Inconceivable! (20 page)

“Thank you. And to whom do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, feigning a formal tone.

“I’m Count Gerhard Hohenstaufen, John’s cousin. And you’re Hatty Brunelle.”
Count Whose-it?

He kissed the back of my hand softly, making me forget momentarily about Claire and my urgent need to find John.

“Has anyone shown you the gardens?”

“Not yet.”

“May I?” He took my hand again and started to lead me away.

“Wait! I need to put my shoes on.” I felt like a total hick.

“Please.” He gestured for me to sit down.

My tight dress allowed me only to sit on the very edge. Gerhard knelt in front of me, retrieved one of my pumps, and then cradled my bare foot in his hand. I watched as the German count slid on the shoe in a smooth, adept motion. Maybe he did do this kind of thing often.
Rawr.
He lifted my other foot, cupping it in his large, warm hand. Just as his fingers lightly caressed the bottom of my toes, someone close by cleared their throat.

I nearly fell out of the chair when I saw John standing over us.

“Gerhard. You’ve found my lady in distress. Thank you for helping her. I can take over from here.” John bent down and took my foot from Gerhard. That sexy line just above his jaw bone pulsed, signaling a flash of anger.

The count stood and pulled down on the ends of his jacket. “Your lady was indeed in distress. I was going to show her the gardens since you left her all alone.”

“Thank you, Count, for your help,” I said, sensing trouble brewing between these two cousins. I wanted to avert any arguments.

“
Adieu
, my dear.” The count backed away, maintaining eye contact with me a second too long to be polite. It was an invitation, and I flinched.

John smiled up at me. “I’m sorry I left you with Pru long enough for the wolves to circle. Pru gets bored easily, and Gerhard can’t resist a beautiful woman.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. “I have to tell you something. I met Claire. She said she’d spoken to you and you guys had several drinks. Is that right?”

John stood and walked away. How dare he! I caught up with him and grabbed his arm.

He looked straight ahead as he spoke. “I know we already have trust issues, but I confess: I knew she’d be here. She and Pru are friends. I didn’t tell you because I thought you might not come, or you’d worry unnecessarily.”

Walking through the crowd, we tried to look like we weren’t having a serious conversation. Given the setting, there was no way we could have it out.

I tried a different approach. “It’s fine. So, tell me more about your cousin, the count.”

“Gerhard? He’s one of Germany’s most notorious philanderers.”

“He’s certainly very skilled at helping women get what they need.”

“I’m just glad I intercepted you when I did. Were you really going to the gardens with him?”

“Is ‘going to the gardens’ some kind of euphemism?”

John laughed. “Here it is. If you’d gone with him, he’d be caressing a lot more than your toes right now.”

“And how would that make you feel?”

“I’d simply have to defend your honor,” he said as we stepped through a doorway into the cool air. So much for unseasonably warm.

We walked around the end of the palace. I saw a wide terraced garden with a lighted fountain at the bottom of a long staircase.

I slipped off my heels. Again.

“What are you doing?” John asked.

“Catch me.” I took off running down the stairs.

The hard, cold pavement smacked my feet, which only made me move faster. John’s footsteps pounded behind me. What was I thinking? He plays rugby. He’d overtake me in a matter of seconds.

I darted off the stairs and onto one of the terrace ledges. It was wide, so I wasn’t afraid of tumbling over the edge. As I approached the dead end, I scrambled in search of an escape route. A hand grabbed me and tugged at my dress. Something gave way and my dress slipped down to my waist.

I stopped and covered my bare chest. “Oh God!” I said. Cold air teased my breasts.

John’s hands were on my sides, and he spun me around facing him. He pressed his lips to mine and his hands pulled at my arms, which were still wrapped across my chest. I halfheartedly tried to resist and he yanked harder. He kissed my neck, forcing me to lean backward as I struggled to stay covered. Exposing myself outside in the middle of winter wasn’t my idea of a rocking good time.

My back arched and his arm reached around to support me. He must have known it was an unsustainable position because he lowered me down into the grass and gravel. I saw his face in shadow, partially lit by a small light on the terrace wall by my head. Soft giggles and heavy breathing drifted up to us from a couple of terraces below. You people have a mansion with a thousand bedrooms and you go for a romp in the freezing garden?

John squeezed my shoulders and slid his hands onto my bare back, pressing me into him. We kissed and I tasted alcohol.

“John. Stop. Not like this.”

He drew back instantly. My words echoed the sentiment he’d spoken to me on the couch at Belvoir. He didn’t say anything as he helped me onto my knees, and turned away as I adjusted my dress, moving it back into its proper position.

“Let’s go find your shoes.”

