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He might have thought he’d got what he wanted, but the truth was that he wanted so much more.
Lara exhaled a silent sigh as Rowan signaled to the guard in the security hut beside the tall iron gates and started up the long, winding drive toward the palace.
To a naive young woman venturing away from her home for the first time on her own, it had been like a fantasy. Four and a half years later, the sight of those impressive columns and elaborate cornices still took her breath away.
Rowan parked in front of the steps that led to the main entrance, and Lara opened her door and climbed out before he could come around to help her. She wasn’t a guest; she was a servant. And whatever she might think she’d seen in his eyes when he’d been standing so close to her in Luke’s kitchen, she couldn’t let herself forget that.
Maybe he did desire her. And maybe it surprised her to realize he could and did. He’d always seemed so serious and disapproving, more likely to scowl at her than smile—which was probably a good thing, considering how everything inside her went to mush when he smiled. But she wasn’t so innocent as to believe that wanting equaled liking, and she wasn’t going to make the mistake of weaving any fantasies around a man who clearly thought so little of her.
She followed him through the front door, nerves jumping in her belly as she glanced around the spacious foyer. She’d never expected to come back, and now that she had, she was as overwhelmed as she’d been the first time. It was more than the glossy marble floors and the chandeliers that dripped with crystal, more than the heirloom rugs that muffled her footsteps and the sweet scent of fresh flowers that spilled out of enormous urns. It was a sense of homecoming, a feeling of complete happiness that she wasn’t sure she’d ever known before.
He passed her suitcases to Hannah, whose warm smile reassured Lara that the housekeeping supervisor wasn’t annoyed at being summoned from her bed to help get the young nanny settled back in.
“I know you’re probably tired,” Rowan said to Lara when Hannah had gone, “but I’d appreciate a few more minutes of your time.”
“Of course,” she agreed.
“We never did have the tea you made earlier,” he noted, leading her into the parlor. “Would you like me to call for some now?”
“Not for me, thank you.”
He crossed to the camelback settee, as if he was going to sit. Then apparently changed his mind, because he moved back toward her again.
“I don’t like to make mistakes,” he finally said. “But I believe in accepting responsibility for my actions. And the fact is, I owe you an apology.
“Marcus explained the circumstances behind the picture in the paper,” he continued. “About your efforts to help Lexi get over her fear of the water. I wish you’d told me yourself.”
“Would it have made any difference?”
“I like to think so, but…I honestly don’t know. I thought I was doing what was right. I didn’t think you were what the children needed. I was wrong.”
He lifted his eyes to hers, and she felt those familiar and frustrating shivers chase down her spine again. Just a look—and she was ready to melt. But she refused to let him see the effect he had on her.
Instead she stiffened her spine and lifted her chin. “Is this where I’m supposed to apologize for the things I said as well, Your Highness?”
Rowan couldn’t help but smile at the fierce thrust of her chin and the determined glint in her eye. She was like a warrior ready to do battle, and he marveled that he’d never before realized she was as much steel as silk.
“The circumstances being what they were, Miss Brennan, no, I neither expect nor want an apology. I do, however, hope that your opinion of me will change over time.”
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