“No, you shouldn’t.” She set her teacup down. “But I’m here to help.”
I looked at her and laughed. “You have no idea what you’re signing up for.”
“Then tell me.”
“My father . . . he’s an angry drunk, Rachel. And he takes it out on the closest person he can find.” I sat down in the chair, defeated. Telling someone such a deep, dark secret was physically painful. I felt drained to the point of exhaustion. “It’s why I moved to England with Marty.”
“Sweetheart, you’re not the first person to deal with this. Hell, you’re not the first royal to deal with this.”
I couldn’t help but snort when she cursed. “I know that, I do.”
“There’s a reason that they chose me to come out here. My father was a right bastard.” Those words said in her motherly tone made me shake my head. “My mother worked for the palace, so it wasn’t a big secret. It wasn’t until she went in to work with a black eye that anyone did anything about it.”
“What could they do?” I shook my head.
“They offered him treatment. He refused.” She shrugged. “So they gave her the means to leave him without worrying about her children.”
I didn’t say anything. I had left. I had moved away and was starting to make a new life for me and my son. Now here I was dancing around my father and feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.
“You see, sweetie, family isn’t just what you’re born into. It’s also the friends and loved ones that find you along the way.” She smiled. “And the crown feels that way about you.”
“Is this something Max set up?”
“Max?” She frowned. “No, not as far as I’m aware.”
“Then he’s also here under orders from the queen?” The thought made me far sadder than it should.
“I don’t know Prince Maxwell very well, but I would assume whatever he is doing is because he wants to. I don’t believe he takes on many tasks that might require he be in the spotlight.”
“And why is that?”
“No one’s told you?” Rachel sighed heavily. “Max loathes the media.”
“Why?” I knew he hated the media, just not why.
“Max was at a school tournament when his father died. Before anyone could get to him, the media bombarded him.” She paused. “He found out his father died from a reporter who wanted a quote.”
EIGHT
I SWUNG MY LEGS over the side of my bed and ran my hands through my hair. I’d had the same dream about Dad again. He was riding his horse and fell just before I could get to him. I hadn’t been able to move, frozen in place as it happened in slow motion in front of me. I could hear the snap of his back as he hit the ground . . .
Standing up, I stretched to work out the kinks in my back. It felt like I had been asleep for days instead of a few hours. Those dreams always did a number on me. There was only one way to get rid of the pent-up tension, and that was to draw. I pulled my stool over to my desk and let my mind wander. Faint lines became darker lines, and it wasn’t until I was shading that I realized who I was drawing.
Meredith’s bright eyes were cut to the side as she looked at me, her hair trailing over one shoulder. My fingers itched to find a red that would do her hair justice, but I stopped myself. Why had it been her? The woman surrounded by trouble, the mother of a little boy.
But that kiss last night—that had been something else. It had hit all the right points. I could still remember the way she smelled, how she fit against my body. No wonder I was still thinking about her.
I stood up and left the paper on my desk, not sure what to do with it. Not ready to answer why it had been her face that had soothed my brain.
I slipped on some pants and headed outside. A run would get rid of the last of my lingering stress. When I got outside, I was surprised to see Cathy stretching while chatting on the phone. She quickly said good-bye and hung up when she saw me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Shouldn’t you be at Rousseau Manor? Shacked up with what’s his name?” I sat down next to her. I knew David’s name, hell, I even liked him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to give her a hard time about it.
“He’s doing a guest lecture in Minnesota.” She leaned over to touch her head to her knee. “And then going to visit his family.”
“You didn’t go with him? I thought you two were joined at the hip.” I shook my head as I watched her stretch. “You know, tall people aren’t supposed to be that flexible.”