Be My Prince (23 page)

How the public felt about her she could not yet be certain, for the king’s funeral was a somber affair denoted by bowed heads and silence in the streets. It was not a time for celebration or cheering crowds, nor was it a time for scandal.

She suspected, however, that scandal was nevertheless brewing quietly behind a number of closed doors at the palace, mostly inhabited by ambitious members of the New Regime. It was all she could do to remain calm and patient. And wait for the dust to settle.

*   *   *

For a full week after the funeral Randolph did not come to Alexandra’s bed, and with each passing day she grew increasingly uneasy.

“Why does he not come to me?” she asked Lucille as they strolled past the reflecting pool one afternoon in the palace gardens. “I feel terribly closed off from the world, and I have no notion of what is going on out there in the minds of the people. My ladies-in-waiting tell me nothing. I respect that my husband is in mourning, but I wish he would allow me to share in his grief. When he stays away like this, it makes me wonder if he has come to regret his decision to marry me. Perhaps there are others who are poisoning his mind against me.”

Lucille glanced over her shoulder to ensure they were not being followed too closely. “Then you must go to him and remind him of the passion that exists between you. He is in love with you, Alexandra. There is no doubt about that. And what of your courses? Is there any chance you are with child yet?”

Alexandra frowned. “Now is hardly the time to be plotting, Mama. King Frederick has been gone only a week. Besides, it is a private matter between my husband and me.”

“It most certainly is
not
a private matter,” Lucille replied. “It is the business of the state. You must prove that you are fertile and produce an heir as quickly as possible to secure your position. I assure you it will gain you much popularity, especially since the king’s death. The people are crying for good news. They need you now more than ever.”

Again they began walking at a relaxed pace that revealed nothing of the mad chaos that was overtaking Alexandra’s mind. When she arrived in Petersbourg she had felt like an interloper, yet she had been hopeful. Certainly she had not expected the king to die so soon after their arrival.

Often she was met with silence and lowered gazes. She tried to tell herself that it was proper protocol, for she was a queen now and there were certain rules of etiquette to obey, but she had never felt so alone in her entire life.

Why wouldn’t Randolph come to her? All she wanted was to feel the pleasure of his touch and to know that what they had enjoyed together during the North Sea crossing was not a dream.

Just then, Nicholas came striding out of the palace door on a direct path toward them. He reached them not far from a tall cedar hedge and bowed. “Your Majesty, the king has requested your presence in the Privy Council Chamber.” He nodded at Lucille. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

“He wishes to see me now?” Alex inquired.

“Yes, he is waiting for you.”

Her belly exploded with apprehension. “May I ask what this is about?”

Nicholas met her gaze directly. “I cannot say.”

“Cannot or
will
not?” she pressed him.

He gave no reply as he waited to escort her into the palace.

“Fine,” she said as she picked up her skirts and brushed past him to lead the way. “Take me to him, if you please, Nicholas—for I wish to speak to him as well.”

Her brother-in-law followed her while Lucille was left behind, standing in the cool shelter of the cedars.

*   *   *

Alexandra walked into the court chamber and stopped just inside the door. Randolph was pacing back and forth in front of an unlit fireplace, looking handsome and regal in a dark green coat and fawn breeches, an elaborately tied cravat and dark brown boots polished to a fine sheen.

“You summoned me, Majesty.”

“Yes,” he replied. “There is something we must discuss.”

Acutely aware of Nicholas standing just behind her, she turned and said, “Leave us, please.”

He did not need to be asked twice. With a courtly bow, he backed out of the room.

“There is no need to be rude,” Randolph said without humor as he approached her.

“That was not rude, and I cannot help it if I am irritable. You have been ignoring me for seven days. Why do you wish to see me now? Have I been remiss in my queenly duties, though I have no notion of what they are, for you have provided me with no guidance whatsoever. I can barely find my way around the palace. Perhaps you wish me simply to perform my marital duties. I am beginning to think that is the only thing required of me.”

