The Prince’s Bride (20 page)

“There, there, now,” she gently said.

Pierre took one look at the compassion in her eyes and steadied himself. “It’s not
fair,” he sobbed again.

Véronique clasped his elbow. “You are quite right about that. Sometimes life is not
fair. Perhaps we can talk about all this in the morning.”

He continued to sway while his foggy gaze perused the others in the room. They were
all staring at him with concern and fear.

“Please show Monsieur Cuvier to his room,” Véronique said to a footman. “Would you
like a hot supper sent up as well?” she asked Pierre directly.

“Yes, that would be very good,” he replied, seeming calmer now as he cooperated at
last, and accompanied the footman out of the dining room.

Nicholas regarded his future wife with admiration, for she had set her prejudices
aside and taken pity on a man who once tried to assault her sister.

Their gazes found each other’s. She lifted her chin. “He was a danger to us, and to
himself, tonight. I hope he can regain his composure.”

“Well done, darling,” her mother said.

Nicholas nodded in agreement. “Yes, well done. Shall we resume our dinner, then?”

Everyone sat down in awkward silence while one footman quickly wiped up the spilled
wine and another brought a fresh glass to the table to replace it.

The plates were cleared away and dessert was ushered in. They were each served chocolate
mousse with raspberry sauce in sparkling crystal cups.

Feeling oddly as if everyone were staring at him, Nicholas looked up from his dessert
to discover that that was not the case at all. Everyone at the table had their eyes
fixed on the chocolate mousse before them. Nevertheless their silence was somehow
thunderous in its intensity.

“How is your dessert, Monsieur Montagne?” Nicholas asked, needing to break the tension.

Véronique’s father looked up. “It’s very good, sir.”

Setting down his spoon, Nicholas decided to fire the first cannon shot across the
field. “Is there something you wish to ask me?”

He was very aware of Véronique clearing her throat.

“About what, sir?” his future father-in-law asked uneasily.

“About what just happened here.”

Are you suddenly rethinking your first impression of me? Do you see now that I am
not the hero you thought I was? Are you worried about your daughter’s future happiness?

Monsieur Montagne also set down his spoon. “Indeed, I am curious about that man’s
emotional state. Clearly he was distraught and … I am sure you are aware that many
of the guests at the funeral today were curious about why d’Entremont left all this
to you. What did Pierre mean when he said that you were as much a bastard as he?”

The temperature in the room seemed to rise. Nicholas picked up his linen napkin and
dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead while his blood pumped heavily in his veins.

Tossing the napkin on the table and tugging at his cravat, he said in a cold and rather
threatening tone, “You have a theory, I suppose.”

His future father-in-law shifted nervously in his chair. “No, sir.”

Véronique also set down her spoon. “This is ridiculous,” she said. “We are all going
to be family soon. Nicholas, may I speak to you in private, please?”

He forced himself to respond courteously. “If you will excuse us,” he said as he rose
from his chair and escorted his betrothed into the sitting room beyond.

She walked to the sofa, sat down, and patted the seat cushion beside her to invite
him closer. He found himself instantly drawn toward her, as if she had all the answers
to every question in the cosmos.

“I could see that you were uneasy,” she said as he sat down. “You haven’t decided
yet what you want people to know, have you?”

He did not answer right away.

“I am sure that Gabrielle can be trusted,” Véronique continued, “but unfortunately
Pierre is a blabbermouth, which may present a bit of a challenge.”

It struck Nicholas suddenly that he was fascinated with her, for she had come to his
aid just now. She had intervened before he was forced to reveal the truth to her father.
As her scent washed over him, he felt the calming effects of her presence in his life.

Nicholas laid his arm along the back of the sofa. “Pierre may be a blabbermouth, but
he is also a drunk with very few respectable friends. No one will believe him over
me, and I trust Bellefontaine and Fournier to keep the secret, at least for now.”

