Her Royal Masquerade (Her Royal Romance) (3 page)

The musicians smiled, dipped their heads in response, then cradled their instruments and began playing again. Vittorio led her onto the floor and gathered her into his arms.

“Music is seen as an indulgence in Stagatland,” Mia told him as they slowly danced in the center of the floor. “Most people in my country don’t see it as something that feeds the soul.” She sighed. “Perhaps you are right. We are a cold-blooded people.”

“If you are any example, I can’t believe you are at all cold-blooded,” Vittorio said. “However, I find it hard to believe any people would not be moved by music.” His tone was light, as not to offend, but the incredulity was clear in his voice.

“In my country’s defense, in such a harsh climate as ours, some days it is all we can do to survive. And in the past, life in Stagatland was all about survival. Our people didn’t have the time or energy to indulge in such a useless pastime.”

“But you don’t believe that.” Not a question. A statement. “You don’t consider music to be useless.”

“Oh no. My…ah, my uncle is a violinist. He’s very talented. I love to listen to him play. He and his friends create music that makes my heart soar.” Mia wished her father could have been here tonight, to listen to these incredible musicians and see the respect they were given. “But they only play for the enjoyment of a few. He’s employed in a bank. He could never make a living doing what he loves. Not in Stagatland.”

Vittorio tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I can see why you appreciate the music here tonight.”

She caught a whiff of his masculine scent and wanted to bury her face into the crook of his neck and inhale deeply. “Of course, we listen to music from other countries. We’re not that isolated. But our country doesn’t support the arts as you do here in Mezzano.”

“What activities does Stagatland support?”

His large hand pressed against her back. The warmth, the strength, seeped into her body. Heating her. She struggled to pick up the thread of their conversation.

“Sensible pursuits are expected of all our people.” She pressed her body along his hard length, which was not sensible at all. “Loyalty to country and family is most important. Drilled into our heads from an early age. Hard work is required, of course, from sun up until sun down.”

“And yet I’ve heard that their princess spends most of her time partying in other countries.”

Mia stifled a gasp. She leaned back to meet Vittorio’s gaze. She would have pulled out of his arms but he didn’t loosen his hold on her. His expression didn’t show censure, but something more like curiosity.

She sighed and tried a small smile. “Luckily the people in our country love the royal family so much that they forgive their future queen just about anything. If they indulge at all, it’s in sensational stories about their princess. Perhaps they like to live vicariously through…um, through my experiences.” It was the only excuse she could give Birgitte.

Again, Mia wished she’d researched Vittorio before making the trip to Mezzano. But how could she have ever expected to find herself in his arms? Even though she agreed with his comment about Birgitte’s escapades, her loyalty to her cousin required her to try to defend her. What would Birgitte say in her defense? Surely Vittorio was not perfect. “I doubt the future king of Mezzano hasn’t sowed a few wild oats of his own.”

The sudden uneasy expression on his face told Mia she’d struck a nerve. “Touché, Princess. Although I’m afraid royal duties keep me close to the palace now.” He swept a lazy hand along her hair and grazed her cheek with his jaw, the slight roughness surprisingly arousing. “I can’t fault you for enjoying your freedom while you can.”

She heard the sadness in his voice and wondered if the king’s illness was more serious than Vittorio had let on.

Mia’s skin tingled as Vittorio continued to play with her hair and softly brushed her face with his once again. They were barely moving, not doing much more than swaying in each other’s arms to the rhythm of the music. His breath was warm along her cheek. He murmured a few words she didn’t recognize. Soft words with a silky, sensual feel to them, just like the lips that were now teasing along her jaw line.

Her breath caught when his lips found hers. He drew them lightly across hers, not a real kiss, but the hint of one, the promise of more, if only they weren’t in the middle of a crowd. Mia shifted in his arms, moving her body against his. She found his hard erection and her body softened, moistened.

What was she doing?

“Hot,” she gasped, stumbling out of his embrace. “So hot. I’m sorry. I need some air.”

