If The Ring Fits...

Her name rolled from his lips with the slight hint of a French accent. She loved the way he said her name. No, she hated it. “I toss and turn. And I snore.”

“Did Francis tell you that?”

Damn. Caught in her own trap. She never could tell even the smallest of white lies. Her cheeks warmed. Only a soft knock on the door saved her from further embarrassment.

“Who is it?” Prince Richard asked, sounding impatient.

“Your mother,” a female voice answered.

His mother? That could only mean one thing—trouble. Christina exchanged a panicked look with Prince Richard.

“Just a minute,” he said to his mother, then turned to Christina. “Hide.”

“Where?”

He glanced at the bathroom and another door. “If my mother finds you here…”

The beautiful Princess Marguerite probably wouldn’t understand why Christina was in the prince’s room at this late hour and wearing his pajama top.

He opened the doors to his armoire and pointed. Looking inside the wardrobe, Christina hesitated. “In there?”

“Richard?” Princess Marguerite called out. “I must speak with you immediately.”

He tensed. Without a second thought, Christina climbed in, moving aside the tails of shirts hanging side by side. Prince Richard rolled her gown and tossed it to her. He closed the armoire, leaving her in darkness.

The cramped armoire smelled like cedar. She clutched her gown to her chest. A tight fit, but it worked. For the time being. “Don’t forget my shoes, Your Highness.”

“Richard? Open this door,” his mother said.

He messed his hair, rumpled the sheets and kicked Christina’s pumps under the bed before unlocking the door. “Good evening, Mother.”

Marguerite pushed her way into the room. Her black gown swished against the Savonnerie carpet. “I hope I did not interrupt anything.”

“No, I was in bed.”

“Alone?” She peered around him to stare at his bed.

Her question did not deserve an answer. She always seemed disappointed when she failed to find a woman spending the night. It meant waiting that much longer for grandchildren. “I thought you would be asleep by now, Mother.”

“How could I sleep after what happened tonight? I want to know what’s going on, Richard.” Crossing the room, she glanced in the bathroom. “And do not tell me you evacuated the palace because of your uncle’s heart attack. I know he was pretending.”

“He was not pretending.” Richard saw the contrast of green against the black of the bed skirt. One of Christina’s pumps stuck out from under his bed. Damn. “He simply mistook a bout of indigestion for the real thing.”

“He ruined your party.”

While his mother peered inside his walk-in closet, Richard nudged the shoe farther under his bed. “He thought he was having a heart attack, Mother. Surely his health is more important than a party?”

“But the ring.” She shut the closet door. “There were so many lovely young women present at the ball. I was hoping you would find her tonight.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you.”

“It’s not your fault the ring didn’t fit any of the women or the party was cut short.”

“Fate seems to have conspired against me.”

It most definitely had. A piece of green fabric—Christina’s gown?—stuck out of the bottom of his armoire. His mother had not seen it. Yet.

“I simply wanted you to experience the same love and happiness the Legend of the Ring brought your father and me.”

“Happiness, Mother?” Richard could not believe he was hearing this. He hurried to the armoire. Leaning against it, he struck a casual pose and hid the fabric with his heel. “For the past ten years, you have done nothing but wear black and mourn him.”

“I miss him, Richard, but do not forget we had twenty-one years of joy before his death. I will always have the memories, and I have the ring to thank for that.”

A ring could not bring happiness, true love, no matter how much his mother wanted to believe it. Just listening to her…She spoke as if she had died, too. She sounded so sad. The way she had sounded since his father’s death. Richard blamed her sorrow on the Legend of the Ring. “Why not experience that joy again, Mother? You can fall in love and remarry.”

As his mother moved closer to him and the armoire, her smile disappeared. “The love your father and I shared…I cannot replace that with another. I would not even want to try. But I do want you to marry and provide me with the grandchildren I so long to have.”

He knew how much his mother wanted him to marry, to produce an heir—grandchildren. Talking about the legend and his birthday ball had brought the light back to her eyes. Now it was gone.

Completely.

What kind of son was he, putting his wants ahead of his mother’s? He did not want to know the answer.

“Where is the ring?”

Torn between his own happiness and hers, Richard hesitated. All he had to do was show her the ring on Christina’s finger. His mother would be thrilled, and he would be…

He could not. If he caved in and married because of the legend, he would live to regret it. He had to break the de Thierry tie to the Legend of the Ring. Not only for himself, but for future generations.

The pursuit of a wife had taught him “one true love” and “happily ever after” existed only in fairy tales and fantasies. Not even an enchanted ring could change that.

“Do you have the ring, Richard?”

“No, Didier has it.” The lie came so easily.

“Well, at the very least, I can wear it again.”

“No.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You do not want me to wear it?”

Richard had been too harsh. He hated disappointing his mother; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. She was the one woman who loved him for who he was—simply her son. His title did not matter, nor did his faults. “So many women tried on the ring tonight, I want to have it cleaned first.”

The tenderness in her eyes made Richard swallow the guilt lodged in his throat. She caressed his cheek. “You are always one step ahead of me, my son. Just like your father.”

The comparison to his father made Richard feel like a cad. His father had been a respectable and honorable man. Richard was neither. A battle of duties raged inside him. Duty to his country or duty to himself. Had his father ever felt so torn? “I try my best.”

“You do better than try.” She kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday, Richard.”