He took my hand and led me back up the stairs. After grabbing my pumps, we walked inside. The staff was gathering the guests for dinner. Tables filled another ballroom on the far end of the palace. I tried to smooth my hair; I suspected we both looked a bit disheveled from our terrace almost-tryst.

“Did you show her the gardens, John?” Pru asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Very funny.” John sounded moody.

Of all the important friends and family at Pru’s party, she included me and John at her table. We laughed and chatted our way through dinner. John drank only water.

After dessert, he kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear: “I’m going with some of the guys to the game room for darts and drinks. I’ll come find you later. Are you okay on your own?”

“Sure. Go have fun.” The prospect of navigating the next couple of hours alone filled me with dread.

“Just promise me you’ll stick with Pru and stay away from Gerhard,” he said, already standing.

“I’ll take care of her, John.” Pru grabbed my hand and patted it.

After dinner, we went back to the ballroom. The overhead lights were off. Strobes flashed and swirled. The madness of a rave replaced the elegance of the ballroom. Some kind of glowing rope snaked along the walls. I didn’t see Claire Léglise the rest of the night.

I discarded my shoes for the third time that evening and danced with Pru and her crew of princesses. Lubed with liquor, they were more human, less cartoonish. They even took off their shoes.

In the middle of dancing, a pair of hands touched my waist. Afraid it might be Gerhard, I tensed my body until I realized it was John. We said goodnight to Pru and left the ballroom. Instead of heading to the entryway, John led me down a hallway lined with doors. He opened one for me, and I walked into a cozy, plain bedroom. “Are we spending the night?”

“Yes. I’ve had too much to drink. I can’t drive to Berlin.” Even when smashed, he remembered the weight of the family’s reputation rested on his shoulders as an heir to the throne.

He slipped out of his shoes and took off his jacket. It was only 11:30 p.m. and I heard the muffled party music still going full swing back in the main ballroom. Our little bedroom had an adjoining bathroom, and John went in without closing the door.
Well, this is a whole new level of openness.

Trying not to hear what he was doing in the bathroom, I distracted myself by opening a bureau drawer. Empty. I don’t know what I expected to find. Maybe a shirt I could sleep in.

John came out and plopped onto the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Claire being here. She loves her family more than she loves me, you know.”

“Sleep,” I said, exasperated by his sloshy lack of self-editing. I unfolded a blanket at the bottom of the bed and placed it over him as he closed his eyes.

I blinked into consciousness, looking at the room and trying to remember where I was. Not at
the
palace, but a palace. Then the memories of the previous night flooded my mind. I turned my head to find I was alone in bed.

I threw back the covers and stood up. There was a knock.

“Come in.”

John cracked the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him.

“I brought you some clothes. I’m really sorry we ended up crashing here.” He walked over to me with a black duffle bag. “Good morning.” He kissed me softly on the lips. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“I bet it looks like I slept on a weed-eater.” My hands assessed my tousled hair. Über messy. I opened the bag and found a sweatshirt and shorts. “I’m dying to get out of this dress.” I reached around back for the zipper.

“Here let me.” John stood behind me and slowly pulled the zipper down, causing the front of my dress to collapse to my waist as it had done the previous night on the terrace. I turned around to face John, amazed at myself for being both bold and vulnerable.

“You wanted to see this part of me last night. It’s better in the light of day with both of us sober, don’t you think? Since I now know what Claire looks like in person, you need to see me for who I am. I don’t look like her. It’s not even a contest.”

John’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open slightly. He blinked hard once before pulling me close to his chest and kissing me. My bare skin produced goose bumps in response to the gentle friction from the soft, thin fabric of his dress shirt. I began unbuttoning it.

“Hatty, you’re beautiful. You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses. His hand cupped the bottom of my right breast. His thumb grazed my nipple, and I sucked in a quick, rough gulp of air. He ran his tongue down my neck, and moved toward my chest. Then, he stopped. Just like that. He turned and reached into the duffle bag.

“Let’s get you dressed so we can say goodbye to Pru.” He held up the sweatshirt, covering my chest.

“Does that mean you don’t want to have your way with me?”

He took my hand and placed it on the front of his pants. “It means I do, but I’m going to stop myself.” He pulled my hand away. “Do you mind getting dressed in the bathroom so I can cool down? I can’t walk out there like this.”

He sat down on the bed and took out his phone. I headed for the bathroom, stopping once to glance back at him; he was watching me.

“If you don’t get dressed, it’s going to take a lot more than boring emails to take my mind off your amazing body.”

His words, the look of longing in his eyes, and the way he’d touched me moments earlier went a long way toward squashing the fresh insecurities that meeting Claire had spawned.

ushing up my sleeves, I thrust my just-washed hands into the flour, sugar, egg, and butter mixture. I was eager for John to taste chocolate chip cookies made from my mom’s recipe.