Page 46

God, she hated it when he took that darn King tone with her.
She sat, still not looking at Gordon. He’d been suspiciously quiet. Maybe he was in shock. She certainly was. “This isn’t right.”
“Then you should have thought of the possible consequences before you did what you did,” her father said. “Enough whining and babbling. Mr. Waybrook—are you willing to marry her, or not?”
Her heart lurched. She didn’t want to hear him laugh and turn her down. Because some weird, crazy part of her would be hurt. Which was stupid. Obviously, he didn’t want to marry her. They barely knew each other. All they’d wanted was some fun. Not this.
Never this.
“Don’t answer that,” she hissed, her shoulders so tense it almost hurt.
Gordon cleared his throat. “Well, uh, I—”
“Don’t say another word.” She glowered at Gordon. What the hell was he doing? He should have walked out of here as soon as the word “marriage” got thrown out there. Helplessness had never sat well with her, and right now, she felt more than helpless. She felt as if they were taking advantage of a good man, and he was just going to let them. “Let me talk to Prince George. I bet I can get him to change his mind. He liked me.”
Gordon stiffened beside her. “No.”
“What?” She blinked at him. He watched her with narrow eyes and flared nostrils. He looked like he was about to explode. Literally. Her heart sped up. “Why not? You can’t possibly…”
He flexed his jaw. “Are you res
isting so much because you want to marry a real prince? Are you ashamed of falling for a lowly American?”
“No. God, no.” Shaking her head, she reached out and grabbed his hands. “I would never think that way, and especially not about you. But I refuse to trap you into this marriage. That’s not what you signed on for when you kissed me that first time.”
His lips twitched. “Not exactly, no.”
“One night. Remember?”
“I remember.”
She squeezed his hands. “You don’t have to deal with this mess. Only I do. You can walk out that door right now, and no one would blame you. Just do it. Walk away.”
He pressed his mouth into a tight line. “Sorry, but I can’t do that. That’s not the kind of guy I am, and you should know that about me.” He turned back to their audience. “I have questions.”
“No,” she said, her heart twisting. “Gordon, don’t.”
He ignored her, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
“All right.” The ambassador cracked his knuckles. “Ask away.”
“I’m not saying I agree to any of this, but if I did… Can she even marry an American?” he asked, gesturing toward Isabelle. “I thought royalty had to marry royalty.”
“In some countries, that’s true, yes.”
Gordon cocked a brow. “But not in yours?”
“No. She can marry anyone she wants. We simply wanted it to be a prince with money and military to back him up. However…” her mother said, drifting off.
She latched onto that last piece of information. “I can still marry a prince. There has to be a prince out there that doesn’t care if I was caught in someone’s car, even if I can’t change George’s mind.” She dropped Gordon’s hand and stood so she could pace back and forth. “There’s a way to fix this that doesn’t involve me marrying Gordon. I can—”
Her father made an annoyed sound. “Sit—”
“Down,” Gordon finished, his voice hard. Without waiting for her to obey, he turned back to the screen. “Would we have to live there, if I agreed?”
“Yes. She’s a princess,” her mother said. “She needs to learn how to rule the country. You would need to know how, too.”
“Would I be a…king?” He rubbed his temples. “Or a prince?”