Page 67 of Royal Darling
She lifts one shoulder. “I guess I was too busy with my duties as queen and with all of you. Seven children running around the palace took a lot of my focus and energy. It seemed taking time for myself was selfish when I was needed for more important things.” Only now she’s not queen and all of us kids are full grown.
“You should play again,” I say. “Did you have lessons?”
“When I was a child,” she says, waving that away. “I’m so rusty I’m sure it would be like starting all over again.”
“We should both learn,” I say. “We’ll move the piano to this cozier spot and find a teacher.”
“And then you could put on a concert for us!” Anna exclaims.
“Oh, no,” Mother and I say at the same time. I suppose we’re both shy about our skills. We exchange a smile.
The door opens to our butler, Nolan. “Excuse me, Your Majesties, for the interruption. Mr. Jackson Walker is here, asking to see Emma.” He turns to me. “Should I let him in, Your Highness?”
Heart in my throat, I can’t manage a word, so I just nod. The minute he leaves, I turn to Anna. “How do I look?”
She kisses her fingertips. “Perfection.”
I smooth my hair back behind my ears. “Really?” I’m wearing no makeup, dressed casually in a thick cream wool sweater with black leggings. The outfit was a Christmas gift from Anna, who’s been encouraging me to dress casually at home for maximum comfort. It has been a decadent experience.
Anna grins. “I’d do you.”
Gabriel barks out a laugh. My mother frowns. Anna’s outrageousness can never be tamed. I think that’s what my brother loves about her. I’m still getting used to it.
I stand and smooth my sweater down and then sit again. I set my hands on my lap and then fold them together, but that seems too posed and proper. I lift my hands. “I don’t know what to do with my hands.”
“Awww,” Anna says, slinging an arm around my shoulders and giving me a squeeze. “You’re so cute.” She lets me go and gazes directly into my eyes. “Relax. Play it cool. Listen to what he has to say and go from there.”
“Should we go?” Gabriel asks.
My mother huffs. “Why should we disrupt our evening for an uninvited visitor?”
Oh, God. I can see it now. My mother as witness to an emotional painful talk with Jackson. The bastard left without a goodbye. Only that stupid note. I should burn that note. Maybe I should go to the front hall. This could be extremely awkward in front of my family. Also, why is he here? What does it mean?
I stand and head for the door to the salon just as it opens to the man who stole my heart. His familiar features haunt my dreams, and now he’s here in vivid reality. I take in his dirty-blond hair, cropped close on the sides, his tired-looking blue eyes, his strained expression, his scruffy beard, his leather jacket. He’s carrying his guitar case.
“Emma.” His gravelly voice scrapes against all my raw nerves.
I lift my chin. “What are you doing here?”
“I wrote you a song.”
“Youleftme.” I hate that my voice shakes.
He frowns. “That was a mistake. I regret…can I just play for you? It’s all in the song, everything I want to say.”
“Let’s hear it!” Anna shouts from across the room. The TV is silenced.
Jackson meets my eyes in question.
I tell myself to stay strong. “If you like.”
He pulls out his guitar, attaches a strap, and slips it over his shoulder, strumming a few notes. He’s standing in front of me, heart in his eyes, and I can already feel myself melting. I’m too easy. He hurt me deeply.
And then he begins to sing in his deep gravelly voice, a ballad he wrote just for me.
“I ran from you and I was a fool
How can I run from my very soul?
