When Natasha stood up and turned, Stewart was dressed and sitting on the edge of her bed. He never moved, but stared at the ring resting in his palm. She sat by his side and handed him a flimsy package.
“Please forgive me,” she whispered, pain robbing her of breath. “I have deceived you. You must believe the pain in my heart is overwhelming.”
He placed the ring back into the box, set it aside, and took the package from her. With the material wrapping removed he glanced at the portrait and then back at her.
“I don’t understand. It is a portrait of the royal family.”
She nodded, hoping he would focus his attention on the faces. He continued to look at her. Frustrated, she pointed.
“Stewart. Look at the princess,” she pleaded.
His gaze returned to the portrait. His jaw dropped.
“No. Good God, no,” he cried. “No.” He vehemently denied the truth his eyes told him was real. “You’re Natasha Hathaway.”
Stewart looked up at her and then back to the portrait.
“This can’t be your family.” He studied the picture again. “These are not your brothers. These are not the men I became acquainted with.”
“You must believe me,” she pleaded. “I feel your despair. I would rather die a thousand deaths than see you grieving so. Natasha Hathaway would be honoured, proud, and privileged to be your wife, but I cannot.”
Stewart’s attention shifted to the bed.
“I violated the princess. Worse, I have disgraced my family. Tarnished my father’s name. I will most certainly be hanged, or lose my head. I shall die in shame.”
“No-o-o,” she assured him. “This shall be our secret. A secret I shall take to the grave.”
He looked into her eyes and scowled. His eyes were a cold shade of blue.
“You deceived me, from the day we met. Everything has been a lie.”
He grabbed the box with the ring inside and stalked toward the door without saying another word.
“Stewart, please. Allow me—” Natasha jumped from the side of the bed and ran after him. The door was left swinging open. “—to explain,” she whispered.
She looked down the empty hallway as he exited the building. It was over. She always knew it would end, but it wasn’t supposed to end this way. In her imagination, their relationship ended with a sad but pleasant goodbye. Not with tears and anger. She closed her door and stumbled back to the bed they had shared. Grabbing the pillow Stewart had rested on she pressed it to her face, curled into the fetal position, and cried inconsolably. I have been such a fool. I never questioned the fact my heart would be broken, but Stewart was not to suffer. I am a stupid, naïve fool.
* * *
Suddenly, the scene before Keeghan shifted from the grief-stricken girl in the dorm room to images flickering across the screen, a recap of the story she just experienced. When it ended she turned her attention to Alexander, hoping for an explanation.
“Enough for now. You require time to absorb the information you have been given.”
“You can’t end the story there.”
“It is time you returned to your home.”
He stood and walked off, disappearing.