“Of course.” Vittorio wrapped his arm around her waist and the couples on the dance floor stopped and parted for them. He led her to a French door in a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto a softly lit patio.

Mia rushed over to the waist high railing constructed of rough-hewn stone like the rest of the palace. Darkness had fallen while she’d been inside. Lights from the towns around them sparkled below. Stars in the inky sky twinkled above. Once again she had the feeling of stepping into a fairy tale.

The air was warm, even outside, with barely a breeze to lift the moisture from her skin. She took a few decidedly un-princesslike gulps of air, trying to calm the edgy arousal that burned within her.

“Are you alright?” Vittorio asked. He stepped up to her and the heat from his body didn’t help her at all. “Do you need to sit down? Something cold to drink?”

“I’ll be okay. Just give me a minute. I guess I’m just not used to the climate here.” She was so hot. She began to tug down one of the opera-length gloves. Would it be a serious breach of conduct if she whipped them off and threw them over the railing?

“Allow me,” he said, his voice suddenly a little deeper, a little slower than it had been a moment before. He took her hand in his, stretched out her arm in front of him. He ran his free hand up, starting at the palm of the hand resting in his. Slowly, so slowly, he moved his hand up her arm. There might as well not have been the fabric of the glove between them, she felt his touch so strongly. When his fingers reached the top of the glove, he didn’t immediately begin to remove it. Instead, he teased the bare skin of her upper arm with his fingers. “So soft,” he whispered, holding her gaze. He swept his hand up to her bare shoulders and cupped her neck, skimming his thumb along her collar bone, just above the diamonds Birgitte had trusted her with. “This beautiful necklace is not half as lovely as you,” he murmured.

She couldn’t speak, could only offer a shaky smile in response. He was holding her hand, her throat. Could he feel her trembling beneath his touch?

“But you are hot. It is our weather, no doubt. I can help you with this problem, I think.” Vittorio began to slowly peel the glove from her arm, dragging his fingers along her skin as he did. He focused all his attention on her arm, as if it were the most important thing to him at the moment.

What would it be like to have that single-minded attention focused on her while making love? Even as Vittorio stripped off her glove, her body heated further with the image of his long, powerful frame moving over her, entering her.

Mia imagined he would take command of her body, ensuring that he pleasured her with all the skill he surely possessed. She couldn’t help but wonder if he would look as amazing out of the expensively tailored clothing as he did at this moment. Of course, he would. Everything about Vittorio was first class. He would fit right in with Birgitte. Mia wasn’t close to being in the same league.

Vittorio began to strip off the second glove, giving it every bit as much attention as he had given to the first one. His fingers strummed along her arm as he tugged at the satin. Her newly bared arm hung at her side, her fingers closed into a fist so she didn’t reach out and tangle them in his thick hair.

“Don’t you have breezes in Mezzano?” she asked, her voice rough with desire. She hoped he would think it was the heat that affected her so. He still held one of her hands in his. She lifted the other hand to wave in front of her face, trying to stir the muggy air.

“Ah, my poor
cara
. It
is
still and humid this evening. Be assured we have our share of wind and rain.” The second glove was off now and Vittorio released her hand. How ridiculous it was to feel bereft at the loss of his touch. He folded the gloves and tucked them into the pocket of his jacket.

Mia lifted her heavy hair off her neck to try to cool off for a moment. Maybe she should have worn it up. “I know I should enjoy the warm weather. Right now in Stagatland I would have to be bundled up in a coat and scarf and boots to stand outside.”

Vittorio swept his gaze over her. “And it would truly be a shame to cover the amazing view I have at this moment.”

She let her hair fall down her back. “I suspect you have had a lot of practice with those charming lines,” Mia said, letting the amusement show in her voice. Still, she soaked up the compliment, let the pleasure flow over her like a warm spring rain.

He took her hand, lifted it to his lips. This time the kiss to the back of her bare hand sent fireworks bursting through her system. “It’s only the truth, Birgitte.”

