Page 44 of Forbidden Bastard
She picked up her coffee cup, but her hands trembled so she quickly set it back down. “I didn’t think she was, but I’m not...”
His body was still as he said stiffly, “Clara will be here.”
Of course. She’d said this all wrong. Seriously? She just didn’t have the words to explain how bad a decision-maker she'd been all her life. Hopefully with some time, her mind would work on all thrusters and she’d overcome the nerves that sent her into a panic. “Good, you’ll have family support.”
He sipped his coffee and seemed totally at ease when he said, “Yes. She’ll be here by lunch.”
So no matter what, he had support and there was no pressing reason to marry immediately when he had a few weeks left before he turned thirty-one. He had time till he lost it all, and she wouldn't be the cause of that. She ate another beignet and her shoulders lightened. “You really planned the whole thing?”
He poured the last bit of coffee from the carafe into her cup. “There are still quite a few things to handle, but I’ve planned events for clients for years. Trust me.”
Events. She’d helped with a few small parties, but nothing quite qualified as an event. She accepted the coffee he offered. “I don’t know that part of you.”
He shrugged and sat more comfortably in his chair as he said, “I didn’t just attend art fairs to find my first goods to import and export. I built more trust with artists when I hosted events.”
“I had no idea.” But maybe she should have. All she knew about Charles was that he was a great guy, ran a good business, had recently been titled, inherited money, and the computer said he was her match.
But details like what he did… now, those gaps should be filled.
The caffeine was kicking in. She straightened as he said, “We have the rest of our lives to figure each other out.”
Perhaps she was being foolish and the voice in her head was right that she loved him. Charles was a dream she'd never expected. She gulped the last sip and put her empty cup down as she told herself not to make a hasty choice. “I’ll pick out a dress. Having my parents here will be nice. But I want to enjoy them too, so tomorrow for the wedding?”
He nodded. “I can reschedule everything. The staff will be relieved, I don't doubt. I’ll ensure the driver picks your parents up, then I'll show your father around the guest house and the lands while we wait for you to return with your mother for a late lunch.”
Good. Since he'd done this without discussing it with her, he could handle rescheduling what he’d started as she'd slept. That was only fair. She stood, overwhelmed by the idea of returning to the palace for two-thousand gown options. “Charles, just don’t rush into a decision because you’re upset by what your birth mother said. As far as I’m concerned, she did you a favor.”
“How?” He followed her inside.
She headed into the closet and saw lines of dresses in her size.
How did she have such a selection? She chose a simple light-green cotton dress. “Could you imagine if she’d raised you? You had a few moments of what Cassidy and Chelsea must have lived through.”
He picked out a pair of jeans and a black, form-fitting t-shirt and she froze. Those abs of his always captured her attention. “Doubtful. She wanted them.”
She tossed the dress on the bed and headed toward the bathroom to clean up as she asked, “Or did she raise them only because she wanted their father, a lord?”
He followed her inside as he rolled his black shirt down over his muscles. “Then she made a bad choice. From what I know about Lord Pascal, her husband, is horrible at budgeting. My import and export business is valued at over ten billion now that I’m a royal but I was doing well for a self-startup.”
Even without the house and title he was worth a fortune. Most women she knew would do anything to be his bride. She picked up a hair brush and stroked through the long, red tangles--she couldn't go to the castle looking like she just woke up. Her belly twisted. Finally she couldn’t ignore it anymore, finished with the brush, and said, “So you can take care of Clara, regardless of a marriage.”
He winked. “She doesn’t let me. She thinks I should run my business without considering her retirement--it took a year for her to agree to that apartment in Paris. But in her heart of hearts, she wants to show her face in Avce, in style, and not just as a villager from Modena’s lands.”
The idea of Clara as some villager of old was almost comical though she’d been dressed as a Victorian lady the day they'd met, so the woman had obviously worn many hats in her day. She shook the picture out of her mind, but for once this morning she smiled. “Where’s Modena?”
Charles said, “Some other duke’s property in Avce--he took off and apparently only has a few weeks left before he loses his title.”
Wow. All the pieces of why Charles had come to Avce started to make more of a connection. The house. The title. He'd done everything for Clara.
He knew how to love. That was so obvious. If onlyshewas sure. She turned the shower on, wanting to be clean before putting on that lovely dress. “How do you know that?”
He stepped into his jeans and buttoned them, then adjusted the shirt he wore. “It’s what the Earl of Skye discussed yesterday, as my half-sisters are apparently concerned about the fellow.”
He went to the bedroom and she hopped in, did a fast wash, and out. Once she toweled off, she saw Charles was still getting his shoes, and he'd left her a pair of matching green flats. Her legs were thankful, and she quickly dressed. As she finished, she kissed his cheek and said, “Okay. Charles, tomorrow it is and I’ll get the dress today. See you soon.”
Without another word she went downstairs, to the waiting car, and the palace. Maybe she feared they were rushing for the wrong reason but that was no reason for her to be stupid and leave. Charles had said he loved her. She didn’t need to do anything other than open her own heart. This was supposed to be the easy part where she said yes to a life she never imagined.
Chapter 14
