Sweeter Than Chocolate: Valentine's Day Anthology

by Gina Kincade

  "The question of a will is important. If she has one, then she only needs to prove she is who she says she is."

  "And if she doesn't have a will? Can we get the whole thing thrown out of court?"

  Stephano shook his head. "If there is no will, but a claim is made on the land, that might be even more difficult. The court will have to do lengthy searches to determine if there is a legitimate heir."

  "She’s not legitimate," Raul insisted stubbornly. "You know that I grew up on property that abuts this land. I would have known about any heir."

  Stephano leaned back in his chair. "Your best bet, then, is to try to prove that she doesn’t have a valid claim, or is an impostor."

  "Which means I need to befriend her so I can figure out what she's doing."

  Stephano raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure that would be your motive? You seemed quite taken with her last night."

  Raul smiled. "This is a situation where a well-known maxim comes into play."

  "What's that?"

  Raul stopped pacing, grinned at his friend and mimed pointing a gun at him. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

  Stephano laughed. "I'll have to keep that in mind."

  Raul flung himself down in a chair and wheeled it up next to Stephano. "Here's what we're going to do."

  Chapter Five

  "Tem!" Alessandra closed the front door, and rushed into the living room. She waved a heavy card in her hand. "I got an invitation to a party from Princess de Seville! It was hand delivered!"

  She'd answered the ringing doorbell two days after the ball to find a short, bald-headed man with a polite smile standing on the front stoop. He'd identified himself as Jakob Muller, an assistant to the Princess. While Alessandra gaped at him, speechless, he handed her an envelope, informed her in accented English that she could respond by text, and departed in a stately manner, riding in a chauffeured limo.

  Tem looked up from his deep, comfortable chair, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

  Alessandra's excitement skidded to a halt.

  "How do you know the Princess?" Tem said.

  "I met her at the ball."

  "You didn't tell me that." Tem reached out, and Alessandra handed him the card.

  "I never thought it would amount to anything," she answered. "But now I've actually been invited for dinner!" Her excitement returned and she had to resist the urge to jump up and down like a child.

  Tem's half smile turned into a frown, but he didn't say anything.

  "What's wrong, Tem?" Alessandra leaned over him, reading again the invitation he held in his hand.

  He shifted in his seat, as if uneasy. "I'm probably being paranoid, and don't take this the wrong way, but why would they invite you? You're not part of the glamorous set that plays with the European aristocracy."

  Alessandra felt her shoulders sag, the thrill of the invitation dwindling like a blown-out flame. "I thought, from the research I did before I came here, that Austrians are quite egalitarian. The princess was very nice when I met her. She's an American, you know, and she seemed happy to meet another American. Do you really think it's odd for her to invite me? It's just a dinner invitation, not a proposal to adopt me."

  Tem's expression softened. "I don't want to destroy your illusions, child. It just seems strange to me. But of course you should go. It will be another night to remember."

  "I never imagined my visit to Austria would be so exciting." Alessandra twirled about the room, followed by Tem's anxious gaze. "I've met an almost duke, and a princess, and you, dearest Tem." She came to an abrupt halt by his chair, and flung her arms around him. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't offered to host me."

  "Nonsense," he said brusquely. "You have a lot of grit and don't you forget it. You'll find a way to get what you want in Austria."

  She pulled up the scarred leather ottoman and sat down in front of him.

  "I'm going to Daenos tomorrow," she said. "I want to visit this house that Nona lived in, and also get a copy of my birth certificate at the town hall. I can't wait to have some proof of my identity."

  "The house has been uninhabited since Adela died," Tem warned. "Be realistic about what you may find."

  "I don't care, Tem." She heard the wistful note in her own voice. "I had a magical childhood, and I've wanted to go back there ever since I left. It’s taken me so long just to get this far."

  "That's precisely what I'm trying to warn you against," he said. "Time only runs one way. You can't return to your childhood."

  "I can return to my memories," she said stubbornly. "I will."

  She didn't want to listen to his dour warnings. She had to find a home, somewhere, to ease this big hole that threatened sometimes to consume her. She was not a solitary person, even though circumstances had forced her to be one. She wanted to be surrounded by people and laughter and activity. Of course, she couldn't find that in an abandoned house. But she could wrap herself in her memories, and if that was all she could have, she would have to make do.

  There was nothing for her back in the arid confines of Los Angeles. Nothing but bad memories of a constantly striving mother who had to hide her only daughter in order to keep herself young. Youth was the holy grail of Hollywood. Every time her mother won a small part, she spent the money on skin care, exercise gurus, and plastic surgery, in a never-ending quest to stave off the effects of time.

  Nothing could age her more quickly than a teenaged daughter, so she'd basically erased Alessandra's existence. Of course, she'd already erased Alessandra's name when they moved to America. Her mother didn't want any foreign sounding, multi-syllabic name.

