it was quite impressive.”
“And so is the fact that you’re going to govern Asterland someday.”
“You’re mistaken. Prince Eric is heir to the throne.”
Dakota chose not to comment further. The Grand Minister was playing the loyal Cabinet member, feigning disinterest in the crown.
Payune placed his hands on the desk, then linked them together. “As I said, the proposal for your resort was impressive, but I am puzzled by one thing.”
Dakota sipped his drink even though he had never acquired a taste for brandy. “And what would that be?”
“Why, your wife, of course. Is she aware of your venture?”
Dakota’s heart took a quick, forward leap. “She’s not only aware of it, she supports it without reserve.”
“But she is also a high-ranking Foreign Affairs consular.”
Dakota kept his gaze focused on his opponent. “That’s right, she is,” he said, his tone implying Kathy used a government job to her best advantage. If Payune assumed Kathy’s friendship with the royal family had been manipulated to influence the king to approve the resort, then all the better. But before the other man concentrated too deeply on Kathy, Dakota continued, “I was hoping, sir, that you would help me get this project off the ground. If anyone can make this happen, you can.”
Payune sat with his head tilted at a regal angle. “I appreciate your confidence, but I do not see how I can.”
“Maybe you could take some time to think it over.” Dakota paused a beat, then leaned forward and dropped a hint about the impending revolution, making damn sure the other man wouldn’t forget this meeting. “My partners and I are willing to make it worth your while.” A cash settlement he hoped Payune would be in dire need of within a matter of days. “And with your involvement, I’m sure King Bertram would no longer stand in our way.”
Kathy walked with Queen Nicole along a stone path. Both women adored flowers, and strolling the castle gardens after a tea had become one of their favorite moments to share. Azaleas, poppies, tulips, irises—Kathy couldn’t begin to name them all. There were also bridges to cross, statues to admire, bodies of water rippling with sunlight.
“This is like stepping into a painting,” Kathy said.
The queen smiled as they passed a lily pond, then stopped to breathe the country air. “And today we are in a Monet.”
Kathy turned to look at her friend. She thought Queen Nicole was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. With jet black hair and violet-blue eyes, she could have been a model. Even at fifty-three, she had a face and figure cameras loved. But for Kathy there was no envy, only admiration.
“You have been quiet on this visit,” the queen said. “Are you not well?”
“I’m fine. It’s just been so long since I’ve shared a home with my husband.” At least, she thought, that was a portion of the truth. She couldn’t lead the queen to believe that her personal life was in perfect order, that her supposed reconciliation with Dakota had no flaws. The queen had come to know her too well for such a charade.
“You have not told him yet, have you?”
“About the miscarriage? No. And I’m not sure I can.”
The other woman guided her toward a bench overlooking a sweep of irises. “If you want to have a life with him again, then you must.”
But I’m only pretending I want a life with him, Kathy thought. So what good would it do to tell him about the baby? They couldn’t alter the past. Dakota hadn’t been there when she’d needed him. There was nothing either one of them could do that would change that.
“You could forgive him,” the queen said as though reading her mind. “There is healing in forgiveness.”
Kathy watched a butterfly light upon a flower. “I know.” But how could she forgive him when she knew his work would always be more important than their marriage? “We’re still attracted to each other.” A dangerous attraction, she thought. “I can’t think clearly when I’m around him.”
No, she couldn’t think, but she could feel. And fantasize.
She could still see herself waiting for him on the cliffs. Waiting for him to pull her to the ground, tear her nightgown and cover her body with his. And for one haunting moment last night, she knew he had wanted the same thing—desperate, forbidden lovemaking—a union they would have regretted later.
Queen Nicole sighed. “I have no right to give advice.”
Jarred from her wayward thoughts, Kathy turned, then studied her friend’s sad expression. “Forgive me for asking, but are the rumors true? Is your marriage troubled?”
“Yes, very troubled. Losing Ivan has put a strain on our relationship. The king refuses to mourn his son. He cannot cope with what Ivan did.”
Kathy hadn’t been prepared to discuss Prince Ivan, but she could see that the other woman needed to confide in someone—someone she trusted. “Most men don’t grieve the way women do. They tend to keep their feelings inside.”
Queen Nicole’s voice quavered. “But the king is still too hurt and too angry to grieve. And until he forgives Ivan, our lives will never be the same.” She lifted her face to the sun as though the warmth would help. “I, too, was destroyed by what Ivan had done. But he left us a note. He begged for our forgiveness.”
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