Be My Prince (10 page)

Her mouth went dry, and she swept her tongue across her lips, feeling very confused while her mind went to battle with her emotions and desires. Oh, how desperately she wanted him. How she ached to move closer and touch him. “Why are you doing this to me, Nicholas? You have tempted me constantly toward something I made clear I did not want. And yet…”

It was the first time she had used his given name—an intimacy to which she should not have surrendered—but everything was spinning out of control so quickly.

A footman came by and collected their empty punch glasses, which reminded her that they were not alone here and they were no doubt being watched.

“I must return you to your chaperone,” he said, “but I cannot bear the thought of letting you go. All I do is dream of touching and holding you.… I beg of you, Alexandra. Do not reject me, for surely you are meant to be mine.”

Her breaths came fast and short. Her body was on fire with longing.

The music stopped.

What would happen next?

“You promised you would not do this to me,” she whispered. “You said you would let it go.”

He shook his head. “I would if I could, but I see now that it was an impossible promise I should have never made. I want you for myself, and I must warn you that I intend to fight for you. By God’s grace I will have you in my bed. You will not marry my brother. You will choose
me.
”

In one last attempt to cling to her sense of duty and ambitions, she scoffed. “Such bold declarations. This is exactly what I was warned against. It is why you have earned such a reputation.”

He rose to his feet. “My reputation has nothing to do with this and you know it, because you feel the same passion as I. You wanted me the first moment we met, and even then, you had no real interest in my brother, outside of the fact that he is the best catch of the Season—a golden prize—and you are ambitious.”

She stared up at him for a heart-stopping moment, then, half in a daze, placed her gloved hand in his.

“Follow your heart, Alexandra, and consider my suit as well.”

A moment later they reached Lucille, who watched them with suspicious eyes. Alexandra had to force herself to let go of his arm.

“Thank you for the honor of your company, Lady Alexandra,” he said with a bow. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With that, he walked out and left her trembling.

*   *   *

When they returned home from the ball, Alex and Lucille were surprised to discover Mr. Carmichael waiting for them in the library with urgent business to discuss. He sat before a roaring fire with a glass of brandy in his hand, as if he were lord and master there.

Lucille began to apologize profusely. “We are so sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Carmichael. We had no idea you intended to pay a visit this evening; otherwise we would have returned earlier. Shall I ring for biscuits and tea? Or a late supper, perhaps?”

He turned his impatient eyes to Alexandra and swirled his brandy around in the sparkling crystal glass, then gestured for them both to join him.

Lucille moved quickly to the sofa and sat down while Alexandra remained standing.

He tapped a finger repeatedly on the armrest as if he was very displeased about something, then finished his brandy and rose to pour himself another.

“What happened at Almack’s this evening?” he asked, returning to his seat by the fire.

“Why do you ask?” Alexandra challenged.

Lucille let out an apologetic little laugh while Mr. Carmichael sank back into his chair.

“I ask because I heard something of what occurred and I wonder what you have to say about it. Have you lost your nerve, Alexandra? Have you completely given up the dream of reclaiming your throne?”

Alex lifted her chin. “What exactly did you hear?”

Did he have spies in every corner of this city?

A log shifted in the grate, and a few bright sparks flew up into the chimney.

“I heard that Prince Randolph was seen with the beautiful widowed Countess of Haverston. He danced with her twice, and they disappeared for nearly an hour. Did you not notice?”

No, in truth, she had not. She’d had eyes for only one man all evening.

Relieved, however, that Mr. Carmichael was not here to scold her for the time she had spent with Nicholas, she relaxed her shoulders and sat down next to her stepmother.

“Was there some gossip about it?” she asked.

“Indeed there was. Lady Jersey had to put out a few fires, and Lady Castlereigh suggested that the countess’s subscription to Almack’s be permanently revoked. I daresay the countess has done irreparable damage to her reputation, and I hope the prince does not attempt to rescue her by offering marriage.”