  No, she'd settled on a one-syllable name that she thought would bring her fame and fortune. Who could forget it? Who would not strive to own a piece of it?

  The name was 'Love'.

  Yes, she'd endured living with the name Alessandra Love. Of course she'd been mocked. How could it be otherwise? Not to mention, she was actually a love child. Why would her mother burden her with that as a name?

  She'd never known her father, never heard a word about him and even now, after finding her grandmother's letter in her mother's belongings, she still didn't know anything about him.

  Suddenly, she raised her head, stopped petting the dog at her side, and flung her hope at Tem.

  "You said you knew my grandmother for all of your life," she said. "Did you know anything about my father?"

  Tem was startled. She could see it in his eyes. And why not? Her question had come out of nowhere.

  He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, child. I know nothing about him."

  "Where were you when my mother was pregnant?" She wouldn't give up. Maybe he could remember some small thing, out of which she could begin a search.

  "I was roaming, child. Remember, I'm of the Romany. I never saw your mother pregnant."

  "Did Nona ever mention him?"

  Tem shook his head sadly. "I wish I had something to tell you. But sometimes, child, we just need to accept that things are what they are."

  "No." The simple word was fierce. "Don’t you see that I need to know where I came from?"

  "You came from your mother, and your grandmother, and all of the generations of Romany before you." Tem reached out a hand. "I’d be happy to teach you about our culture and history, the magic and the spirit of the Romany."

  Alessandra grasped his hand. "Thank you, Tem. I’d like that. But it’s only half my story."

  His eyes twinkled. "But a great half."

  "I’m hoping—" She paused, thinking over the words she’d never said aloud. The absence of a father had shaped her in ways she didn’t even understand. How could anyone else?

  The wound had always been too deep, too humiliating. Her own father didn’t want her.

  But Tem was different. He didn’t have a judgmental bone in his body. He accepted things as they were, not as they should be, or as someone wished they were.

  In the end, she didn’t have to say it.<
br />
  "You’re hoping," Tem said, his old eyes wise with empathy, "that you’ll find the name of your father on your birth certificate."

  She let out her breath, and nodded.

  "I hope you do." His gaze drifted for a moment. "But the papers of officialdom will never make up for the absence in your life of a father. You know this."

  She nodded again. It was nothing less than the truth.

  "One way or another," Tem added, "you will come to terms with this reality."

  She would. By reclaiming her grandmother’s property, and by finding her father. Both goals would heal her wounds.

  She was sure of it.

  Chapter Six

  The chauffeur opened the door to the limousine, and handed Alessandra out of the car. He'd been sent by the princess to pick up Alessandra, an arrangement which she’d been informed of via text when she accepted the dinner invitation.

  It will help with security, the princess had texted, when Alessandra had tried to decline the service. And, in fact, she had been whisked to the palace without any snafus.

  She stared at the magnificence spread out before her—a perfectly symmetrical expanse of pale golden stucco rising three stories to the nighttime sky. Lights sparkled from at least a dozen windows spread across the first floor. A row of classical busts occupied niches above each window, and another row of dark windows marched along a third story.

  The chauffeur led her up a row of shallow steps to a colonnaded loggia decorated with huge potted plants and overhead lights that softly lit the darkness.

  The enormous front doors opened and a uniformed butler bowed slightly. Behind him, she glimpsed mahogany side tables gleaming with satiny finishes, enormous vases of fresh flowers spreading into gorgeous bouquets, and a sparkling double-tiered chandelier dripping with crystal and gold fittings.

  He led her through the marble-floored foyer to, as he murmured, the Red Salon. When he announced her name at the door, Alessandra was grateful to see the Princess de Seville gliding toward her.

  The Princess was exquisitely framed by the brilliant red room behind her. Red silk walls were printed with a tone on tone pattern, as were the upholstered chairs painted with gold leaf. Antique artwork was hung on the walls, and spotlighted with soft lights.

  A Steinway grand piano lurked in one corner and an enormous gold mirror reflected the well-dressed guests standing in small groups throughout the room. Music from the pianist floated throughout the gorgeous room.

  The Princess hugged Alessandra and thanked her warmly for coming. Then she introduced her to her husband, the Prince, who was a handsome man with a winning smile, and a warm clasp. "My wife," he said, "was so excited to meet a fellow American at the Stirling ball on Valentine’s Day. I'm glad you could join us tonight."

  "Thank you for inviting me." Alessandra gave him a smile and moved into the room, amazed that the couple could make her feel like she was honoring them, when, in fact, it was the other way around. The Princess introduced her to some of the other guests, young people from Austria, who welcomed her.

  Alessandra wouldn't admit to herself that she was hoping to see someone in particular, but when he walked into the room, her heart stopped. The heir to the dukedom of Stirling clapped the Prince on the back and said something which made them both laugh uproariously.

