by Royce, Ruby
Ah! Better! Oh, this must be a magic potion, I feel so light at heart. I don't think I ever had more than two glasses before… I should be interested to see what happens after three or four… Who knows?
Maybe I'm simply going to be a drunkard. Then I can forget everything. Everybody. Especially one everybody. Oh, I wish I could forget him.
I shall, he's going away to Mexico, isn't he?
Gigi told me when she came up in the afternoon to say how sorry she was. Ah, but she can't have known it had not been her I'd really been talking to, it had been him! It was he alone who was to know that I really did not want to get married at all and that I was not an ambitious little schemer! Oh, that shameful moment when he read those silly names in my diary. How silly and stupid he must have thought me! I can't bare it! I'll have to have more wine.
OH NO! I hadn't thought of it before. Does he think I'm in love with him? Because I wrote those names? Does he think I'm an infatuated little girl who puts his name to hers? That's a dreadful idea, but, everything considered, that's what he really must think! When I remember what I said to him even before, how I went on and on, oh help! No. I can't let it stand like that, with my honour at stake!"
Flora staggered out of bed.
When she finally stood upright, shaking slightly, she looked about herself. Somehow the world was not as solid as it used to be.
Why had she been getting up? Right, to talk to the prince.
But where was he? She pondered the question for a while. Then she remembered that the Prince did not live in Palazzo Sforza at all but on the other side of the lake.
She was on the stairs leading down carrying the three-quarters empty whine bottle along.
Could she walk there? No… that was too far, twenty miles at least, she guess. He would have left once she'd got there.
Swimming? He would do that. She could, it came to her, not swim at all as far as she remembered. She could try, of course, it could not be as hard as that? She waddled through the dark corridors and into the drawing room. She opened the french window and stepped out into the park. The moon was shining brightly, a sharp crescent, like a dagger from the orient.
"Hello doggies… pardon me…" Flora said to the watchdogs who wiggled their tails sleepily as she passed them.
She reached the lakefront and considered jumping into the water, when she had a better idea.
"Boat…" she mumbled and swayed towards the landing stage. "Need a boat, yes?"
There were three or four larger barges but also a few smaller rowing boats for individuals. Flora stumbled into the one closest to her. "Ha!" she declared. "Watch out, Francesco Karlsburg, I'm coming!"
She began to row but after a few strokes she realised that she was not advancing. She giggled stupidly. "The rope! Ha! I'm an idiot." She stood up again and, in what could be considered a breathtaking manoeuvre, she freed the boat from the pier.
Flora sat, took the rows into her hands and started out into the night.
"We shall see, huh? We shall see what you think of me, once I'm done with you, Princeypincey!"
She pulled and pulled and pulled. All the while she kept mumbling to herself. Occasionally, she took a sip from the bottle, but after about half an hour it was empty. "Bloody thing…" she swore and threw it into the water.
Fortunately it was a straight line from Palazzo Sforza to the protruding peninsula on which Francesco's residence stood for Flora had no idea how she would have been able to stir the thing.
After an hour of rowing she hit against a stony shore, just underneath a magnificent white baroque caslte. Much to Flora's discomfort, the fresh night air and the exercise had diminished the wine's effect and she was not as courageous as she had been before.
What now?
It turned out that Francesco's watchdogs did not know her and soon they were barking and howling until a few lights came rushing down from the castle towards her. As they approached Flora saw that they were torches carried by soldiers. All of them armed up to the teeth.
They looked quite startled to find a tiny girl in a white nightgown, sitting in a boat and trying to control her facial features.
"Ma Signorina, cosa fa? Chi è? Ha avuto un incidente?"
Flora understood that they wanted to know who she was.
"Flora…" she pointed at herself. "Parlare con il Principe!"
They stared in bafflement.
"Flora Parker. Palazzo Sforza! Surrey! Duca inglese è mio amico! Cugino of the bloody Principe… whatever. My italian is finished here. Get me to the Prince, now will you?"
Fourteen
Castello Maggiore, about 1:30 am
Francesco was instantly awake as he heard the dogs barking. His sleep had been restless anyway since he had delved in and out of unpleasant dreams for several hours.
He lit a candle by the bedside and glanced at a small clock on his bed-side table.
Burglars? Here? He did not believe it. But what had gotten the dogs into such a state?
He heard the soldiers talking amongst each other from somewhere near the shore, but they were too far away for Francesco to make out what they were saying.
A few moments later there was a knock on his door.
"What is it?"
"Signore, signore! C'è una ragazza! There's a girl!" the head-footman's voice sounded through the thick wooden door.
"A what?"
"A girl!"
"Where? What? Open the door so I can hear you properly."
The door opened and the man's head protruded through the opening.
"Signore, there's a girl come in a boat! She says she wants to see you?"
"A girl came in a boat? Who is she?" Francesco, still in bed, sat bolt upright.
"Her name is Flora."
