Page 101 of Fit for a King

“If you’re looking for Noah,” she said, “he isn’t here.”

It was a lie, but I understood protecting someone you loved. I’d need to earn her forgiveness as well as Noah’s.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Bennett, I know he’s here.”

There was a stubborn set to her jaw as she replied, “I think you should leave.”

“I will, if that’s what Noah wants.”

“And if I say it’s what I want?”

“Then I would respect that you’re protecting your son.”

“But you’d insist anyway.”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re the king?”

“No.” I looked her right in the eye so she knew I was speaking the truth. “Because I love him.”

Her eyes softened, but I could sense the fear that I could hurt Noah. That I had hurt him. She looked past me, toward the sea. “You broke my boy’s heart.”

“I know.”

“No, Your Majesty, I don’t think you do.” Her voice shook a little, like she was trying to show restraint because of my title. “I don’t think men like you truly ever know what it means for men like him to love someone above their rank. You can walk into any room and be respected because of who you are. Noah walks in and has to prove he deserves to stand there. Your lives are not the same.”

I held her gaze, not wanting to look away from the truth of her words.

“You’re right,” I said. “I hurt Noah. I told myself distance would keep him safe. He deserved better from me.”

“Yes. He did.” She stepped toward me, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “He’s got a job waiting for him at Sutherland House. He leaves today. It’s good work. Honest work. Work that won’t have him looking over his shoulder because there are whispers about him. He deserves peace and a good life. I want my son to be with someone who doesn’t need to turn him into a secret to love him.”

“You’re right,” I told her, swallowing hard. “That’s why I’m here. I love your son, Mrs. Bennett. I want to be with him. I want a life with him. One that’s not a secret, where I can show him every day that he’s the most incredible man I’ve ever met and deserves the world.”

Whatever protest was coming next died on her tongue.

“I need to see him. Not to issue some royal command, but to beg for his forgiveness and tell him what I should’ve told him before he left Montclair.”

She stared at me for a long time. “And if he says no?”

“Then I will leave him in peace.”

She looked surprised. “You’ll let him go?”

God, I couldn’t fathom it, letting him go again—couldn’t think about an outcome where he didn’t choose me the same way I’d chosen him—and had to force myself to nod. “Yes.”

I held my breath as her eyes narrowed, and just when I thought she was going to tell me to leave, she nodded toward the cliffs.

“He’s out walking.”

My breath left me in a rush. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” I nodded and turned around, and she said, “Your Majesty?”

“Yes?”

“If you hurt him again, I don’t care that there’s a crown on your head. I’ll find a way to make you regret it.”