Prince Charming (25 page)

Gingerly, he rested his hand on her thigh and caressed her comfortingly. “Don’t cry, sugar-sweet,” he murmured. “Everything will be all right.”

She sniffled prettily and eyed him askance, sulking. “I’m not important to you. You don’t care about me.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“You wouldn’t marry her if you loved me!” she said, fresh tears rising to glimmer in her large blue eyes.

“I have a duty to my family and to Ascencion,” he said softly. “You know that. It’s all a matter of bloodlines. I told you that my father was hounding me to choose a wife.”

“But what’s so great about her?”

The pleading insecurity in her big blue eyes took him aback. He knew Chloe had not felt threatened in the slightest by the five princesses in the portraits. But when it came to Daniela, she pouted and lowered her head, a long, graceful swath of golden hair falling forward to veil her rosy cheek. “Are you in love with her, Rafe?”

It was a question he didn’t know how to answer, but he had no desire to reignite her fury. “Sweetheart, I’ve only known her for a few days,” he replied evasively.

She huffed a bit but did not explode. Slowly he exhaled with relief.

His answer felt like a shameful betrayal of Dani and left him feeling even more like a heel, but his adolescent impulses rebelled against the surge of guilt.

Hang it all, society recognized his right as a wealthy male to keep a mistress if he chose. Daniela surely knew that, too. Every man of fashion had a lady on the side. Only the Rock of Ascencion was the model husband, and everyone knew Rafe the Rake wasn’t the man his father was.

“Listen,” he said, caressing her thigh again lightly, “we don’t need to make a decision about each other here and now. Maybe we should think about it for a few days.”

Head down, her sapphire gaze slid askance to his. He saw her calculating what she might be able to get out of him for this.

He continued petting her and spoke soothingly. “You go back to your townhouse and just relax for a few days. Pamper yourself a little and see your friends while I get through this wedding, all right? I’ll come and see you soon.”

“Promise?”

Guiltily, he nodded.

Then she sighed and gave him a melting look. “All right. You know I can deny you nothing. But first…” She slipped her arms around his neck, nuzzling his cheek. “Oh, Rafe,” she breathed into his ear, causing him to shiver, “let’s make love. Right now. I miss you, Rafe. I need you. I never got to give you your birthday present.”

His whole being protested when she kissed him, parting his lips with her tongue. He tensed, too much a gentleman to brush her off, but determined to extricate himself from her clutches without rousing another temper tantrum or more tears.

She sighed, ending the kiss, then lay back against the couch’s cushions, toying with the ribbons on her dress, frisky invitation in her eyes. “Play with me, Rafie.”

Shaking himself out of a stare, he forced a smile of regret. “You could tempt a saint, sugar-sweet. Unfortunately, I’m scheduled for a couple more meetings this afternoon.” He glanced at the clock, but didn’t deign to tell her that the promise he’d made was to escort Dani to the docks to say goodbye to the Gabbiano brothers. He was already late.

“We’ll be quick.”

“
Cherie,
there are some pleasures I refuse to rush,” he whispered.

“You incorrigible charmer, I think you are just putting me off.” She gazed at him with wistful adoration in her eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Rafe.”

He stared at her, realizing that he wasn’t all that hurt…which was just another proof, perhaps, that he had known better from the start than to let himself truly care about the spoiled, cosseted beauty.

Perhaps he had chosen her deliberately because she posed no threat to his defenses, unlike certain redheads of his acquaintance. For the life of him, he could not imagine Dani ever saying deliberately cruel things to anyone. The thought brought another severe wave of self-disappointment washing through him and filled him with the need to get away from his mistress at once.

Suavely bending to kiss her hand, he took his leave of Chloe and left the salon.

Late, damn it,
he thought, hurrying down the marbled hall. That was all he needed—for his bride to hate him, too.

A short while later, he stood apart from her and her lowly devotees on the wooden docks, tapping his riding crop against his boot, irritated and impatient with the long hug she was giving that dullard giant whom she called Rocco.

