Did he really dare tell her? He hadn’t told anyone else during his entire trip. And neither had Declan.
But what harm could come of revealing his identity now? While they were alone. When he was getting ready to leave.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Philip.” Her voice wobbled. “Please, just let me go.” She reached up and swiped at her cheek, brushing away a tear.
“It’s not really an excuse.” He wanted to lighten the moment, wished he could make her smile. But maybe she’d forgive him more quickly if she knew the truth. He took a deep breath and then let the words rush out. “I’m a prince.”
She stilled, but she didn’t turn.
Just in case his first statement hadn’t been clear enough, he said it again. “I’m Prince Carl Philip Glucksberg, second son of Gustaf Albert Glucksberg, the sovereign of the nation of Lapland.” Actually the former sovereign.
This time she did spin, and her eyes were wide.
He loosened his hold on her arm but couldn’t make himself let go of her. What was she feeling at his revelation? Curiosity? Awe? Respect?
He’d grown up with those kinds of reactions whenever he was in a new country where people didn’t recognize him. Whenever he or one of his friends spoke up about his royalty, the nature of every relationship changed. People always treated him differently because of his royal status, and he’d never liked that.
Hopefully his relationship with Felicity wouldn’t change. He didn’t want to lose the easy way they interacted together.
“You’re a prince?” She seemed to find her tongue and gave him a once-over as if that would solve this new riddle. When she tugged free of his hold and stepped back, he didn’t go after her.
“Yes, I give you my word.”
“Your word?” Her eyes narrowed. “If you really are a prince, then you’ve been lying to me about who you are all this time. So what value is your word?”
“My word is still solid—”
“How can I trust anything you say now?”
This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting—certainly wasn’t one he’d ever gotten before. Then again, nothing about Felicity was like anything he’d ever known.
“You lied to me.” She crossed her arms as if daring him to defy her.
“I didn’t set out to deceive you. I simply withheld that piece of information.”
“That’s lying by omission, and it’s still lying.”
“But it wasn’t intentional.”
“So you were planning to leave without telling me the truth.”
“I haven’t told anyone during my travels. Only Declan knows. And I need it to stay that way.”
Her eyelashes were still damp from when he’d made her cry a few minutes ago. But her eyes had begun to flash . . . with anger. “I’m not just anyone, Philip.”
“I realize that.”
“You should have trusted me.”
“I do trust you.”
“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?”
He shrugged. “My situation is complicated and dangerous. My brother, who is now king of Lapland, wants me dead, has hired an assassin, and I don’t want to put you in harm’s way by association with me.”
“Don’t you think I can handle complicated and dangerous?”
What could he say to that? She was a strong woman and wasn’t afraid of many things. She was capable of handling much responsibility—had proven it by taking on the management of the boardinghouse by herself as well as caring for the Kellers and now a new boarder. So what had prevented him from saying something about his identity sooner? She deserved the truth from him.
But as much as he wanted to give her a truthful answer, he couldn’t pinpoint why he’d held back. “I don’t know, Felicity. I guess I always planned on leaving, didn’t think we’d ever see each other again once I was gone.”
“The attraction between us? It means nothing to you?” Her voice dipped low and was again tinged with hurt.
“It does mean something—”
“Just not enough to have an honest conversation about whether there’s any chance of us being together.”
“That’s not fair.” Frustration began to nag him.
She watched him for a moment, clearly waiting for him to have that honest conversation now.
He sighed. “The truth is that I don’t know if I’ll live until tomorrow or next week. And so I haven’t been able to plan my future.”
“If the future is so uncertain, then shouldn’t we make the most of every day that we have left?” Her tone took on a pleading note. “Why waste another moment?”
Was she right? “It’s not as easy as that for me. With the unrest in my country, it’s possible I may someday assume the role of king.”
The afternoon sunshine slanted through the barn door, and it cascaded over her, highlighting the striking color of her hair, turning it a burnished copper. It contrasted her pale skin and enriched the brown of her eyes. She was exquisite, like the rarest of precious jewels.
The light also made the turmoil in her eyes all too clear. “So you’re not necessarily rejecting me because of the danger. You’re doing so because you’re not sure if I’ll fit in with your life if you become king.”
“The law requires a prince to marry whomever parliament chooses.”
Her shoulders deflated, and a coolness began to creep into her expression.
Had he just agreed that he was rejecting her? Because he wasn’t. “Wait, that didn’t come out right—”
“It came out loud and clear enough for me.” Her tone was clipped. “All along, I knew you planned on leaving. I was the fool to ever believe you’d change your mind, that maybe I was more than a diversion.”
“And you were—”
“I should have known I was nothing more than a poor girl with a poor background who could never be good enough for you.”
She spun on her heels, and before he could say anything else or block her path, she stalked out of the barn.
He started after her, a strange desperation settling inside. But at the sound of a wagon slogging to a stop in the yard, he guessed his ride had arrived—the wagon from the livery that he’d arranged to come pick him up and drive him to town so that he wouldn’t have to impose on Felicity any longer.
He couldn’t follow her outside and finish the conversation in public. Instead, he had half a mind to chase after her and drag her back into the barn and tell her to forget everything he’d said, to forget any worries about the future, that all he wanted was the present moment with her.
If he were truly free to choose what he wanted for the future, to chart his own course, he suspected his decision would be easy. He would stop trying to make himself leave Felicity and would give in to the need to stay with her forever.
But the fact was, he wasn’t free to decide his own future or pick his own wife. If he suggested Felicity, what advantage would she have that he could leverage? He’d have to find a way to present her to parliament so that they would find favor with her.
And if they told him no?
He shuddered to think of how disappointed he would be. And if she felt rejected and hurt now, the rejection and hurt then would only be worse. He couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t put her through such pain.