Page 27 of Awakened On Her Royal Wedding Night
He dropped his arm from around her, prickling on the inside. Not angry, but disturbed. He covered it by picking up her hand, offering another orchestrated wave that invited another cheer.
He felt Claudine studying him. “May I ask... What your mother said to your father this morning... Is he—”
“Yes,” he confirmed, not allowing his expression to change. It was a fact that his father was terminally ill, not something that caused him to feel anything, one way or another, and that, too, was probably pitiful.
He found himself squeezing her hand. Gently, but doing it all the same. Why? Was he trying to warn her against expressing more sympathy? Or was it driven by something closer to that hollow sensation that seemed to condense around him when he let himself think of his father’s impending death?
“That’s need-to-know. Please don’t discuss it with anyone,” he told her, brushing away those pointless emotions.
“I won’t,” she promised.
Below, the insistent blare of a horn drew their attention. A red cabriolet demanded access as Francois drove it down the narrow path between the cordoned-off crowd. His arrival raised yet another cacophony of reaction.
When he had cut through the gates and parked below them, he stepped out of his car to send a filthy look upward.
“Do I have to see him?” Claudine’s hand tightened on his, her nails digging into his skin hard enough to threaten drawing blood.
“I’ll have Vinicio escort you to my room, but I need to speak with him.”
“What will you say?” she asked warily.
“That if he ever comes near you again, I will kill him.”
“Felipe—” She looked shocked as she searched his eyes. “Are you really that violent?”
He could be. He was starting to realize he was exactly that primal and possessive where she was concerned.
“I speak the only language he understands,” he said, drawing her inside and directing Vinicio to take her in one direction while he went the other.
Francois must have taken the grand staircase two at a time, trying to catch them on the balcony. He strode down the main gallery in a rush of rage toward Felipe, looking past him, but Claudine was already gone.
“I tried to call you,” Queen Paloma said plaintively, coming inside from the balcony.
Francois ignored her.
“In what universe do you think I will let this happen?” The heat of Francois’s breath accosted Felipe’s nose.
Felipe kept his feet rooted to the floor, giving up not so much as a millimeter as his brother’s fury burned like a conflagration in front of his face.
“What bothers you more?” Felipe asked lazily. “That I’ve found a bride so quickly? Or that she would rather die than spend another minute with you?”
“Is that what she told you?” Francois backed off a hair, trying to convey his contempt for the both of them.
“She told me exactly what happened,” Felipe said with icy loathing. “I’ll be sure you’re sent a copy of her statement before she releases it.”
Francois’s eye ticked. His brother was nothing if not versatile, though. He quickly switched tacks.
“She’s not revolted by you?” Francois asked with a scathing glance at Felipe’s scar. It was meant to remind him that his brother had bested him once.
Once.
Felipe had come to appreciate the scar, despite nearly losing his eye. He had also lost his brother that day, realizing once and for all that Francois would never see him as anything but a rival. By then, Felipe had hated his own reflection, seeing only his brother when he looked in a mirror. He had felt haunted by Francois. Watched.
The scar was a gift. It made it clear that the man he faced in the mirror was himself, not Francois. He had no regrets that he wore it.
“You may come to the wedding if Mamma insists. Otherwise, you will stay away from her. Donottest me on this. I promise you the consequences will be deadly.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
