Our meal, though delicious, is rife with tension. Daniel’s shoulders are hunched, his forehead creased and his eyebrows drawn as if in deep thought. He finished his meal well before I did. I thought he would have started explaining the need for secrecy, but he hasn’t even engaged me in simple, polite conversation. When I drop the napkin on the plate, whether in frustration or anger I don’t know, Daniel finally looks up and what I see scares me.
Standing up abruptly, almost knocking the chair back, I rigidly clear the table to give him more time to come to terms with whatever is bothering him and give me a chance to calm down. Since this journey began knowing that Daniel was at the end, strong and in control, a rock in this storm, has kept me calm, but seeing him this way makes me question him. He sighs as I leave the table.
The cleanup is quick work and allows me the time I needed. As I stand at the sink wiping it down, Daniel comes behind me- his body flush against my back, his hand snaking around my waist pulling me in tight to him. With his nose at the nape of my neck, he inhales slowly then sighs. This is different. I can’t place my finger on what it is that’s different, but he’s never approached me like this before.
“God, you smell like heather.” He whispers in my ear, seducing me with his voice. “Like home.”
Then he whispers so softly I almost missed it, “Mine.”
He’s called me his before, but never like this. With such raw emotion.
If I wanted to move I don’t think I could, either by the sheer force of his grip or my lack of wanting, neither could make me move. His rich, musky, male scent fills my lungs bringing with it thoughts of what heaven should smell like. My head falls back to rest on his shoulder and simultaneously my eyes drift close. A moment of contentment washes over me, but the feeling is quickly pushed by the ambiguity of our situation. The last couple of weeks of wanting him, missing him, needing him and an array of more unnamed emotions, have stirred an unfathomable anxiety in me, leaving me breathless and wanting.
“Everything you’ve been told has been a lie.” He says quietly.
Surprised by his voice and words, my eyes pop open in rapt attention.
“Hmmm.” I murmur not able to say more, afraid my voice will betray me.
“I don’t know where to begin.”
I shake my head trying to get rid of the Daniel induced haze. He drags his nose up the other side of my neck distracting me.
“Beginning.” I sigh as a shiver runs through me.
“You were born twenty-one years ago on the lands of Balwart.”
He turns me around to face him, our foreheads pressing against each other. I get another good sniff of him. What did he say?
“You were born Freya Daphne Bridget Sinclair. Your father’s name is Michael Edward William Sinclair, King of Farquadt.” He says matter of fact.
“What?” I ask, lifting my head trying to step back, searching his face for understanding.
He grasps my arms roughly pulling me closer, not allowing me to move.
“You are Princess Freya, sole heir to the kingdom of Farquadt.” He says with more feeling.
“What? I don’t understand. My mother… She….”
I shake my head trying in vain to dispel the confusion and step away from him again, but his grip tightens, forcing me to look up at him. This can’t be true. I live in New York. My father is unknown.
No this isn’t true.
“Do you know what this means?” He asks me, but comprehending simple concepts is difficult.
“I have to sit down, please.” I request when he still won’t release me.
“Do you know what this means?” He shakes me gently.
It can’t be. Why is he doing this to me? Daniel’s grip relaxes on my arms when my face pales. I feel a light sheen of sweat across my forehead and between my breasts. He steps away, giving me space to sit down.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
I race towards the bathroom covering my mouth with my hand, but when I see the entryway to the flat, I make a run for it instead. Fresh air, that’s what I need. Daniel catches me by the waist as my hand lands on the knob, stopping any further movement. His body is solid against my back, sandwiching me between the door and him, trapping me. The way he holds me feels right, but everything is wrong, so very wrong. I try to wriggle out of his grasp.
“Daphne, stop. Listen to me.” He pleads.
He breathes heavily in my ear. Both of his hands are on either side of my head on the door. He’s using his body as an anchor, holding me in place.
“You are the Princess of Farquadt.”
“How? My mother was a drug addict. Far from any princess I know of.” I accuse.
“Maybe, I don’t know. She was nobility in her own right. Please come sit down and I will try to explain it, as I know. I only just found out myself.”
He gestures to the couch. Hesitantly, I precede him in a fog to the living room. Daniel wisely chooses the high back chair across from me instead of sitting next to me. I sink on the comfortable couch and fiddle with my hands. Daniel drags the chair closer. His thighs straddle my legs. I can’t look at him. He engulfs my hands with one of his and the other lifts my chin to look at him with the other. At any other moment in time, I would have loved his gentle touches, my skin crawls with it. I shift my head out of his grasp and his hand drops. It doesn’t matter what I’ve felt towards him. He’s destroyed my world in a few short words.
“Let me start by saying that this does not change the way I feel about you.” He states reassuringly.
“Seriously? That’s the last thing on my mind.”
“I’ll start at the beginning. My private investigators came up with nothing on your family until the day you mentioned your birthmark. You see, there is a legend in our country that the royal family is branded at birth.” He laughs mirthlessly. “Well, I guess we now know it’s not a legend. It appears in fact that part of my family’s royal duty is to mark the royal infants at the time of their birth and my father marked you.”
“What?” I wonder out loud.
