Giselle's Choice (4 page)

Her initial climax was sharp and immediate, but Saul drove them both on with deep passion-filled strokes within her that took her beyond her own experience to a place where her flesh clung to his for support during their shared journey just as she clung to him.

The cry that Saul uttered in the final seconds of their shared release seemed to Giselle to be wrested from the very heart of him.

Lying holding Giselle, whilst his heartbeat slowed back to its normal rate, Saul felt his own relief fill him. They were alive, and they were together. They had climbed the heights and plunged down from them together, their journey driving the dark bleakness of
Aldo's death from his heart and restoring to him his strength and self belief. Their lovemaking had touched his soul. But he couldn't talk about how he felt. He didn't want Giselle, whom he loved so much, to think of him as emotionally weak and unable to deal with everything Aldo's loss meant.

Instead he must be strong. He must forge a future for them both out of the funeral pyre which would consume the plans they had previously made. He must prove to Giselle that he was strong enough to make that future for them. He must show her that she could trust him to take the burden fate had dropped onto his shoulders and lift it high enough to enable them to live a life as close to the one they had originally planned as possible whilst at the same time carrying the weight of the promise he had given Aldo. Until he had fathomed out for himself how best that could be done—until he could stand before Giselle and show her how it could be done—he wasn't going to discuss the situation with her.

The last thing he wanted was for her to be burdened by anxiety and worry about the change in their circumstances. He might owe it to Aldo to keep his promise to him, but far more important was the duty of love and protection that he owed to Giselle.

Aldo's death had changed their lives completely, Giselle herself would be aware of that, knowing as she did that he was Aldo's closest living relative. She would know and understand that he was duty-bound to step into Aldo's shoes, of course, since they had both always known that he was Aldo's heir. Technically, yes. But neither of them had ever expected that Saul would be
called on to fulfil his responsibility towards that duty. Why should they have done, with Aldo younger than Saul, and married to a woman who had made no secret of the fact that she wanted to bear the future Grand Duke? Fate, though, had had other ideas, and now it was his duty to take up the responsibility Aldo's death had thrust upon him. With Giselle at his side, he would build a new life on the foundations his ancestors had set in place—not just for themselves, but for all those his promise to Aldo had brought within his care.

T
HE STATE FUNERAL, WITH
all its sombreness and solemnity, was over, and Aldo had been laid to rest in the Royal Mausoleum, Natasha at his side. Naturally as Aldo's cousin Saul had been called upon to play a leading role in the proceedings, being with the heads of other Royal Houses and the representatives of other governments who had attended the funeral. And Giselle, as Saul's wife, had also had her part to play—a part not so very different, really, from her role within Saul's business as his wife and business partner.

Now those mourners had returned to their own countries, and two days after the state funeral Giselle and Saul were finally free to be on their own in Saul's apartments.

‘Have I thanked you yet for all that you've done these last few days?' Saul asked Giselle warmly as they sat together in the private courtyard of his apartment, enjoying the morning sunshine as they ate their breakfast.

‘You don't have to thank me. I wanted to help, and in truth it wasn't really any different from the socialising we have to do for the business—although I did feel a bit awkward at times, with so many of the royals who
attended the funeral assuming that you would be stepping into Aldo's shoes. I lost count of the number of invitations we got to visit their royal courts. Not that I would want to accept them.'

‘Me neither—given free choice,' Saul agreed. ‘But as we both know Aldo's death means that we no longer have that free choice.'

Immediately Giselle's smile faded. ‘What do you mean?' she demanded.

‘You know what I mean. I mean that I
am
going to have to step into Aldo's shoes, and because of that—'

‘What?' Coffee splashed from Giselle's cup onto her black linen dress as she fought and lost the battle to control her shocked disbelief. ‘You can't mean that, Saul,' she protested. ‘You've always said that ruling is the last thing you'd want. When we got married you—'

Her reaction had caught Saul off guard. It wasn't what he had expected. He had assumed that she had realised what must happen. Now, manlike, his reaction to what his alpha male brain interpreted as an attack on his honesty and his ability to elicit her total confidence led him into immediate and sharp self-defence, through an attack of his own. ‘I know what I said, Giselle. But things have changed. Aldo's death has changed everything—you must know that.'

‘I
must
know it?' Saul's totally unexpected and completely unwelcome declaration had filled Giselle with a panic that was mixed with anger and a sense of betrayal. ‘What I know is that I married a man who swore to me that he would never want to rule this country.'

