At 3:42, I leave my chamber and march to my study, to the closet, through the adjoining door, which opens to a small room that houses the vault. Scanning my thumbprint, the latches open with a heavyCLANK, and I pull the door open. It’s a smaller collection of jewelry than my older brother, Philipp has, and much smaller by far than my parents have, but it has the basic essentials a duchess would need. Now that I actuallyhavea duchess, I actually have a reason to go in here.
For as long as I can remember—prior to eleven years ago that is—I’d seen all of these items that became mine when I came of age asIsla’s.I had dreamed of all the beautiful things I would give to her, and all the events we would attend together where she would wear them.
So now, I just hate all of it.
For this event, she’ll need a diminutive set of pearls, and an equally diminutive, but elegant, matching tiara. The piece is more like a thick headband that consists of fat, teardrop shaped pearls with tiny accent diamonds between them, all set in platinum. I stack both leather boxes in my hand before leaving the vault and latching it behind me.
At 3:51, I’m descending the wide center staircase that connects to the main hall…
And just as I suspected…
She’s not fucking here.
I set the boxes on a large, round table next to an extravagant floral arrangement and march back up the stairs and toward the west wing.
Her door is still wide open, and I grip the frame to swing inside, sucking in a breath in preparation to bark at her, but find the room empty.
It is now 3:57, and I have no idea where she is, and my blood is starting to simmer.
At 4:05, I’ve been through the dining area, the kitchen, and the servants’ quarters, barking at Mrs. Maisley to send her staff to search every nook and cranny of the entire estate.
At 4:12, I’m traversing the stone walkway on the back of the palace that wraps around and leads to the front drive, because now I’m sure she’s left on foot and is potentially hitchhiking through Corwick to get to the airport.
Just before I hook the corner, I spot her on the lush, green lawn beyond one of the courtyards with a blanket spread out on the grass.
She’sreading. And she’s wearingjeansand asweater.
“Duchess!”I holler at her as I pound the stone pavement toward the steps that lead to the courtyard.
Isla cuts her eyes up at me with a bewildered look. “Yes?”
I leap off the second to the last step and continue to march toward her. “I told you to be ready and waiting at 3:55.”
She tilts her head. “I beg your pardon. You told me no such thing.”
I reach the blanket and grab her arm, dragging her to her feet. “I see you’re playing stupid in addition to being obstinate. How very original.”
She stumbles as she struggles to keep pace with me while I march back up the steps. “Don’t fucking drag me, Malachi, and you didn’t tell meshit!I haven’t even seen you sinceyesterday!”
I halt and whip around, jerking her close. “You will not speak to me that way, andI just spoke to you two hours ago!”
“You did not, you fucking psychopath!”
Rage surges through me, and it happens in a nanosecond.
My arm drawing back and propelling my open palm toward her face. There’s a stinging connection of flesh to flesh. Both her head and her hair fly sideways before she staggers and stumbles to land in crumpled pile of limbs on the stone pavement.
She is still.
Her hair is a black curtain hiding something I cannot undo or take back.
My palm is throbbing like I slapped a smooth slab of marble with all my strength.
But I didn’t slap marble.
I struck the face of a woman I’d loved my entire life.
Someone I had vowed since childhood to protect from anything in the world that might hurt her.