The prince stared at his servant in utter disbelief. "Is this a joke?"
"No! No, Signore, she's in a boat down by the shore! It is true, I swear!" The man nodded emphatically.
"Get out. I'll be right down."
Francesco jumped out of his bed, rushed towards the door, found that he was stark naked and screamed for his valet.
A few minutes later, dressed in black trousers and a white shirt he raced through his garden towards the shore and, like a fairy from a tale, there she sat, in a white nightgown with her dark hair framing her pretty face.
"Via, via! Go away!" he shouted to his soldiers who ran away like scattered geese. It was much darker instantly, but the bright moonlight was enough for him.
"There you are…" she said in a resigned tone but she did not look at him.
"There I am? Flora, are you— ? Of course I am here, I live here, but why are you here?"
She nodded a little to herself.
Then she finally looked up at him with her large eyes, blinked a few times and said "I have to tell you that I don't love you." She nodded some more and pursed her lips.
Her words hurt like a knife, but there was something odd about the way she spoke.
"Flora, are you drunk?"
"Yes, I think I am. I think I am rather drunk."
He sighed. "Flora…"
"You've never called me that before, you know, you've always called me Miss Parker, I think, and Miss Parker I shall remain until the day I die, just so you understand, I don't want to marry you!" She was shivering. The thin material of her nightgown moved against her breasts and he could see the nipples pushing through the cloth.
He was at once so aroused that he forgot all the proprieties. He took hold of her hand and pulled her into a standing position, then he lifted her out of the boat and set her to the ground in front of him.
"I'm being carried a lot recently…" she commented in mid-motion. "By you, by Surrey, everybody seems to want to carry me… It must be because I'm such a lightweight object."
"Yes," the Prince said hoarsly.
She held on to him, obviously not able to stand on her own very well.
Is she that drunk or is she shaking from her little boat trip?
"Yo
u know, I really had to come after today's events," she went on. "I did not want you to think that I was having silly girls' dreams about marrying you."
"I never thought that," he managed to say. He felt her hands on his chest. He wanted to feel them everywhere.
"No? You didn't?" she gazed inquiringly up at him. "That's strange."
There was that perfume again! Lillies of the valley and something else. It was mouthwatering and intoxicating. Francesco had not much patience left in his suffering body, his loins were aching with desire for her.
"We have to go inside," he whispered.
"Oh, do we?" Flora turned away as if she wanted to start out towards the house, but Francesco held her by the shoulders.
"No, actually we don't."
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hotly on the mouth, bearing down on her, releasing the violent craving that had built up in him ever since that fateful night at the opera.
She was at first completely stiff, but it did not last long, only a second later she was melting against him, answering his kiss. A wave of sheer joy rushed through him. She wanted him too!
And so he lay her down in the grass, a few yards away from the shore. Her arms were reaching up around his neck, her fingers were in his hair.
He released her lips for a moment.
"I don't care if you don't love me."
"But I do, I think, at least, I don't know anymore what I'm feeling… ," she breathed. "I just don't want to marry you… I can't marry you! You're a Karlsburg and I'm just a baronet's daughter."
He was above her. Feeling her tender body beneath him, warm and ready. But he had not forgotten her passionate speech in the morning so he thought he should not push her.
"Then be my mistress." He kissed her again. "Come away with me. As my lover. I want you so badly, Flora, it's driving me insane."
"Really? Oh… I think I like that…" she pulled him down towards her.
"So will you come with me, will you love me, without a ring, without a title, and just be my woman?"
She looked at him with those orchid eyes, searchingly, longingly. Then she nodded.
"Yes, I will. Please, make me your woman."
And so he did.
Fifteen
Don't worry, we're still in Francesco's garden
Flora's nightgown was quickly removed. The night air blew gently over her stomach as he pulled it off. Immediately she yearned for his hot body to cover her with its warmth.
She was not drunk on wine anymore, she was drunk on love.
She had expected everything but this. She had expected him to yell at her, or to simply send her back to Palazzo Sforza, but when he had suddenly pulled her towards him, she knew she had been right all along. He had whispered her name at the Scala! He was the man who was always meant for her, he was her mate, what did it matter that he was an imperial prince, she did not have to be his wife, as long as she could be kissed by him, and held by him, she would be happy. Deliriously happy.
They had not spoken anymore. Somehow, everything had been said and both Flora and Francesco, who was just as talkative as she was on a normal day, were completely contented by the each other's presence.
Francesco was kneeling between her legs and he was so glorious before the night sky that her heart skipped a beat and there were tears in her eyes as she watched him undress. From the first time she had seen him, his body had fascinated her, called out to her, engraved itself into her mind. In her imagination she had touched it, stroked it, kissed it and tasted every inch of it. Now, she was finally getting to know how all of this felt for real. She had no qualms at all about giving her innocence to him, he would take good care of her, of that she was sure. Her fingers reached up and the tips softly caressed the muscles just above his belt. He opened it and his trousers fell down.
