Page 73 of American Royals
Oh. Beatrice’s mind flew to all the photos people had taken of her and Teddy—hundreds, maybe thousands of them—in magazines, all over the internet. She hated herself a little, for not taking more pictures with Connor while she had the chance.
“What’s going on?” he asked again. “Do you want to talk about it?”
When she didn’t answer, he put a hand on the small of her back, as if to steer her out the door. “Then you really need to leave.”
Beatrice stubbornly shook her head. “You’ve been in my room plenty of times. Why should this be any different?”
“Because my reputation doesn’t matter, and yours does.”
At the rough edge to his voice, the light that burned in those eyes, some tether deep within Beatrice snapped.
Just this morning she and Teddy had agreed to get married. Though it had felt more to Beatrice like a political alliance than anything romantic. She remembered their kiss, so remote and chaste, and shivered.
Other girls got to marry for love. Beatrice might not be free to make that choice, but she still deserved to experience love—real love, in all its heat and passion—at least once before she signed her life away.
If she couldn’t have a future with Connor, then she would have to live fully in what little time she did have.
“I’m not leaving.” Beatrice yanked her sweatshirt over her head and took a step forward. “I came because … I wanted …” She swallowed and tried again. “If you’re going to break your vow, I figured you should break it all the way.”
Connor’s expression faltered, his eyes raking over her pale, drawn features. He took a shuddering breath and set his hands on her shoulders. “I want you more than anything, Bee. Believe me. But this …” He glanced down at her with hesitation. “It doesn’t feel right. You seem too upset to make this kind of decision. Are you sure you’re okay?”
No. My dad is dying, and I’m going to marry Teddy Eaton, when I really just wish that it could be you instead.
Beatrice was trembling. The shaking began in her hands, spreading up her arms and down her legs so that her whole body was suddenly quivering. She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, her breath coming in short gasps. Her spine curled inward, her shoulders hunched—
Just as he’d done in the cabin, Connor gathered her in his arms and carried her, still shaking uncontrollably, to his bed.
Beatrice buried her face in his chest and sobbed. She couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go. Not now, not ever. She clutched tighter at him, her hands digging so fiercely into his back that she was probably leaving scratch marks, as if she could forcibly anchor them both here, in this moment. Connor said nothing, his hand stroking the dark sheet of her hair.
She couldn’t bring herself to share the whole truth with Connor, but maybe she could tell him part.
“My dad has lung cancer,” she whispered into his shirt, now wet with her tears. “He doesn’t have much time left.”
Connor pulled back a few inches and gazed into her red-rimmed eyes. His face was blazing with love. But no matter how adamantly he Guarded her, some threats weren’t physical. Some things he couldn’t protect her from.
“Oh, Bee,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
There were no other words, but Beatrice didn’t need them. She stayed folded in the safety of Connor’s embrace, letting the tears flood through her. She thought she might shatter from how nice it was, to simply be held by someone who loved her.
Out there in the rest of her life, Beatrice had to be unwaveringly strong. But here, for just a little while, she could set down her burden, could lean on Connor’s shoulders and close her eyes.
Even after her sobs subsided, she kept her arms wrapped around him, relishing his quiet strength.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Her face was still pressed against Connor’s chest, so that she felt his answer rumble softly through her. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She leaned back and wiped at her eyes. Her face was streaked with tears. “I came in here to seduce you,” she said, with a strangled laugh, “and then I cried all over you instead.”
“Let’s rain-check the seduction, please,” Connor replied, and then his tone grew more serious. “You know that you can cry all over me anytime. I’ll always be here for you, Bee.”
Beatrice nodded, though she wasn’t quite certain that was true. Not once Connor found out that she and Teddy were engaged.
She looked at him for a long, searing moment, trying to fix his face in her mind, as if she were pressing her father’s Great Seal into a medallion of wax. And then she leaned in to kiss him.
She focused on the feel of his mouth, the roughness of his cheek against hers, committing every last detail to memory—so that someday, when she was trapped in a political marriage, she could look back on this moment, and remember what it felt like to be truly loved.
SAMANTHA