  And Alessandra mourned a little. Because Raul was like a star, eclipsing everyone else in the room. She noted that he did not glance around, as if looking for anyone, but headed straight to a small group of men and women who were clearly his friends. They greeted him like a long-lost brother.

  Alessandra sighed silently. She should be glad he'd forgotten all about her. It was ridiculous of her to have hoped he might look for her, let alone approach her. This was his world, and she was an interloper. Worse, he was dangerous to her, considering that he already considered her an impostor, and she knew her claim was going to be hard to prove.

  So it was best if he stayed far away. If she felt a twinge of regret, that was only normal. He was a devastatingly attractive man, and would make any woman's pulse jump into overtime. She didn't need to read anything more into that breathless feeling she got whenever she looked at him.

  The dinner party was not as large as she’d expected, consisting of only three dozen people, including the Prince and Princess. So even though Alessandra was at the opposite end of the table from Raul, it was still all too easy to let her eye wander. A couple times she even caught his eye on her, with a look of speculation in his gaze. Of course, he didn't believe she was who she said she was, so that was no surprise. Unfortunately, his lack of trust did not diminish his appeal to her. Which she thought was very unfair. She should not be able to be attracted to a man who thought she was a liar.

  Raul was seated in the place of honor next to the princess, and Mirella was seated on his right. Did they have a relationship that was known to everyone but Alessandra?

  The Brettljause appetizer tasted like sawdust, even though she was sure the traditional spread of meats, bread, and pickled vegetables had to actually be delicious. She sipped at her wine, trying to pretend she was partaking of the meal.

  More importantly, she made an effort to converse with the two men on either side of her, Stephano, who was witty and handsome, and his friend Lukas, who set up a gentle flirtation with her. In order to parry his questions about her background, she quizzed him relentlessly about himself, trying to ignore the speculation in Stephano’s gaze.

  When the delicious meal was over, the group returned to the Red Salon. Lukas continued to hover by her side, with another friend of his joining them. She admitted to having grown up in Los Angeles, but tried to avoid other questions. Her past was not something she ever wanted to discuss. How small and pitiful she would seem, compared to these international jet-setters.

  She smelled the fire burning in snow before she saw him, and so she wasn't surprised when Raul appeared in front of her.

  "Good evening, my beautiful gypsy." He bowed slightly as he lifted her hand, and pressed his lips to it, just like he'd done at the ball. She shivered, and she could tell, by the slight smile that curved his lips, that he noticed.

  "I'm not yours, Raul," she said too sharply, and then realized she'd made too much of his harmless statement.

  "Not yet, der Liebling." He winked at her, to show everyone he was just teasing.

  "You'll have to speak English if you want me to understand you," she snapped, trying to show him she would not fall at his feet.

  Raul raised his eyebrows sharply, as if truly surprised. "You don't remember any German from your childhood?"

  Damn. She'd put her foot in that one. Of course she knew 'der Liebling' meant, 'sweetheart' or 'darling'. It was a common endearment, and she certainly shouldn't make too much of it.

  "I couldn't imagine," she said coolly, "that you would use such an endearment, given that you called me a liar the last time we met. I doubted my own recollection of my German."

  "If you say so," Raul said smoothly. "How is your German these days? I noticed the Prince and Princess have conducted this party in English. Perhaps in deference to your inability to speak the local language?"

  "I left Austria at the age of eight," she retorted. "It’s no surprise I lost my memory of the language. German is not a well-known tongue in America. Perhaps because its practitioners have so often been tyrants?"

  Stephano laughed, and tried to break the tension. "You’ve nailed it. Men salute when Raul walks among us, and women run in fear of his tyrannical disposition."

  "Correction!" Raul exclaimed. "Women embrace my domineering disposition." He pretended to buff an imaginary medal on his chest.

  "Women who are weak and foolish," Alessandra snapped, just as the Princess walked up.

  "What’s this?" she said in her melodious voice. "No woman who was weak and foolish could handle Raul." She laughed. "Even though he’s mostly a lovable teddy bear."

  "Damned with faint praise." Raul grinned at the Princess. "Here
I am trying to impress your guest, and you chuff me off by comparing me to Pooh."

  "No, no, you can’t compare yourself to Pooh," Alessandra said, making her voice as sweet as sugar syrup. "Of all the bears ever written into the English language, he has got to be the most lovable."

  "And lovable is exactly what I am!" Raul spread his arms wide, as if he’d embrace the entire world. His grin matched his stance, and she could see exactly how he was so successful in life.

  She couldn’t help releasing a ladylike snort.

  "Versus you," he continued, dropping his arms, "who is more like Goldilocks. No man, er, I mean bear, could ever measure up to your standards."