“You’ll probably have to offer them some sort of compensation for their silence.”

Feeling tired all of a sudden, Nicholas ran a hand through his hair. “It won’t be
the first time I’ve had to pay to cover up a scandal. But what about your parents?
Do they not have a right to know the truth about their daughter’s husband?”

“And the bloodline of their future grandchildren,” she added.

The mere mention of children—of Véronique giving birth to sons and daughters—caused
him to stiffen. He thought of his mother suddenly, and the image he had of her in
his mind—of the day they took her body away before he could say good-bye. Why hadn’t
they let him see her? Was it so very bad? Was there a lot of blood? Or had his father
simply wished to punish him for being a reminder of his wife’s extramarital affair?

“I don’t want your father to know,” he found himself saying firmly as he leaned forward
to rest his elbows on his knees. “I don’t want
anyone
to know.”

She touched his arm. “They won’t think any less of you. My parents judge a man by
his actions, not his lineage.”

“They should judge me very poorly, then,” he replied, “for you know my reputation.
Perhaps they are better off believing me to be some sort of mythical knight in shining
armor.” He paused and thought about it. “And the scandal it would evoke in Petersbourg …
God help us all. My brother has been sitting on the throne for less than a year, and
has had to fight tooth and nail against the enemy Royalists, who do not believe our
family deserves the crown. They’ll use anything to create scandals and smear our names.
This could destroy the Sebastian monarchy.”

“Then you must do as you see fit,” Véronique replied. “I will support you in your
decision, whatever it is, but allow me to say that my family would never betray you,
not after all you have done for us. No matter what happens, you will always be a hero
to them. My father will love you like a son, if only you will let him.”

Perhaps, Nicholas realized, this woman was to be the greatest challenge of his life,
for she was almost too perfect. Not only had she turned the tables on him and become
the seducer while he had become the prey, but she was sensible and loving and far
too good for him. How would he ever live up to such standards? He could not go back
to his old ways and treat her shabbily. He did not want to disappoint her family,
not when—for the first time in his life—someone actually thought well of him.

For that reason, he could not reveal himself to the world as the bastard son from
his mother’s adulterous affair.… If he wanted to make a change, that was not a good
way to begin.

Nicholas stood. “Please make my apologies to your family,” he said. “I have business
to attend to, and must bid you all good night.”

“Will we see you tomorrow?” Véronique asked, rising to her feet as well.

“I will be spending the day with Bellefontaine and the solicitor,” he said, “going
over the estate books and records. Surely you will have plenty to do on your own to
prepare for our upcoming nuptials. That is, of course, if you haven’t changed your
mind.”

A part of him
wanted
her to change it.

He wanted to go home to Petersbourg and forget any of this had ever happened.

Another part of him would tear this house apart if he lost her.

“No, I have not changed my mind,” she replied, and he nodded with relief. “I can think
of little else but our wedding night,” she added with a teasing smile, which was meant
to put him at ease, for she understood that his sexual desire for her was the only
thing that felt the least bit familiar to him.

So he did what he knew best. He responded by taking her into his arms and pressing
his mouth to hers. It was a deep kiss that resulted in a return trip to the sofa and
many more moments of kissing, groping, and other sensual pleasures while the rest
of her family finished their desserts.

Véronique’s cheeks were flushed when she returned to the table, and Nicholas was on
fire with lust as he departed from the room.

He knew then that there would be no turning back. He wanted Véronique, he needed her,
and he would have her. All the rest would simply have to fall into place around them.
Somehow, he would do what was required to make their problems disappear.

In that regard, when they woke the following morning, Pierre was long gone—as if he
had vanished into thin air—and Nicholas wondered if God was somehow playing a part
in all of this. Perhaps there was another destiny waiting to be laid out for Nicholas,
now that everything he once knew was no longer his reality.

His world, and his life, had been turned completely upside down, but he still had
no idea which way was up.