Dani’s cool, distant courtesy toward him when he had arrived to take her down to the port to say goodbye to her precious Gabbiano brothers had told him, loud and clear, that she knew he had met in private with Chloe. She did not speak a word about it, however, merely giving him the cold shoulder.

He didn’t even have the heart to try to charm his way back into her good graces, he merely bore her silent rancor glumly. With every passing moment, he grew angrier at himself for not having had the mettle to break it off with Chloe. His bride looked utterly lovely in her new cerulean-blue walking gown, he thought, gazing longingly at her. She had on a charming bonnet with a couple of the pink roses he’d sent pinned to the brim, and her short gloves were white.

Next, she hugged the bespectacled middle brother, then bent down and hugged the freckled child Gianni for quite a long time. After him, she embraced their widowed mother, who had chosen to go with the boys.

Watching their tearful goodbyes made him feel like an ogre for sentencing them to this. He pulled his candy tin out of his pocket and took a peppermint, sucking it as he sulked. If nothing else, it kept his mouth busy to prevent him from shouting out,
All right, all right, they can stay!

His merciful impulse was promptly quashed, however, when his wife-to-be released the child and turned to her lifelong devotee, the noble Signore Mateo.

Rafe narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the pair together, searching for signs of a more-than-friendly affection. Daniela took Mateo’s arm and together they turned away, walking to the edge of the dock, apparently deep in some urgent conversation.

Rafe’s temples throbbed. Then he noticed the little scamp Gianni grinning at him, and scowled as the child waved. He forced himself to pace back toward the coach to wait, shocked down to his glossy bootheels to discover that he hadn’t even married the chit and already he was turning into a jealous husband.

“I need you to do this for me, Mateo,” Dani pleaded, staring up into her friend’s stormy dark eyes. “You’re the only one I can trust.”

“You know I will, but why get involved with these people?” he asked angrily, the wind riffling through his thick curls. “I will come back the moment I can and rescue you.”

“How many years have I been telling you that I can take care of myself?” she whispered, then glanced warily over her shoulder at her royal fiancé. Rafael’s broad back was to her as he stalked toward the coach, the evening sun gilding his dark-gold hair. She turned back to Mateo. “Furthermore, you will not come back here. You know if they catch you here again, you’ll hang! Use your head. Your mother and brothers need you.”

He stared at her sorrowfully, then hung his head. “I failed you. It’s my fault you were caught and now you’re forced to submit to him! It’s a disgrace—”

“I’ll be fine, Mateo. I can hold him at bay until the king and queen return. If you really want to help me, do as I’m asking—go to Florence and learn what you can about this Duke Orlando di Cambio.”

“Why do you want to know about him?”

“He says he wants to help me, and that if I cooperate, my marriage to Rafael can be dissolved when the king and queen come back, but there’s something about him I just don’t trust. He’s as slick as oil and he walks around the palace as if he owns it. Now, will you do this for me or are you going to be a mule?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “You know I’ll do it.”

“Good. But be careful. I don’t know the extent of Orlando’s power in Florence. He seems possibly dangerous.”

“I’ll be glad to spy on him for you—if the prince’s guards will let me out of their sight.”

“Tell them you’re going to look for work,” she suggested.

He nodded his assent.

Inwardly, she blessed her saints, for although half of her purpose was to learn more about the mysterious Orlando, the other half was to give Mateo some useful mission to stop him from attempting to come back and rescue her, in his usual misguided bravery.

“The nobles of Florence ought to know Orlando. You might try talking to their servants. I was able to learn, also, that he owns a shipping enterprise with docks and warehouses at the mouth of the Arno River at Pisa.”

Just then the ship’s bell clanged, summoning him. A few of the Royal Guards approached to escort him to the boat. Dani and Mateo stared at each other in distress.

“Mateo.” She winced. “I’ll miss you.” Overwhelmed with sorrow at the hard goodbye, she moved to embrace him, but he held up his hand, looking away.

“No. If I hold you, I’ll never be able to let you go. Besides, he’d probably blow my head off,” he muttered, jerking a nod toward the land where Rafael waited, pacing, head down.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say.

