The Queen

Chapter Eight

She had spent the entire day in her room. Praying. Hoping. Scared out of her mind at what tonight held for her. Maxwell had sent Hannah in with a new dress. It was beautiful. Soft and light. The light cream fabric set off her hair and eyes. Letting her face be the star. It flowed gracefully down every curve of her. Not tight, but enough hug from the fabric to show off her figure. And it was breathtaking.

Breathless, Maxwell smiled at her, "You look ravishing, Katherine."

She smiled, "You really think so?"

She looked every bit like a Queen. If the king couldn't see that he was blind. He took a step backward, needing to put some space between them.

"Absolutely." He cleared his throat and bowed his head. Realizing he was staring. He quickly regained his composer. "Uh, he — the king that is — wanted me to offer you any of the crown jewels to wear this evening."

"I'll wear whatever you think best."

Maxwell caught himself staring again and gave her a half-grin, "I don't think any of them would do you justice. You look perfect just the way you are."

She blushed at his flattery, "Then I don't think I'll be needing them tonight."

Maxwell gave her an encouraging smile, "He's waiting." Taking a deep breath, she nodded yet did not move. He gently brushed her hand with his, "You'll be just fine. I won't be far if you need me."

She stared at him for a moment, questioning him. "You're not coming in with me?"

"No."

That was all he offered, leaving her limbo about his motives for staying nearby but not entering. Was he simply being a good Samaritan knowing what the evening might hold — or did he have a more personal interest in her well-being?

Finally, after a long pause, she gave a small nod and stepped forward ready to meet the king for the very first time.

As Maxwell led the way, she wondered if the stories she had heard where true. If the king was indeed a womanizer. If her purpose here was only for his pleasure and if all her hopes and dreams for finding love were just that — a dream.

Finally, in the West Wing, Maxwell stopped at the large, grand oak doors and turned to her, "I will come for you in the morning." He gently pushed open one of the doors, "Enjoy your night with the king."

Katie stared at him, shaking. She was more scared than she had ever been to meet the man on the other side of that door, yet she stepped through it anyway. Maxwell called to her, "It's the second door on your left."

At the door he had indicated, she took a deep breath and knocked. A few moments passed and finally on the other side of the door she heard a familiar voice, "The door is open."

Closing her eyes, she drew in a shaky breath and eased past the open door, focusing on the soft neutral carpet beneath her feet. She took a quick inventory of the large bedroom.

A European Saint Germain sofa set collection inspired by the majestic imperial style took up a small section near the fireplace. She silently admired the Italian design enriched by the refined details and contrast offered by the hand-carved flowers in the Mahogany wood finished in a Parisian brown with blended light gold and antique silver. The special attention to detail emerge in the finishing of the fabric upholstery clearly achieved through hours of work by a trained craftsman.

Never looking up, the king sat on the sofa facing the fire, reading a book. He just sat there. Fear coursed through her. His face seemed kind every encounter she had with him...but she was terrified of the man sitting in front of her. Absolutely terrified.