‘I
still
don't want to rule it. This isn't a matter of what
I
want,
Giselle. It's a matter of what I must do.' What had happened to his plans of proudly placing before Giselle a carefully planned strategy for what he hoped for their future and the future of the country? ‘You said that Aldo's death meant that the country would need a strong leader,' Saul reminded Giselle.

‘Yes, I did,' Giselle was forced to admit. ‘But I didn't mean that
you
should take over from Aldo. How could you think I would mean that when you've always said that it was the last thing you'd want to do? I meant that the country needed to elect a democratically chosen strong leadership? How can you sit there and tell me that you are going to step into Aldo's shoes? It goes against everything you've said to me—everything I've believed and trusted about you. I feel that I can't have ever really known you.' The strength of her emotions made her voice tremble and filled her eyes with tears.

Saul felt his heart sink. Deep down inside, wasn't this what a part of him had secretly feared? Even if he had hidden that fear and convinced himself that Giselle
must
know what Aldo's death would mean.

‘I can't believe you've chosen to do something like this,' Giselle told him. ‘I didn't
choose
to do it,' Saul said quietly. ‘Before he died Aldo begged me to give him my promise that I would. For the sake of the country, Giselle.' Saul continued when she simply looked at him in angry rejection. ‘He said it was a matter of duty to our people and to our shared ancestry. I realise that this is coming as a shock to you, and that's my fault, but please try to see the positive side of things.'

‘What positive side?' Giselle was trembling with rage and dismay. ‘You assured me that ruling Arezzio was the last thing you would ever want, and now you're telling me to look on the positive side? The positive side of what, Saul? You lying to me? Deceiving me?'

‘I haven't lied to you or deceived you. When I said that, I meant it.'

‘But now you've changed your mind? Just like that? Without a word to me?'

‘It isn't just like that. I never expected Aldo to die before me, but he has. This country needs us, Giselle. There's so much we can do here—for the people and for the country. They need our help. We can build schools, educate the people, send them to the best universities in the world. We can build a country that values its people, that supports and encourages them.'

The passion and enthusiasm in his voice fell against Giselle's heart like physical blows. ‘You've already made up your mind, haven't you?' she accused him. ‘You've decided what you're going to do. So much for our marriage being an equal and true partnership. When it comes to the things that matter most you didn't even stop to think about consulting me.'

‘I've already told you—I thought you'd guessed. Giselle, I need you to support me in this. I'm sorry if you feel I've failed you. That wasn't my intention.'

Saul desperately wanted her to understand, and to share with him his determination to find something positive in the dramatic change in their future. He hated seeing her so upset, knowing that he was the cause of
her distress, but at the same time part of him felt that she could have been more appreciative of his position.

She obviously didn't intend to be, though, because she said bitterly, ‘How can I trust you any more when you've made such an important decision about our shared future without saying a word to me?'

How could all his plans have gone so badly wrong?

‘I've already explained. I thought you'd guessed…realised… I believed, and I still believe now, that you would see the potential to do good in what fate has handed us, and that you'd want to respond to that challenge, to that demand on everything we have and are together, for the good of others.'

‘What about the good we are already doing through our charity, our plans? You can't rule this country and still give the time and the commitment we give to that.'

‘The charity has reached a stage where a committee and trustees appointed by us can run it in our place. You know that's true.'

Giselle did, but she didn't want to admit it.

‘Can't you see, Giselle? This is a new challenge for us—a new call on all that we know we can give and all that we've already learned about that giving. You are the one who gave me the encouragement and inspiration to begin the children's charity projects. I need that support from you here and now, more than ever. We are soul mates, you and I. We both know that.'

The pain inside her was unbearable—because all of what he had said was true. Just as it was equally true that she could not go with him into the future he was
planning. If he went ahead and stepped into Aldo's shoes then he would have to do so without her.

‘You talk about
us,
' she told him sadly, ‘but it is your intention to take Aldo's place no matter how I feel, or what I say, or what promises you made to me, isn't it?'

Saul ached to take her in his arms and beg her to understand—but he had a meeting to attend, and once she was in his arms their intimacy would not end with a single kiss. It never did. The magical cord that linked them together meant that to touch one another was to want one another, and to prove their need and love for one another in the most intimate way possible. Perhaps it was their mutual lack of physical affection from their parents that meant that the physical intimacy they shared was so very special to them, so cherished by them. Saul didn't know. He only knew that to hold Giselle in his arms was to want to go on holding her.