Hearing her cousin’s name fall from Vittorio’s lips was like a handful of snow smacking her in the face. Of course. She had to remember she wasn’t Mia Holmberg tonight. She’d almost forgotten she was playing a part. Still, she lifted a skeptical brow at his words, they were so foreign to those she usually heard.

“You will find that I always speak the truth,” he said. “I despise lies and deception. I have heard and seen too many of them during my years in the palace. Too many people say one thing to my face and another behind my back. I speak only the truth when I say that I am so glad you accepted our invitation to my father’s birthday celebration and that I find you incredibly attractive. I would never lie to you.”

Mia shuddered at his words. She couldn’t let him discover her deception. He would never understand. It was time to put some distance between them, even though her body cried out at the thought. How could she react so strongly to him so quickly? She’d have to excuse herself to go to the ladies and then she’d fade into the background. He’d be so busy with the celebration and his responsibilities that he’d forget all about her.

And that would be a shame. Because she’d never forget him or the incredible way he’d made her feel.

Vittorio sensed the moment Birgitte began to pull back. She hadn’t tugged her hand from his, but she might as well have. Perhaps he’d come on too strongly, too quickly. Just because he’d been looking forward to meeting her didn’t mean she’d be instantly interested in him. Still…he knew she was attracted to him. He’d heard the huskiness in her voice. Felt her arousal in the way her body melted against his.

What had happened to change that?

He was about to ask when his brother, Stefano, stuck his head out the door. “There you are. Come in. Papa is here.” Vittorio nodded. He squeezed Birgitte’s hand. “Come.” She hesitated and he frowned. “What is wrong?”

She took a step back, her hand slipping from his. “You go on ahead,” she said. “I’ll be in shortly.”

He schooled his expression so that his impatience didn’t show. “I don’t have time for this now, but we will talk later.” They had much to discuss. His future, and the future of Mezzano, depended upon it. “Come in soon. I want my father to meet you.”

“Of course.” She reached up to hesitantly touch his face, then quickly drew back her hand. “I won’t leave without giving him my best wishes.”

He cuffed her wrist with his fingers. “You will not leave without speaking with me.”

Her eyes flashed. Her chin lifted. “I will leave when I’m ready.”

He released her wrist, stroked her hand as he let her go. He didn’t want to let her go.

“Birgitte, what is wrong?”

She looked past his shoulder, into the ballroom. “You better go in. They’re waiting for you.”

Vittorio wanted to grab her shoulders, shake her out of this strange, distant mood she was suddenly in. Instead he nodded, turned on his heel and left her behind. If not for her promise to pay her respects to his father, he’d be afraid he’d never see her again.

His father was already settled in the place of honor. The dress uniform he was so proud to wear hung on his thin frame. Vittorio’s heart hurt to see the former general of the Mezzanoan army this way, to see his father becoming weaker with each day that passed. Stefano and their sister, Angelina, were already at his side and Vittorio hurried to join them.

By the time the line of well-wishers thinned out, he could tell the king was growing tired.

Still he smiled and spoke with every single person as if each was the most important one there.

Never the most patient of men, it was something Vittorio hoped to one day emulate.

The person he considered the most important guest here tonight finally approached the throne. Vittorio felt as if it had been hours since he’d last seen her. Days since he’d last held her in his arms. Her platinum hair fell smooth and silky around her face and down her back. The ball gown hugged her body the way he wished to. She was smiling and chatting with the people in the line around her.

Yes. He’d made the right choice. Regardless of her reputation elsewhere, Birgitte was a gracious princess when the situation required it. Tonight proved that. And that was aside from the incredible attraction between them. What could be better for his future?

From his position on the raised platform he focused for a moment or two on the shadow of her cleavage teasing him beneath that beautiful gown. She didn’t threaten to spill out of her neckline like most of the women here tonight. Still, Vittorio thought Birgitte looked lovelier, sexier, than any woman he’d ever known. He ached to have her beneath him, to taste her lips and bury himself in her soft body. He almost groaned out loud. He had to stop thinking about the beautiful princess in his bed until they could be alone.

It was finally her turn. Vittorio stepped down from the dais to take her hand. She smiled but didn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead on his father.