Chapter Nineteen

Three days later, Nicholas did the unthinkable. He stood next to a woman at the altar,
slipped a ring on her finger, and declared his devoted love and fidelity until death
parted them.

If not for the imminent pleasures of the marriage bed, he might very well have hesitated
before saying “I do,” but as they spoke their vows, he was overwhelmingly aware of
his desires—further aroused by the scent of Véronique’s perfume, the soft creamy ethereal
glow of her complexion in the colored light streaming in through the stained glass
windows, and the heat of her body next to him.

She was dressed in a simple gown of white silk with antique lace trimmings, and sprinklings
of baby’s breath in her hair. She looked like an angel.

When she entered the chapel on her father’s arm, any thoughts Nicholas had entertained
about changing his mind and bolting back to his home country—and his former life as
a libertine—evaporated like a drop of water under the full glare of the sun. His libido
was pulsing with anticipation throughout the ceremony, and when at last the vicar
pronounced them man and wife, he grew ever more impatient for the sun to set, for
candles to be lit, and for everyone else to bloody well leave them alone for the important
task of consummating their marriage.

If not for the promise of that … he might very well have bolted, because this was
too bloody much for a man like him to comprehend.

*   *   *

The master’s chambers at d’Entremont Manor bore no resemblance whatsoever to the room
where Nicholas had been held captive. That room was in essence a prison cell with
comfortable pillows, luxurious fabrics, and plenty of books.

The marquis’s bedchamber, however, was located at the opposite end of the house, with
breathtaking views of the English Channel as well as the stately oak tree on the hill.

The room was very grand, filled with polished, gleaming mahogany furniture that stood
upon thick crimson carpets. The walls were papered bloodred and adorned with gilt-framed
oil paintings of landscapes and seascapes. Tall white candles in gold-plated candelabras
illuminated every corner.

The bed was cloaked in a red velvet canopy and curtains. It provided privacy and warmth
in the winter months, but since it was summer—and because Nicholas’s body was already
blazing with passion as he led his virgin bride into the room—he expected to be flinging
the windows wide open in short order to let in a cool breeze off the water, lest the
whole room burst into flames.

“Clearly this is the finest room in the house,” Véronique said as she followed him
inside. “Yours now to enjoy.”

Her green eyes met his in the flickering glow of the candlelight, and he found himself
enraptured by thoughts of what they would enjoy here together in the coming hours.

“Yes, it is the finest room,” he casually replied, “now that
you
are here.”

Their eyes met once more with a shared look of desire, their pent-up urges screaming
for release.

“I suppose this is rather profound,” she said, “for not long ago, Lord d’Entremont
had taken possession of my home and everything I held dear. Now I have taken possession
of
his
home, so to speak, for I am now mistress here.”

“Yes,” Nicholas replied, moving closer. “All that I possess is now yours. Would you
like to explore the bed? I am sure you will find it more than adequate to meet your
needs.”

“
Our
needs,” she countered with a mischievous grin that sent a shiver of lust through
his body.

For a moment he stood before her and drank in the intoxicating essence of her beauty
and innocence in the firelight—knowing that after tonight, he would forever be the
possessor of her virginity.

Aroused by that thought, he turned her around and slowly began to unhook her gown,
until it fell loose over the creamy curve of her shoulders.

He kissed the back of her neck and felt her body tremble beneath his touch. “Are you
afraid?” he whispered.

She tilted her head back. “No.”

Slowly, he undressed her, piece by piece, letting each article fall to the floor in
heaps of light fabric, until she stood naked before him, as radiant as a burst of
firelight before his eyes.

He folded her into his arms and held her for a rapturous moment before covering her
mouth with a deep open kiss that blazed through his senses and thrust him into this
marriage with the full force of a cavalry charge.

He had been waiting too long for this. The need to feed his hunger for her was immense.
Perhaps he should have moved more slowly, for it was her first time, but his desires
were out of control. He simply had to have her, and could not wait another moment.