‘I have to, Giselle,' was all he could say to her. ‘I didn't want to at first—everything you've said, I felt too. But perhaps there is more to my ancestry than I've ever previously allowed for. Aldo was right; it
is
my duty to do the best I can for the people of this country.'

With every word Saul spoke Giselle's heart sank further and her panic increased—until she felt that her fear was threatening to choke her.

‘I can see that I've shocked you,' Saul admitted. ‘But please, darling, try to think how much we can do here together, how much we can improve the lot of the people. Please try to understand that this is where my duty lies, where our future together lies.'

‘What about your duty to me? To us? You say you promised Aldo you would take his place, but what about your promise to
me
before we got married? What you're going to do changes everything between us. It threatens everything that matters most to me and all that I believed mattered most to you as well.'

‘Oh, sweetheart.' Saul was remorseful as he heard the anxiety in her voice, guessing that what was worrying her was the personal freedom she felt they would lose to their shared royal duty. Saul had no intention of allowing that to happen. ‘My taking Aldo's place here doesn't affect us or our relationship. I would never allow anything to do that,' he assured her. ‘I know that this change in our plans must seem daunting, but we shall still be us, Giselle. Our love for one another won't change. I would never let it.'

Giselle's reaction to his news was not the one he had hoped for, Saul admitted, but he wasn't going to let her antagonism towards it come between them. As a successful businessman he knew that sometimes plans had to be changed at a moment's notice, and that in order to survive in a modern and highly competitive business market a person needed to adapt, to see opportunities and not problems, and to change any problems into opportunities. He had believed that Giselle shared that mindset, but now her refusal to take on board the opportunities for the greater good that lay in this change in their circumstances was creating a barrier between them, and Giselle, with her angry accusations, seemed determined to enforce it. He was a man who was used
to taking control and exercising that control—and he was determined to do that now.

‘This isn't helping either of us,' he told her firmly. ‘I accept that I made an error of judgement in believing that you had already guessed what had happened and were with me in this change to our lives and the way forward. I should have checked that I was right instead of simply assuming I was. I acknowledge that you've every right to be angry with me about that, but accusing me of not considering our relationship—our marriage—and not putting it first is neither fair nor honest. Nothing about what we share has changed or can be changed by outside circumstances. Only you and I have the power to do that.

‘Think about it. Giselle,' he pleaded with her, getting up and coming towards her. ‘Think about how much good we could do here together, working for the people. Think about how fate brought us together—two people who shared the damage done to them by the deaths of their parents and all that went with that—and ask yourself if fate isn't once again at work here, bringing us both together again to a place and a time where we can do so much for people who have so little. You of all people can surely understand the sense of responsibility I feel towards these people through my blood? I admit that I did not feel or think like this in the past, and that it has taken Aldo's death to make me aware of my duty, but now that I am aware of it I cannot walk away from that duty—' He broke off and shook his head.

‘I have to go. I've got an appointment with the senior members of Aldo's government in ten minutes. We'll
have to finish talking about this later, but whilst I am gone please try to think positively about the future. You mean everything to me, Giselle. Without you I have and am nothing. Your love sustains me and supports me. You are my life.'

He was gone before she could say anything.

 

After Saul had gone Giselle paced the courtyard, her heart pounding, her thoughts in chaotic panic. She was oblivious to the sunshine and the tranquil symmetry of the elegantly designed outside living space that had so pleased her less than an hour earlier.

Saul had been at pains to reassure her over and over again that the fact that he was stepping into Aldo's shoes did not and could not in any way alter their relationship, but he was wrong. Very wrong. Because what he had done would destroy it. What
Saul
had done? Giselle's body shook with the force of her emotions. This was her punishment for deceiving him—for not telling him the full truth about her past and the dark and dangerous secret that lay there. She had gambled with fate and she had lost. Just as she would now lose Saul.

Grief and despair filled her, seizing her body and her mind. Was it selfish of her to wish that Aldo had not died? To wish that she could turn back the clock—to where? To the day of their marriage, when her great-aunt had asked her if she had told Saul everything and she had replied yes? To before then? To her own childhood? Before that? Did she wish that she herself had never been given life?

Yes, when the price of that life was the burden she was forced to bear—the knowledge of the horror of which she herself might be capable and the fear of passing that horror to her own child, which had made her vow that she must never
have
a child.