Flora saw for the very first time what she had read and wondered so much about in her most private musings. An aroused man.
He lowered himself and for a while they simply kissed. But there was a new urge in his kisses and she herself felt the need for more closeness, for a deeper joining.
He began to kiss her neck, then her breasts and her stomach. Settling back a few inches, he kissed the inside of her thigh and from there, he was moving slowly upwards.
Soon, his mouth was covering her core and his tongue split the soft folds of flesh apart, playing around, suckling on her, licking her, while his hands were resting warmly on her belly.
She had to let her head fall back into the grass and close her eyes, so overwhelming were the showers of pleasure that overcame her.
After a while he moved up again, caressing her firm, round breasts and finally their mouths met anew. His hands, she noticed, had started to lift up her legs and much to her excitement, for the first time, the tip of his manliness pushed against her own sex. Anticipation rushed through her forcefully. She was breathing heavily, trying to control her heartbeat, that threatened to run away with her.
Still kissing her, Francesco positioned himself higher, brought her legs with him and slowly, almost agonisingly so, the long, hard shaft moved into her.
He stopped kissing her and looked at her intently, almost questioningly. She was about to say something when a sharp pain went through her loins and she softly cried out, burying her fingers in his back and her face against his chest.
He waited a little, still appraising her from above, obviously expecting her to signal him whether to stop or to continue.
The muscles inside of her relaxed and the pain gradually ceased.
He pushed again and Flora groaned as his fullness entered her completely. She uttered a guttural sound and so did he.
His pelvis made slow, gentle movements that translated directly to the highly sensitive nerves of her femininity. The feel of him so deep inside was beyond anything Flora could have ever imagined and the intensity began to grow the more he moved. All the time, her hands were on the small of his back, enjoying the motions of the muscles under his skin.
He was moaning softly with every move he made and not even the angels singing in heaven could have made a more beautiful music to Flora's ears. He was so magnificent, the way the veins showed at his neck, with his shoulders glistening in the moonlight, and his smell, his hair… she wanted to explode with gladness.
All of a sudden, without warning, he pulled out of her and got back onto his knees. What had happened?
But she did not need worry for long because he pulled her up against himself, onto his lap, and he was back inside of her. She wrapped her legs around him instinctively and he went in even deeper than before.
And now she understood why he had wanted to change their position. Their faces were almost the same level and he could kiss her while their bodies were so deeply linked. She also found that she could move against him and hold on to him much easier this way.
His arm went around her hips and he lifted and lowered her, until she was moaning loudly, helplessly, not caring anymore about the outside world, not about the moon, not about the stars, only about his body and what he did to her with it.
She heard him sigh her name against her mouth, before he fiercely claimed it once more.
Suddenly she needed air.
She threw back her head and cried out, when an impact of pleasure, so strong she thought it would throw her to the ground, hit her. There was nothing she could do but lean forward against his shoulder, whimpering and gasping desperately.
When it had passed, she lifted her head and somehow her mind felt clearer.
Francesco was still breathing heavily, still moving forcefully.
Without pulling out of her this time, he laid her back onto the ground.
She knew that what had just happened to her would still have to happen to him and it still felt so wonderful the way his manhood went back and forth in long and rhythmic strides. She was swiftly losing the clarity she had gathered shortly after her climax.
He moaned with every move, then he stopped and a shudder w
ent through him, he closed his eyes, made two more strong strokes, shuddered again and with a sigh he emptied himself inside of her.
He put his head down next to hers. "My sweet Lady Of The Lake, I don't care if you don't love me… But I will love you, no matter what you say."
***
Flora awoke when a sunbeam fell into her eyes. She stretched her wonderfully heavy limbs and nuzzled against Francesco under the bedlinen.
At some point later in the night they had finally transferred their love-making to his bedroom for reasons of practicality. A mattress was so much more comfortable than the hard earth.
In between their more passionate episodes they had whispered to one another. He had told her about his time in England and she had told him, well, about her time in England too, because until now, England had been the only place she had ever been.
They had also reviewed their first encounters and Flora had been a little angry to find out that he only had only fallen for her in the opera house, whereas she had been on fire since their very first meeting by the lake. But when she had found that he had kept her scarf under his pillow, she had forgiven him and rewarded him generously.
Alas, after a last act of love making, which took place when the sun was slowly rising outside, they had drifted into sleep.
"Good Morning, orchid eyes." His deep voice created goose-bumps on her skin.
"Good Morning, Altezza." She turned towards him and they kissed for a long time.
"I think they will miss me over at Palazzo Sforza", Flora sniggered. "I hope they won't worry too much."
"We'll send them a letter right away," Francesco replied and smiled. "And then I believe you will have to convert and be a catholic."
She laid one leg over one of his and dropped little kisses on his chest. "Me? A catholic? Why should I need to become a catholic?"