Alexandra felt her eyebrows pull together in a frown, for the notion of another woman sitting upon
her
throne and giving birth to the future King of Petersbourg was enough to curl her toes, and in light of her feelings lately, she was surprised by the intensity of that reaction. “Do you think that is a possibility?”

Mr. Carmichael shrugged. “It is difficult to say. Quite frankly, I am shocked by this news. I cannot believe that the prince would engage in such unseemly behavior. It is the sort of thing one would expect of his brother, Nicholas, but not of
him
.”

Alexandra shifted uncomfortably on the sofa cushion.

Carmichael pointed a finger at her. “Mark my words, young lady, if you don’t soon win a proposal, he’ll wind up trapped by some other ruthless, ambitious female and you will be stuffed back into your little house in Wales, wondering why you hadn’t been more efficient when you had the chance.”

Alexandra drew back slightly. “By ‘efficient,’ do you mean fast and loose? Would you have me compromise my morals and risk my reputation and honor in the process? What if he decided such behavior was not becoming of a queen, and he cast me aside, as I suspect he will do with Lady Haverston?”

Feeling a little sick to her stomach, Alexandra stood. “If you will excuse me, sir. I am fatigued and must retire for the night.”

Praying he wouldn’t call her back, she left him in the library to finish his brandy while Lucille sat speechless on the sofa.

*   *   *

“I am not pleased,” Nigel said to Lucille. “She is becoming impudent. She does not seem to understand what is at stake. Certain risks must be taken.”

“She was always a high-spirited girl,” Lucille explained. “Even the duke could not control her when he was alive. Sometimes I thought he doted on her too much, but other times I felt he knew he could not win an argument with her—or any sort of battle of wills—so he simply gave in to what she wanted. She was never intimidated by authority.”

Nigel tapped his finger on the armrest again. “What would you have me do then? I have invested a great deal of money to put her back on the throne so that we may have a true monarch after the next succession. But I cannot orchestrate such an outcome if she will not do as I tell her to do.”

“As I said before, she is strong willed.” Lucille paused and chose her words carefully. “Perhaps you might be more successful if you won her trust and behaved as a loving father would. I believe that is what she truly desires. Perhaps, to use an old adage, you might get further with honey than with vinegar.”

Nigel set his glass down on the table, stood, and moved to the window, where he clasped his hands behind his back and looked out at the darkness.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said. “I do see the wisdom in your counsel.” He turned and smiled warmly. “You have been most helpful to me. I suppose I have been without a home for too many years and this loneliness has hardened my heart. I have forgotten how to be trusting, but you make me see that there are other ways to live.”

Lucille blushed. “Oh, Mr. Carmichael, you exaggerate. I merely hope to offer some helpful information about Alexandra’s character, which might aid you in getting what you want from her.”

He regarded her with a cunning look of approval. “But you did so much more than that, Your Grace. You have given me hope. I believe I may have my own happy ending to pursue. There is more to life than politics, isn’t that so?”

She laughed and agreed.

“I must strive,” he said, “to remember that. Now, won’t you please join me by the fire? Tell me about your late husband, the duke. Were you very young when you married him?”

*   *   *

Alexandra closed the door of her bedchamber, tipped her forehead against it, and closed her eyes.

She did not like all this strategic maneuvering, yet she had come to London determined to pursue that path. Now that she was here, however, and had met the prince and his handsome younger brother, nothing seemed quite the same. It was no longer a chessboard with black and white squares. This was her life, and she had her heart to consider.

And what of the wedding night? If she chose duty over love, how would she ever survive it when Randolph came to her bed and she longed for the touch of another man?

Opening her eyes, she found herself looking down at a letter on the floor, which must have been slipped under her door earlier that evening. It bore the red seal of the Royal Palace of Petersbourg.

Bending quickly to pick it up, she broke the seal and unfolded it, then hurried across the room to the dressing table, where she held it up to the candlelight.

