Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss (17 page)

“You don’t
mind playing with his highness, do you?”

“Not a bit.
And I’ll keep him good n’ safe. We’ll stay off the roof and everything.”

She laughed.
“I shall entrust him to you, then. Let me know if you need anything to see to
his entertainment.”

Bianca made
her way back to the edge of the dance floor, but Fain and Vivienne were no
longer there. They had returned to the dance floor to waltz blissfully around,
and Bianca sighed, watching their happy faces. Then she sighed again, because
she saw Lord Scemo—perfectly elegant in his perfect evening coat—headed towards
her.

“Your
highness, may I have the honor of this dance?”

Bianca
couldn’t think of a single good reason to deny him, so she smiled and held out
her hand. He swept her onto the floor, drawing her almost too close for good
manners. Bianca kept her smile plastered on her face, but felt a surge of
irritation. What sort of idiot thought that this was the way to woo a woman?
Scemo showed no inclination to converse; he just stared down at her with what
she could only assume he thought were seductive eyes. Desperately she groped
for some sort of small talk.

“How are you
settling in to your suite, Lord Scemo?”

“Well
enough. It has a lovely view of the gardens. There’s a hedge maze that looks
like a marvelously secluded place to walk. Perhaps you might join me for a
stroll, later.”

Bianca was
sure she was confused. He couldn’t possibly be propositioning her. That would
be… Would be…

Would be
almost as inappropriate as him sliding his hand down from her waist, to cup her
backside. Which he was currently doing.

She pushed
away from him, unwilling to allow him to grope her on the dance floor, even in
the name of diplomacy. She was sure her anger must be clear to read on her
face, but he only gave her a lazy smile, and offered a parting shot. “Let me
know if you change your mind.” Then he left, abandoning her in the midst of the
dancers.

Of all the
insufferable, rude, conceited dolts! Bianca allowed her mind to find further
adjectives as she wound her way off the floor, avoiding the still-waltzing
couples. She headed straight for the refreshment table, determined to avoid any
more dancing until her temper cooled.

She had just
found the chocolates when she heard a dreamy voice at her elbow.

“Try the
little coconut ones. They’re very good.”

Prince
Grantig used the fork he held, currently spearing a small meatball, to indicate
the truffle he meant. Bianca popped one in her mouth and discovered he was
right.

“Do you
enjoy chocolate, Prince Grantig?”

“Call me
Tig. Everyone does.” Bianca thought about giving him permission to use her name
in return, but she highly doubted he required it. “I enjoy everything. Life. It’s
beautiful, don’t you think?”

She smiled
at his phrasing, but answered the question honestly. “I do.”

“Me, too. I
told my father that, when he sent me here. That life is beautiful, and war is
ugly.” Tig seemed to lose track of his thought, but Bianca followed it anyway.

“Do you mean
you disapprove of the coming war?”

“Don’t you?”

“I suppose I
do.” Bianca thought as she spoke. “But I’m not sure there’s an alternative.”

“Maybe,
highness. Maybe not. I don’t get to decide, though. I’m not a king.”

“But you
want to be, don’t you? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

He shrugged.
“My father said to come.” He sauntered off towards the garden doors. “I go
where the wind blows me.”

Bianca
stared after him, torn between reflection and a fit of the giggles. The giggles
finally won. She could reflect later.

Prince
Anders came up and bowed, giving her the same understanding smile he had
offered earlier. “So, what do you think of Tig?”

“He’s like a
mystic. Or a jester who speaks in nonsense. I can’t decide which. Maybe he’s
both.” She turned and smiled at the prince. “What do you think of him?”

“He seems to
me very much like a child who has grown, but not grown up.”

“Perhaps you’re
right.” She studied her companion. “And what are you like?”

Anders
laughed. “I’m not sure any man is qualified to answer that question about
himself.”

“I see. So
you’re philosophical by nature,” she teased him.

“I suppose I
am. Although, at the moment, I find I am more curious than anything else.”

“About what?”

“I was
wondering if now was a good time to claim a dance?”

She offered
him her hand in answer, and they headed out to the floor. Though couples were
still waltzing, the music had picked up in tempo, and they were sailing around
at high speed. Prince Anders caught her about the waist in a perfectly seemly
embrace, and they fell into the flow of dancers.

Bianca’s
heart raced as they spun across the floor, and she laughed out loud.

“Enjoying
yourself?” Anders smiled down at her.

“I am.”
Bianca could hardly answer, for lack of breath. “But I doubt we’ll get to know
one another better.” She was gasping by the end of even that short speech.

“The
intellectual in me agrees, but the philosopher thinks one can learn a great
deal about a man, by the way he dances.” And with that he drew her closer, and
set their feet flying.

***

Robin wished
himself anywhere, at the far ends of the earth or in the darkest paths through
the mists, rather than in this ballroom, on this night. He had been here all
along, moving among the guests, saying polite words, and keeping just out of
sight of Bianca. He moved as a counter to her, stationing himself where he
could see her, but she would never spot him.

From the
moment she’d entered the ballroom, he’d known the evening would be hard. She
was the picture of loveliness and grace, coming down the grand staircase. Her
face showed none of the panic he knew she felt, none of the fear. It was
hard—so hard—not to stand with the others and greet her triumphal entrance, but
he kept himself in the shadows near the wall through sheer force of will. He
lurked there while she danced with her first suitor, and detested the charming
older gentleman with every fiber of his being. He watched her smile, and flirt,
and saw the hint of blush that graced her cheeks when Edicus bent low over her
wrist, and he wondered if the Dame had ordered him to be here because she hoped
he would lose his temper and punch the lord from Hellas.

