Gaelen Foley - Ascension 02

by Princess

  She obeyed, squeezing his glorious shoulders. He was unaccustomed to the Italian climate, his skin covered in a fine sweat.

  He was silent for a long moment, sprawled in the chair while, out the window, the sun began to set over the distant hills.

  “You are considering it?” she probed.

  “Perhaps I could be persuaded.” His steely fingers clasped around her wrist as he pulled her hand down to his groin.

  He was fully erect, and in spite of herself, she was impressed.

  “Persuade me, Julia,” he whispered, eyes closed. “You know what to do.”

  Bare-chested, Darius sat alone in his suite at his dressing table, using the mirror as he tried to repair the damage to the stitches he had pulled. Serafina’s careful handiwork had held him together until he had begun to heal, but now he was bleeding again.

  His door barricaded against the harpies pleading to be let in, Darius glanced over when he heard a familiar male voice join in their midst.

  “Why, here is camped the fairest army ever seen! Ladies, my loves, if you attack me for a change, unlike certain Spaniards, I swear I will surrender.”

  Darius rolled his eyes. Prince Charming was at it again. He could just picture the tanned, handsome youth swaggering into their midst. He heard peals of feminine laughter and barely dared imagine what the young Romeo was doing with the women out there.

  “Run along, ladies, go put on your ball gowns, for I expect each and every one of you to dance with me tonight.”

  They whined at Prince Rafael to order Darius to open his door and let them in, but he deflected them with his irresistible, inborn charm. “Now, now, clear out, my lovelies. I must have a private word with our prizefighter, man to man.”

  An alarming thought struck Darius. What if Rafe had deduced the truth of his affair with Serafina? Good Lord, what if the little coxcomb had come to call him out? Dueling was the boy’s new hobby.

  His knock fell on the door. “Hey-ho, Santiago. Lemme in.”

  Warily, Darius rose and unlocked the door, admitting the crown prince. Leaving the door open, he walked away. The young man sauntered into the suite, shutting the door behind him.

  “What are you doing, sitting here in the dark? Lord, Santiago, sometimes I swear you are part gargoyle.” Rafael had a large scroll tucked under one arm. He threw it on the desk and picked up the single candle there which Darius had lit. He carried it around the room lighting the wall sconces. “I hate to be the bringer of bad news, Santiago, but I’m afraid you are disinvited to Tyurinov’s welcome ball tonight.”

  Darius laughed wearily. “A reprieve.”

  “How novel, too, to find Father grumbling about you, and myself in his good graces. He wants to see you.”

  Darius sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Yes, I imagine he does.” Elbow propped on the dressing table, he rested his head in his hand and stared gloomily at the floor.

  A moment later, he saw Rafe’s boots as the lad returned to stand before him, hands on hips. The prince’s excellent black boots and tan breeches were flecked with mud, he noticed. “Where have you been, playing in a pigsty?” Darius asked, looking up at him.

  Rafe flashed a rakish grin, revealing the dashing cleft in his chin. “Working on my maps. For Father’s birthday,” he added by way of explanation.

  Darius nodded, recalling what Serafina had said about her brother mapping the underground tunnels. “An ambitious project.”

  Rafe drifted across the room and flung himself down into a brocaded armchair. “Not as ambitious as smashing Tyurinov a facer.” He began laughing as he slipped an elegant hunting flask out of his waistcoat. “What on earth did you do that for?”

  Darius heaved a sigh, raking his hand through his hair in distress. “I don’t know. I cannot think what came over me.”

  The boy took a swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t you?” he said matter-of-factly. For a moment, his penetrating gaze reminded Darius exactly of Lazar’s, though Rafael had more his mother’s coloring. Darius returned his gaze dully.

  “He was bullying my sister, was he not?”

  “So it appeared to me. God knows it was the last thing I expected to walk in and find.”