Randolph regarded her steadily in the hush of the room. “You are displeased with me.”

Her blood was already boiling, and she hated the fact that just the sound of his voice could stroke her like a caress.

“Yes,” she replied, less hostile now. “I only wish to know why you have been avoiding me. I understand it has been a difficult time, but I would like to be of some comfort to you.”

He turned his back on her. “It is not comfort I need from you presently,” he said. “It is something else entirely.”

She frowned. “And what would that be?”

“Strength.” He faced her again.

She shook her head as a dark shadow of apprehension moved over her. “Why? Has something happened?”

“Yes, and you must know every detail. There are some members of the household who are suspicious of the fact that only days after I arrived at the palace—having taken a Tremaine princess as my bride—the king is pronounced dead.”

Her stomach clenched tight with panic. “What are you suggesting?”

“I am suggesting that you are being watched very carefully.”

She understood this hidden accusation and strode forward. “By whom? And who is responsible for such slander? I demand to know.”

“Indeed you should,” he quickly replied. “I have traced the accusation to its source and have removed the offender from his position at the palace and imprisoned him for uttering words of treason.”

Surprised by her husband’s firm and swift hand at administering justice and defending her honor, she inclined her head curiously. “Who was this offender?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “An underbutler.”

Her head drew back in surprise. “A servant? How old?”

“Not yet twenty. Perhaps you should sit down.”

She sank into a chair at the polished mahogany table and considered this information. “I was expecting it to be the Lord Chamberlain, or someone from the Treasurer’s Office, not a servant, so young.”

“In my experience the most outspoken rebels are usually the young ones,” he told her. “With age and maturity, one learns the importance of discretion.”

She watched him pace in front of the stone fireplace. “Your father was already ill when I arrived,” she mentioned. “You know I had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course I know,” he replied, sounding almost angry that she would suggest otherwise. “He was ill before I even decided to travel to England. It is idle gossip, nothing more, but I made an example of the man so others will know better in the future.”

“How wonderful,” she said. “They will be whipped into thinking and feeling exactly what we wish them to think and feel, or at least learn how to be silent.”

He regarded her curiously. “You believe I should have acted differently?”

“No,” she replied, gathering her composure and rising from her chair to pace about the room. “I am grateful that you were so steadfast in your defense of my honor. It is important that we present a united front. We told them it was a love match after all, didn’t we?”

His blue eyes narrowed with intensity as he stared at her.

She glanced toward the door, wondering if he wished for her to leave now.

“You walked in here with a fire at your heels,” he said, changing the subject.

“Yes.”

Slowly, he strode closer, and though she tried to resist his allure, the husky timbre of his voice stirred her blood.

“You indicated that you were displeased with me,” he said. “Are you displeased with me
now
?”

She could not ignore the passionate fire that sizzled between them. One look from him and desire was everywhere.

“Yes,” she replied. “Nothing has changed, and you have not yet answered my question.”

“Which question?”

“Why you have not come to my bed.”

He backed her up against the table and stood very close—so close she could feel his moist breath against her cheek. “I’ve had much to do,” he told her.

“Ah, yes … you are a king now and must fulfill your duties, but may I remind you, sir, that one very important duty for us both is to provide this country with an heir.”

His hand slid around her waist, and he pulled her close. “I do not need to be reminded, Wife. I am quite aware of it, every second of the day.”

Knowing it was pointless to fight the intensity of her passions, she slid up onto the table, parted her knees, and gracefully lay back.

Her husband gazed down at her for the longest moment; then, with a smooth touch that made her quiver, he ran his hand slowly up her leg, raised her skirts, and began to stroke the tingling flesh between her thighs.

She let out a soft moan of rapture, and just before she reached the pinnacle of her desire he hooked his arms under her knees and tugged her closer to the edge. He then leaned down over her and began to kiss her throat while he unbuttoned his jacket and unfastened his breeches.