He calmed
down, once she went to speak with Cansado. She was so absorbed in the little
prince that he managed to sneak close enough to hear her words, and he was
proud of how she handled the situation. Young Billy would be a good companion
for the boy, and cause him to reflect on his time in Albion with fondness,
while her actions would convey to all of Castillia that she had no intention of
wedding a child still in the nursery. Truly, it was well done.

Lord Scemo’s
manhandling of her made him grind his teeth anew, but he got a great deal of
satisfaction when he saw her push the rake away and stalk off, fuming. He also
saw no harm in Prince Grantig. Bianca clearly found him amusing, and possibly
even pleasant, but he saw no spark between them.

But then she
danced with Anders.

She barely
even spoke to the prince from Dule, but her eyes glowed as they galloped across
the dance floor. A few whispered words caused her to throw her head back and
laugh, a laugh that was free and delighted, maybe even sensual.

Robin told
himself to stay put. He told himself that this was the purpose of the ball, for
Bianca to find a man who delighted her. He told himself that if he were going
to do any foolish thing, it should be to leave, against Dame Merriweather’s
express command.

But when he
saw Prince Anders draw her closer and twirl her across the crowded floor, he
found himself moving forward. He set a path that would intersect theirs, and
stalked across the floor, heedless of the couples that were still dancing
around him. When he saw Anders spin Bianca out to the end of his arm, Robin
seized the opportunity. Wrapping his arm gently about her waist he continued
the spin, breaking the prince’s hold on her hand and sweeping her off into the
crowd.

Bianca
stopped dead and refused to budge. “What are you doing?”

The music
ended with a flourish, and Robin could see Anders making his way towards them.
He turned quickly to Bianca.

“I wanted to
ask for the next dance.”

“And you
couldn’t wait until that dance was over?”

“I felt it
had gone on entirely long enough.”

She gazed up
at him, and Robin felt something loosening in his chest. Something that had
ached for the past three weeks. Something that had made it hard to breathe.

“Your
highness?” The prince had finally drawn near enough to be heard, and the
courteous concern in his voice made Robin want to snarl at him.

Bianca
turned and bestowed a charming smile on him.

“Do forgive
me, Prince Anders.” Robin realized he was grinding his teeth again, and forced
himself to stop. “Master Goodfellow had an urgent message for me, and judged it
worth interrupting our dance. You have my humblest apologies.”

“Think
nothing of it, your highness.” He smiled, and placed a lingering kiss on Bianca’s
palm. “I’m sure we’ll have a chance to speak further, some other time.” He and
Bianca exchanged a look that was far too warm for Robin’s liking, and then he
strode off the dance floor.

The music
was beginning again, something slower this time. Bianca was still looking
thoughtfully after Prince Anders, so Robin cleared his throat.

She looked
back at him. “Yes?”

“Will you
dance with me, Bianca?”

“Oh!” The
simple question brought a pink flush to her cheeks, more than all the
compliments of all the men with whom she’d danced tonight. “I suppose I will.”

Robin took
her in his arms, and once her hand was resting lightly on his shoulder he moved
them out in a slow, rotating step. She settled against him as though she
belonged there. It was an unnerving thought.

“How are you
enjoying the ball?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Well
enough, I suppose.” The pink, which had begun to fade, returned to her cheeks. “Perhaps
a bit more, now.”

Robin
sighed. The answer made his chest glow with a pleasant warmth, while at the
same time making his heart ache anew. “And your suitors?”

She frowned.
“They’re… fine. Unobjectionable. A few are even nice.”

Robin knew
he shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t stop himself. “But?”

“It’s hard
to think of marrying one of them. I don’t love them. Not the way I love—” She
broke off, and Robin felt his heart start pounding. He felt her ribs rise with
a sudden, sharp breath, and saw her eyes fix on his face, open and vulnerable.
They stared at one another, the words she had almost said lingering between
them, until she dropped her chin to one side, pulling her gaze away.

“Not the way
I loved Thomas.” Her whispered words were barely audible, but he could still
hear the lie in them.

Robin
wondered what he was doing. All he could do was hurt her, and he didn’t wish to
hurt her. Did it matter, if she found some of her suitors pleasant? Wouldn’t
that be better? How could he help either of them, by feeding this dangerous connection
between them?

He started
to drop his arms, to let go, to walk away, but Bianca clutched him, suddenly
fierce.

“Oh no you
don’t.” Her tone was grim. “I’ve already been abandoned once on this dance
floor. It isn’t going to happen again.”

“Then let me
escort you back to Vivienne and Fain.” He was desperate to get away, but not
enough to leave her, hurt and angry, in the middle of the waltz.

“No.” She
sounded obstinate. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you tell me what happened,
the night we kissed?”

He thought
furiously. He could tell her. He wouldn’t be breaking the treaty.

Not quite.

Still, he
kept his voice low, and moved them away from the other couples on the floor. It
wouldn’t do to have all the guests of the ball overhear.

“We are all,
every living thing, made up of energy. Do you understand this?”

“I am not
kidding, Robin, I want an answer. Don’t try to put me off with some ridiculous—”

“I am trying
to answer you. Now, do you understand, yes or no?”

“Yes.” She
sounded suspicious, but held her tongue. Well enough.

“The Fae are
more aware of this energy than mortals are. The guiding lights we see, the
magics we perform, our long lives, these are all results of our interaction
with that force. We pass it among ourselves without thinking. That is what
happened that night. We shared our life energy.”

“If you do
it all the time, why did you say it was impossible?”