Page 103 of American Royals II: Majesty
“You didn’t wear your Guards’ uniform,” she observed softly.
“I wasn’t sure I was allowed to wear it, now that I’ve left.”
Beatrice heard the lie in his voice. Connor knew perfectly well that he could wear the dress uniform at state occasions for the rest of his life.
Her eyes traveled again to his tuxedo. It fit perfectly—he’d clearly had it tailored—but the fabric was stiff in the way that new clothes always are, when they haven’t yet molded to your body. Beatrice wondered with a pang if Connor had bought the tux specifically for this wedding—if he’d decided against wearing his Guards’ uniform because he didn’t want to look like a member of security, but instead like a young aristocrat.
Like all the young men her parents had included in her folder of options, the night they’d asked her to consider getting married, what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Connor—where have you been? I mean, what did you do, after…”
“I went to Houston. I’m chief of security for the Ramirez family.”
“Chief of security for the Duke and Duchess of Texas? That’s impressive.”
“They know I used to personally Guard the queen.”
Beatrice looked away, at the folding makeup table with its brushes and lipsticks laid out on a white hand towel. “I’m glad you’re doing so well. Congratulations.”
“Damn it, Bee, don’t use your cocktail-party voice with me.”
Beatrice’s mind knew that he was no longer hers, but her body seemed to have reverted to an instinctive muscle memory and couldn’t keep up. She fought back an urge to step forward and hold him, the way she used to.
Instead she hugged her arms around her torso. Her dress felt so heavy: all that stiff boning, all the layers upon layers of weighty embroidered silk.
Connor was next to her in a few steps. “Bee, listen—”
She looked up sharply, her vision blurring. “I can’t do this right now—”
“But right now is the only time we’vegot!” His gray eyes burned into hers. “When I came here today, all I wanted was to see you one last time, to make sure you’re happy. I never meant to say any of this. But here we are, and I’ll probably never get another chance to be alone with you. Maybe I’m selfish, but I can’tnottell you that I love you. Which you already know.”
Connor leaned closer. There was an instant when Beatrice knew what was coming yet felt powerless to pull away, as if her mind hadn’t yet regained control of her bewildered limbs.
He settled a hand on her shoulder, the other tipping her chin to turn her face up to his. Finally Beatrice seemed to snap back into herself. She opened her mouth in protest—and Connor, seeing her parted lips, leaned in to kissher.
She didn’t resist. It felt so powerfully familiar, because she hadbeenhere before, so many times: folded in Connor’s arms, surrounded by his tensed strength. The sheer Connor-ness of him overwhelmed her senses.
It was as if that kiss had slipped her back in time, to before she lost her dad—back when she wasn’t a queen, but simply a girl in love with the wrong boy.
Then reality crashed back in and she pulled away, her breathing unsteady.
A single tear slid down her cheek. Seeing it, Connor lifted a hand. His fingers were callused, yet he brushed away her tear with painstaking gentleness.
“Run away with me, Beatrice. Let me help you get out,” he said fervently. “Let me save you from all of this.”
It was precisely what Beatrice had threatened to do the night before her father died: to run off with Connor, abandoning all her responsibilities. And yet…
Let me save you.Connor didn’t understand that Beatrice no longer needed rescuing. She hadn’t been forced; she wasn’t trapped. If she’d wanted to escape being queen, the only person who could have saved her was herself.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“So that’s it? You’re going to get married, just because you think it’s part of yourjobdescription?”
Her heart broke at how fundamentally he’d misunderstood, and she bit her lip, searching for the words to explain.
Back when Connor had been her Guard, she’dacceptedthat she would someday be queen. Now shechoseit. Some people might not understand the distinction, but Beatrice knew it made all the difference in the world.
A destiny was something that happenedtoyou, that fell upon you like rain no matter how desperately you tried to hide from it. But if you walked toward it with your head held high, then it wasn’t your fate—it was simply your future.