  Darius had already had a full day by the moment he had walked into the hall to find Tyurinov playing his intimidation games on Serafina. He had spent the morning interviewing a small, elite group of officers, seeking a replacement for Orsini to the post of captain of the Royal Guard, then he had overseen matters as young Cara was deported, sending her off to seek asylum with the French government.

  This done, he had gone into town to send off his lengthy report to Czar Alexander, putting in place the last cogs and wheels of his subtle design, then visited his solicitor for the purpose of setting his final affairs in order, including a change to his will.

  For sheer, wretched sentimentality, he had purchased the yellow villa from the government and had left it in his will to Serafina. He wanted to give it to her so she would always have a peaceful retreat where she could get away from the shallow, parasitical people of the court, and to remember him and the few, precious days they had shared there.

  “She doesn’t want him, you know,” the youth said flatly, bringing him back to the present. “She’s hiding it from Father and everyone. It’s a disgrace! Why should one poor girl be forced to protect the lot of us? What of honor? We are men, aren’t we?” He suddenly jumped up and began pacing.

  “What do you suggest?”

  Rafe clenched a fist. “I say we fight! If Napoleon thinks he can take us, let him try! She’s my sister, I’ll protect her! You’ll help!”

  “Ah, youth,” Darius muttered cynically, turning away.

  “You think it can’t be done?” he demanded.

  “We are sorely outnumbered, and besides, my fine hothead, we wouldn’t even know where they would attack, which shore to defend,” he said heavily. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “That only means you already have something up your sleeve. Well, I damned well hope you do.” Rafael gave a well-bred snort, pacing back and forth across the room. “Sometimes I think the only reason Father is so bent on avoiding a war at all costs is because he’s afraid I’ll set one foot on a battlefield and instantly be blown to smithereens. Maybe if I didn’t have the great Santiago outshining me at every turn, he would see I am not an utter imbecile,” he said with a rueful grin.

  Darius winced. “Don’t say that. You are his son. His heir.”

  “Well, you’re his protégé. Mere mortals like me will never quite measure up in his eyes.”

  Darius dropped his chin, realizing this was probably the last time he would see the boy who had been like a baby brother to him. “I know he’s hard on you, Raffaele, but it is because he cares for you.”

  “Do you think he’ll ever listen to me and trust my judgment the way he trusts yours?”

  Darius lifted his shoulders, at a loss. “I merely have more experience than you.”

  “Well, I’m never going to get any experience to prove myself, because I’m never allowed to do anything. All he does is criticize me. Nothing I do is good enough, so you know what? I give up. The hell with it. There’s no pleasing the man. Until he turns up his toes and it’s my turn to rule, I’m just going to have my fun.”

  Darius stared at him, appalled.

  Rafe glanced at him, blanching guiltily at his shocked, accusing gaze. “What?” he muttered.

  “How can you say that? That man thinks the sun shines for you,” he said angrily. “You think he’s hard on you? You should have known my father. You wouldn’t have lasted a day.”

  “Easy, Santiago. Jesus,” the youth said with an uneasy laugh as he leaned against the windowsill and looked out at the view of the distant sea. “You’ll be punching my face in next.”

  Just then, the door clicked and Darius tensed again, looking over. Julia Calazzi peeked into the room. “Hellooo?”

  Darius shot a scowl at t
he prince. “You forgot to lock the door.”

  Julia sent him a flushed, almost girlish smile and slipped into the room. She shut the door behind her and came toward him with her sinuous, hip-swinging walk.

  Rafe watched her pass, his gold-green eyes traveling slowly over her figure. He let out a low, admiring whistle. “There she is, the lady of my dreams.”

  “Go away, I want to talk to Santiago,” she said to him as she smoothed her upswept hair.

  “Why don’t you ever visit me? I tell her daily that I am in love with her, but she won’t listen, Santiago. Any advice?”

  “Watch your back,” Darius said prosaically.

  Julia gave him a haughty, pointed look. “Indeed?”

  Rafe shoved away from the windowsill, sneaked up behind her, and captured her by the waist. Darius looked on in mild amusement as the lad hauled her against him with a cubbish growl. “Come on, Jules, give me a go. What do you say?”