My dear Alexandra,

Tomorrow, I will accompany my brother on a tour of the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, to which you are also invited. It is a public event, and we expect a great crowd.

I must see you. Please find a way to break free from the group and meet me outside the door. I will wait for you on the street and will think of nothing else until that moment.

Yours, with all my heart,

N.

Alexandra sank into a chair and read the letter a second time. What would her stepmother say if she knew what scandal was brewing in Alex’s mind? What kind of madness was this? Did she truly wish to throw away her only chance at reclaiming her family’s crown? Could she give it all up for love?

If that’s what this was. She had no idea. What if it was just a passing fling on his part? A temporary fit of passion on hers?

Rising from her chair, she read the letter one more time, then did a difficult thing.

She tossed it into the fire and watched it burn while she consoled herself by planning how she would succeed in sneaking away from the group in the museum tomorrow.

For she fully intended to do it. Her heart insisted upon it. Not even one of Mr. Carmichael’s incessant lectures about duty was going to stop her.

Chapter Ten

It was a miserable day for a trip to the Egyptian Hall. Rain was coming down in cold buckets from the sky and had filled the streets with puddles.

Alex, however, was undaunted. Not long after the museum tour began, she managed to slip away unnoticed through the constantly shifting crowd.

Shivering in the dampness as she walked out the front door, she paused next to a column in the shelter of the overhang and peered up and down the street.

At last, a quiet, husky voice spoke to her from the shadows. “You came.”

Alexandra turned to discover her love—yes, that’s what he was—standing behind the opposite column, dressed in a fur-trimmed double-breasted greatcoat, black boots polished to a fine sheen, and a stylish top hat. He held his leather gloves in his hands, and when he began to move toward her in that slow, sensual gait it was all she could do to keep from falling into his arms. She wanted him desperately, with unquenchable passion, despite what her sensible mind had to say about it.

“Yes,” she replied. “I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t bear another moment away from you.”

And there it was … surrender at last. Her true heart revealed.

Something flashed in his eyes. A look of relief. Or triumph, perhaps. He was pleased she had confessed such a thing.

Striding forward, he said, “Do not let yourself entertain any regrets about this, Alexandra. You are thrusting duty aside and choosing happiness instead. It pleases me to know you are here for no other reason but love.”

“Do not call it that,” she pleaded. “It is too much. I don’t know what this is. It may be a temporary infatuation. Rebellion perhaps. I admit, I am mystified.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then glanced away. “Come with me now. My coach is just over there.”

“My stepmother will notice my absence.”

“Five minutes is all I ask. Lift the hood of your cloak.”

Surrendering yet again to her natural impulses, she raised her hood and followed him up the street to that illustrious black vehicle parked at the corner. It gleamed brightly, washed clean by the driving rain, and was illuminated by a single beam of sunlight that had pierced through the clouds.

He handed her up into the dry, private confines of the coach while the rain roared like a beast on the roof.

“I apologize for the weather,” he said as he climbed in, shut the door, and joined her on the seat.

Oh, she was done for. While he removed his hat, whisked the water from the brim, and unbuttoned the top of his coat she was fascinated by his every move and couldn’t take her eyes off him. He smelled clean, like shaving soap. His hair was thick and wavy. She wanted to run her fingers through it. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

After setting his hat and gloves on the seat beside him, he reached out to lower the hood of her cloak and looked carefully into her eyes. He seemed to be admiring every detail of her face.

His hand rested on her knee. Her heart ignited with uncontrollable passion.

Next, without uttering a word, he slowly peeled off each of her gloves and set them on the seat behind him. He then touched the pad of his finger to the sensitive inside of her wrist and drew a little heart there.

Alex trembled.

“May I kiss you now?” he asked, leaning closer and touching his cheek lightly to hers.

“Yes…”

And just like that, all her dreams of the Petersbourg crown flew out the window and nothing mattered but the soft, warm touch of his lips.