Soon their mouths met in a hot kiss of ravenous hunger, and she struggled to push his jacket off over his broad shoulders. He helped to rip it off, then climbed onto the table, came down upon her, and thrust deep inside her aching womanhood.

“I apologize,” he said as he made love to her with exquisite control and unimaginable skill, “for not coming to you sooner, but I cannot become too distracted.”

“Like you are distracted now?”

He sucked at her neck. “You mock me, darling.”

“Yes, and if you want me to behave myself, you must promise to come to me each and every night.”

He began to thrust harder and faster. “Maybe I don’t want you to behave yourself.”

The scorching heat of a climax began to mobilize within her, and she could not hold back. Her body erupted with a thousand tiny bursts of pleasure, and she arched her back on the table, biting back a wanton, impetuous cry.

She had barely recovered her senses when he followed her with an equally violent climax, groaned passionately, and shot his seed into her womb.

Exhausted and spent, he collapsed upon her and whispered in her ear, “I will come to you again tonight.”

“Do I have your word?”

“Yes. It will take an army to keep me away.”

A short while later they parted at the door, and with flushed cheeks and an untidy knot in her hair Alexandra exited the court chamber.

As she made her way across the great banqueting hall, her shoes clicking noisily over the marble floor, she was keenly aware of Prince Nicholas leaning at his ease against the far wall, idly plucking grapes from a small bunch in his hand and popping them into his mouth. He watched her with dark, hooded eyes.

As she approached, he finished the grapes, pushed away from the wall, and bowed to her, as was required of him, but she felt his dangerous gaze burning into her back until she reached the door in haste and headed back to her private chamber.

*   *   *

“And what did she have to say about it?” Nicholas asked as he shut the door behind him and strode into the court chamber with a passing glance at the mahogany table.

Randolph poured each of them a glass of brandy. “She thanked me for defending her honor, of course, and denied any involvement.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Yes. Father’s health was failing long before we set sail for England, and the doctor confirmed it was cancer. To think otherwise is pure conjecture.”

Nicholas took a sip of the brandy and regarded Rand shrewdly. “Are you sure you can be objective about her?”

“What are you saying, Nick?”

His brother merely shrugged. “I am only here to remind you of our conversation on the ship. You told me that she prevents you from thinking clearly.”

All at once, Rand experienced a flash memory of the sexual frenzy that had exploded in his brain just now when she reclined on the table before him.

He swirled his brandy around a few times before raising it to his lips.

God, he could still smell her intoxicating womanly scent on his fingers.…

Nick finished his drink and set it down on the table. “Just be careful. That is all I ask.”

“No need for concern,” Rand replied. “I’ve got my wits about me.”

He waited for Nick to leave the chamber, then had to fight hard to focus on official palace correspondence.

Chapter Twenty-six

“I am not quite sure what to expect,” Alexandra said to Randolph as she stepped up onto the dais and sat down beside him.

Her first lady-in-waiting arranged Alexandra’s skirts around the throne—an ornately carved monster of a chair, identical in size and design to her husband’s—while the Lord Chamberlain stood inside the door, speaking quietly to Nicholas.

“It may take a few hours,” Randolph explained, leaning close over the armrest. “Presently the visitors are assembled in the antechamber, where they will wait until the Lord Chamberlain invites them to enter individually. Each guest will make his reverence to us just inside the door and present a wedding gift. He will then withdraw, and the next guest will be escorted inside.”

“I don’t require gifts,” Alex said. “You gave me everything I wanted last night, and the night before that, and the night before that.”

Within moments, the great doors swung open and the Lord Chamberlain announced the American Ambassador, who presented Alex and Randolph with two jewel-encrusted golden goblets. They spoke to him briefly, thanked him for the gift, and awaited the next visitor.

“The Marquess of Cavanaugh,” the Lord Chamberlain announced, “on behalf of his father, the Duke of Kaulbach.”