  Julia gave him a dirty look over her shoulder. “I’m too old for you. Go find a girl your own age.”

  He grinned at Darius from over her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Be a sport, Jules. I’ll show you the time of your life.”

  “You’re a royal pest, you are!”

  Darius smirked at her rare discomfiture.

  Julia elbowed him harmlessly in the chest. “Go away! I came here to talk to Santiago!”

  The prince whispered something probably lewd into her ear.

  She stamped her foot. “Santiago! Tell him to stop!”

  “Stop,” Darius said dryly.

  “Well! I dare not tangle with the prizefighter. Your virtue is safe, my lovely. For now,” the prince added, eyes laughing. “But when you need a young man with some stamina, you know where to find me.”

  Julia squeaked when Rafael pinched her backside, drifting casually by her. He went to the door, picking up his scrolled map off the desk as he passed. “Ciao,” he said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He closed the door behind him.

  Darius wished he had not gone.

  Julia turned to him, looking almost flustered. “He is an abhorrent youth.”

  Darius reached for his shirt, draped over a nearby chair. He slipped it on. “You loved every minute of it.”

  “Well,” she conceded, glancing toward the door, “the notion of educating him holds a certain appeal. After all, he will be king one day.”

  He gave her a stern look as he tucked his shirt in.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve obeyed your standing order. I will not corrupt him. He is safe.” She slid Darius a look askance. “I’ve got bigger game to hunt.”

  He folded his arms over his chest and regarded her skeptically.

  Julia sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. “I could have told you about Orsini. It upsets me to know you were in a dangerous situation when I could have forewarned you.” She hesitated. “I acted badly the other night. I shouldn’t have struck you.”

  He said nothing and waited for her to go away.

  “Shortly after I left you that night,” she continued, “I realized who it was you had in the room with you.”

  His gaze homed in on her with sudden fierceness.

  “I recognized her voice.”

  He stared at her, bristling.

  “I realize I overreacted,” she went on in awkward contrition. “Obviously, you would never fool with the king’s daughter. I know she has always had a mad crush on you and of course she’s stunning,” she said acidly, “but as you’ve told me a hundred times, she is like a little sister to you.”

  “Could you get to the point?”

  She turned to face him, palms upward. “I’m trying to apologize. With all these spies you’ve uncovered, and what with the Russians’ arrival, I understand now that you were in the middle of matters involving your work—”

  “What do you want, Julia?”

  At his curt interruption, she lowered her head and folded her hands behind her back. “You are angry.”

  “No, I am merely sick of games.”

  “So am I,” she said emphatically. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Santiago . . . Darius,” she corrected herself more softly. “I want you to think about the future—and me.”

  He refrained from rolling his eyes. “You were widowed less than six months ago.”

  “Do you think I have any reputation left to lose if I don’t observe the proper mourning period?” she said with deep, world-weary bitterness.

  “Julia,” he began gently, “it would never work. Put it out of your mind.”

  “I know this comes as a surprise,” she protested. “You need time to think it over—”

  “No, I don’t,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  As she assessed him for a moment, he couldn’t fail to see the vulnerability and creeping onset of despair in her carefully made-up eyes. In them, he read her fear of the future when her beauty had faded. Perhaps she had begun to see that one day she would be left alone with the bitter fruit of all the foolish choices she had made.

  “We were good together. I think you and I could learn to love each other, Santiago.”

  “Julia, Julia,” he sighed as he took her by both shoulders and pressed a brotherly kiss to her forehead.

  She lifted a gaze full of bottomless need to his. “Try with me,” she whispered. “I think I could make you happy.”

  “Face the truth,” he said, staring steadily down at her. “You used me and I used you. That’s all it ever was. That is all we were capable of together. Look at us, two hardened, battered souls. You’ll find someone, Julia.”

  “I already have,” she replied.