“After I spoke with my private investigators, I searched the family library. It was there that I found what I needed. I reviewed my father’s personal papers that were locked in a vault. Only the Duke and the Duke’s heir have access to this vault, not even the King has access. I’ve never had a reason to access it before now. For generations, the Dukes of Balwart have been responsible for placing the crown on the King’s head. We are the keepers of the crown not to mention logging all pertinent and sometimes not so pertinent, information relating to the crown. There were hundreds of journals by past Dukes, most were not dated nor signed. I searched day and night thousands of journals with my brother. It took me several days to find what I was looking for.”
He moves to sit next to me.
“When I found it, I had the private investigator look into the women the King was involved with twenty-two years ago. There was a Bridget Delaney MacMichels, a Duchess in her own right in Scotland.”
I gasp.
“She fascinated the King. It was whispered her spirit captured him, ruining him for any other woman. There were talks that they were married secretly, but it was never confirmed nor denied. She was a regular in his bed, despite if the rumors were true or not. It was ruled she could never be queen in the eyes of our laws because of the rumors. But they were married. My parents were present. And still the King never said anything to the nobility about their marriage, fearing for her safety.”
“It has to be someone else. Not my mother.” I adamantly deny. “You said the King was gay.”
He continues as if I didn’t utter a word.
“My father had the documents to prove it. My father noted in his journal that they both felt it was better to keep their marriage a secret. By this point the King was slowly losing control, putting her in constant danger. Every time she was in the castle there were accidents involving her, mostly benign but still unsettling none the less. The opposing faction tried to force the King’s hand. To keep control of the kingdom and to the detriment of his marriage, he denied any involvement with her.”
“What?” I ask, irate that a father, if I believe Daniel, mine, would toss my mother aside.
“He sent her home. She returned to her lands in the highlands of Scotland, protected from our court, but not too far away from him. She was close enough for him to visit secretly, but far enough away to stop the rumors. My father, being a friend to them, helped. Her trips back to Scotland were not without peril. The attempts on her life by this time were more drastic. I’ll spare you what I read. My father noted in his journals that he started to see a shift in her mind. Once she was in the safety of her own lands, he kept in constant contact with her, fearing for her mentally. He was there just as much as he was here. It was a strain on my parent’s marriage initially. My mother questioned my father’s fidelity only once. Whatever he did or said to my mother was enough for her to believe him.”
I look at him questioningly.
“When your mother found out she was pregnant with you, my father was the only one who knew. His visits increased. My mother questioned him again about his fidelity only offered to help.” He continues. “You’re father never knew. My father snuck Bridget back into the country a couple of weeks before your birth. For you to inherit the crown, you had to be born on Farquadt lands, but since no one knew about you, your mother and my father thought it best to keep it that way. It was too risky to bring in someone to assist with the delivery. So, my mother who had some training as a mid-wife assisted with your birth. It was risky but the alternative was too high a price pay.”
“I don’t understand.”
My mind isn’t absorbing the information Daniel is throwing at me. Everything I have ever known has been a lie. The only part that I understand is that my father never knew about me. I feel my eyes start filling with tears. I have a father.
“Where’s Dante? I need him.” I ask, the tears starting to leak.
Dante is the only real thing right now. My body starts to shake uncontrollably and noises are coming from me that I’ve never heard before. Daniel looks at me with worried eyes.
“Sweetheart, Dante can’t be here. It isn’t safe. But-”
“What do you mean it isn’t safe?” Cutting him off, I ask losing what little self-control I have left.
“When the private investigators started looking for your father and my father was no longer alive to squelch any inquires, the opposing factions heard there may be an heir. They are turning over every lead imaginable. Our guys have been working around the clock to cover up what they found, but not fast enough. They have gotten close.”
“The guy when we left the apartment? The guy with a gun?”
Now it is all making sense. The guards, the “Milady’s”, all of it. He squeezes my hands.
“Don’t you see? You’re a threat to them.”
“Please Daniel, I need Dante. Does he know any of this?”
I desperately need something normal. For Dante. For something that has nothing to do with Daniel, the King, my mother, or anything to do with my life in the last two hours.
“He should know by now. If I could get him on the phone, would that be okay for now?” He asks gently.
I nod vigorously as he takes out his phone.
“Neil, how are things?”
Neil?
After a few minutes, Daniels says, “Did you lose them?”
“Good, did you explain things to Dante?” He asks.
He listens intently to what Neil says, but is watching me.
“Okay put him on the phone. The Princess needs to speak with him.”
The princess? My heart picks up its pace when I realize that’s me. What mess have I involved myself in?
“Dante?” Daniel asks. “Hey, sorry about all the confusion and secrets. As you heard-”
Daniel pauses. “Yes, I know. Things are a lot different now.”
He pauses again, nods his head and closes his eyes. “I agree and we can discuss that later.”
He pauses again and turns his back to me.
“I would not change anything I have done so far.”
He starts to walk away. I can hear him starting to raise his voice.
“Dante, right now Daphne needs you. The rest isn’t concerning to me. It isn’t safe to bring her to you or you here.” He pauses. “Yes, I know I should have but there wasn’t time. The Princess is my priority.” He pauses. “No, not just because of that, but as my fiancée.”
“WHAT!!” I yell in my head, stunned.
I start pacing, pulling on my hair. Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Not only am I a princess, which I have not even begun to deal with but I’m engaged? I can’t stay here. I need air. I need out now.