“For what? Being born a duke’s daughter? That wasn’t your fault.” Clenching his hat in his hands, he squinted toward the horizon. “Go to your prince, Dani, but never forget he doesn’t deserve you any more than I do. I doubt there will be any annulment.”

“Mateo, he’s only using me.”

He gazed at her. “I don’t think so.” With that, he gave her a kiss on the forehead, turned around, and slowly walked up the gangplank, his shoulders squared.

The sailors drew it up after he was aboard, and soon the ship set sail.

Dani was still standing on the docks alone after the frigate had disappeared from sight. She kept her paisley shawl wrapped around her, though the evening air was balmy. She had not felt so alone since childhood.

She heard footfalls nearing her. The docks’ boards creaked as Rafael approached.

She did not turn to him. He came and stood behind her, offering the warmth of his body and a comforting caress on her arms. She would have liked nothing better than to turn in his arms and cry her eyes out, but instead her posture stiffened with the still-fresh wounds from all that Orlando had revealed to her.

Her temporary bridegroom was an amoral cad, but she would not wreck his life for him. Nor would he weaken her, with all his practiced sweetness.

She had never needed anyone. She never would.

Rafael wrapped his arms more snugly around her waist and lowered his chin to her shoulder. “How are you doing?” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” she said in a low, prickly tone, wishing he would not be kind to her.

“They’ll be all right,” he whispered tenderly, giving her a caring squeeze around her waist. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Gathering her composure, she turned around and gazed up into his green-gold eyes, so full of gentle concern as he frowned down at her, his thick, golden eyebrows knit.

“That Mateo…” he said with a taut nod, his jaw slightly clenched, as though he were forcing himself to admit it. “He seems like a good man.”

She stared up at him. He cleared his throat and glanced away, giving his cravat an embarrassed tug. His admission was a final, unsought generosity that she had never expected in a thousand years. It cut straight to her heart, and she hated him for being able to weaken her so.

“Yes,” she forced out in reproach, “he is a prince among men.” She brushed past him and stalked to the coach, shaking. Taking her seat inside the vehicle, she saw him standing where she had left him, looking baffled by her curt reply.

Tilting his head, he sent her a questioning, hurt glance. She dropped her gaze to her lap, her shoulders bunching up defensively. She felt wretched all of a sudden to know she had been mean to him. It was unlike her, but he made her feel so vulnerable, so confused and lost.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, Rafael seemed to shrug off her remark to himself, like a man accustomed to moody women. Furtively, she watched him as he came walking toward her.

He really was the most excellent looking man, she thought bitterly. Her gaze traveled up his muscular legs in dark blue pantaloons to his lean waist and broad shoulders. Peeking from behind her bonnet’s brim at his classical face and gorgeous lips, she could recall exactly the taste of his peppermint kiss.

Her body tensed and she tore her gaze away.

He sat down wearily across from her in the coach and signaled the driver with a knock on the wood. They heard the coachman urge the team. The harnesses jangled and the vehicle rolled into motion.

A tense moment of silence passed between them.

“Is there something bothering you?” His tone was ginger.

She glared out the window. “No.”

“Dani,” he said, gently chiding.

“I want to go home,” she said with a pitiful catch in her voice. She could feel him gazing at her, but she refused to look at him.

“Your home is with me now.”

“It is not!” she burst out. “There are people who are counting on me! I have a duty to take care of them! I haven’t checked in on them in days. I haven’t seen my grandfather or Maria—”

“Dani,” he murmured soothingly. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He took her hands and held them in his own. “You are to be my wife, the crown princess. Your duty is to me now and to Ascencion. I’ve already sent a staff of the best nurses in the kingdom to help Maria with your grandfather.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he needs me!”

“Darling, hush now, everything’s going to be all right. I venture to say this is just a case of prewedding nerves.”

She looked away from his gentle yet troubled gaze, realizing she was being churlish. For some reason—pride, perhaps—she could not bring herself to ask about Chloe Sinclair. Rafael probably didn’t even know he was doing anything wrong; like Orlando had said, he was like a lovable, wayward child. There was no use making the coming days any more unpleasant than they were already going to be.