  He merely shook his head and released her. “I think it would be best if you go now.” He started toward the door to open it for her and see her out.

  But she did not follow. To his perplexity, Julia began laughing.

  “You arrogant fool,” she spat in a tone of pure poison. “Do you think I don’t see what’s going on?”

  He looked over his shoulder, one brow arched in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

  She folded her arms tightly over her chest, tears in her eyes. “Tell me, did you give it to her nice and slow when you were out in the country, rusticating?”

  Darius froze. He pivoted and walked back to her, heart pounding. “How dare you?”

  The tears had vanished. She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Hmm, I wonder what the king would have to say if he knew.”

  “Knew what?” he snarled.

  She considered for a moment, her eyes calculating. Smoothly, she switched tactics. “I heard what happened last night with Teresa.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Precisely. When I heard you wouldn’t let Teresa stay with you last night, it confirmed what I’ve suspected all along. You poor, pathetic fool,” she added bitterly. “Don’t try to deny it. I know you’ve been panting after that girl since she was barely sixteen.”

  He paused for a long moment, trying to decide how to dodge this. It didn’t appear that he could. “If you slander her, Julia,” he said abruptly, “I will finish you. No jest.”

  “You can never have her, you know,” she flung out. “She will never understand you as I do. She couldn’t begin to handle the hate you’ve got inside you!”

  He ignored her words. “What are you going to do?”

  She laughed, gloating. “Excuse me, but this is just so amusing. I have finally discovered your weakness. I always knew you had one somewhere, hidden away—but the king’s daughter? Ah, well, you always had a taste for the forbidden. It seems I have you right where I want you, doesn’t it?”

  He glared at her, trembling with anger. “What do you want?”

  “You, darling,” she replied. “I want you. You say I don’t know what love is? I do. I’ve wanted you for years. Now, finally, I am free, and if I can’t have you,” she said coolly, “I’m going to destroy you.”

  He felt as though he had been punched very hard in the stomach. “How?”
>
  “I’m going to tell the king that you seduced daddy’s little precious.”

  “But she is pure,” he cried. “You have no proof.”

  “Don’t need it. I know you, Santiago. You won’t lie to the king’s face. Your eyes give you away.”

  “What is it, the money you’re after?” he asked in fury. “The title?”

  “They do add to your appeal. But it’s you I want.”

  “Why would you want me when I don’t want you? I’m never going to love you.”

  She merely smiled at his ire, but he felt her rage beneath her cool facade. “Let’s just say it comforts me to know you’re as thorough a slut as I am.”

  He stared at her, hurt by her words and bewildered.

  “I’m giving you three days. At that time, you will either get down on your knees and propose to me, or prepare to be exposed for the fraud you are.”

  She lifted up on tiptoe, trying to kiss his cheek. He recoiled from her. She stepped back with a smirk, then prowled to the door.

  “Think it over,” she advised him. “You need me more than you know.”

  She left.

  Darius raked a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath as he struggled for calm.

  Nothing could come of Julia’s threats, he assured himself, for he would be dead in a few days. The thought was hardly comforting. It filled him suddenly with the desperate need to see Serafina’s artless smile and innocent, violet eyes. His whole body hurt with missing her, as if a part of himself had been torn away from him.

  Standing alone in his room, he quivered in pain. He closed his eyes tightly and drove the heels of his hands into them, his mind filled with the memory of kissing the curve of her back, the taste of her silken skin under his lips. He felt his whole world hanging by a thread over some vast abyss, and thought, no, he could not go to her now. One look into her eyes would make it impossible for him to leave and to do what he must.

  Forcing the pain from him as though throwing off an enemy, he went to his bed and dragged out the long, black case stowed underneath it. He collected his other weapons, took out a leather satchel, and began packing.

  After a facial mud-mask, a bath in five gallons of milk, followed by one in tepid water which had been carefully perfumed, Serafina lounged on the divan in her sitting room while her lady’s maid briskly filed and buffed her nails and her hairdresser trimmed the dried ends off her hair.