Her Royal Masquerade (Her Royal Romance)

by Natasha Moore

  “Well, it’s a lovely night and I hope His Majesty is pleased with all the people who have come here to honor him.” She caught his eye and smiled, still swaying in his arms. “And this wonderful music is certain to help him feel better. How could it not?”

  The music changed to a faster song and at first Vittorio was not happy when she backed out of his arms. He already liked the feel of her there. But then she started to dance.

  Vittorio knew he was supposed to dance as well, but he suddenly couldn’t move his feet, or take his eyes off Birgitte. So he stood, entranced, and watched her dance.

  The way the princess shimmied that body was close to indecent. Yes, he’d seen her on the dance floor in London, but at that time she hadn’t been his dance partner. The stab of jealousy was unexpected, but he found he wanted to get her away from the eyes of all the other men watching her move those slender hips in time with the music.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her close again. This was where she belonged.

  “But this isn’t a slow dance song.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in tight. “I say it is.”

  “And of course whatever the prince says, goes, right?” Even with that protest, she settled against him.

  “Of course.” With all the heavy responsibilities that came with the title, he wasn’t going to complain about the few benefits. “But then, you must find the same applies to a princess.”

  She blinked, then nodded. “Yes, what the princess wants is more important than just about anything.”

  He frowned at the edge that crept into her voice, but when she shifted, pressing her softness against his rock hard erection, his curiosity fled. He spread his hand along her back, keeping her close.

  “Right now,” she said, easing away, “this princess would like some more champagne and a chance to rest her high-heeled feet.”

  Getting her off the dance floor was a great idea. He took her hand. “Right this way.” He led her over to his table and one of his well-trained wait staff was already there. “Two champagnes,” he ordered and then held out a chair for Birgitte.

  When he sat down beside her, she tilted her head and studied him. What was she looking for? What did she see? Did she see a thirty year old playboy who used to party nearly as hard as she did? Or a man too young to be anticipating the weight of an entire nation on his shoulders?

  “Thank you for the dance,” she said with a smile, “but I’m sure you have other duties to attend to. Don’t feel you have to stay with me.”

  He wasn’t going anywhere. “Bored with my company already?”

  “Of course not. But don’t you have to make the rounds or something?”

  “Anyone who wants to speak to me knows where I am.” And if they knew what was good for them, they’d know not to interrupt. “There are plenty of family members around to keep an eye on things and my staff is extremely competent.” He couldn’t resist lifting her hand to his lips again. He wondered how long before he could get her to remove those long gloves. “I find there’s no one I’d rather be speaking with right now than you. I’d like to sip some champagne and rest my feet as well.”

  She studied him some more. “Okay.” She looked out over the ballroom. “So there are a lot of your family members here tonight?”

  “Yes, family is very important in Mezzano, even more so than our music. My brother and sister are around here somewhere. Unfortunately, my mother died a few years ago, but there are many aunts and uncles and cousins here as well.” The champagne arrived and he handed Birgitte a glass. “Do you have a large family?”

  “No. I’m an only child. My parents, the king and queen, are still alive, of course, and I have one aunt and uncle and one cousin. A very small family.”

  His research had been correct. The talk was that the king and queen of Stagatland were anxious for their partying princess to settle down and begin to increase the royal family. As Vittorio sat beside the lovely princess, watched her sip champagne and remembered the incredible feeling of her body against his, he knew he’d been right to send her the invitation for tonight’s celebration.

  Everything was moving along even better than he had planned.

  Chapter Two

  Mia sipped her champagne and tried not to be affected by the man sitting next to her. He was so…so everything. Charming. Gorgeous. Commanding. Seductive. One dance and she hadn’t been able to control her reaction to him. What had made her press against him like that?

  To rub against his obvious erection? With a man she’d only known a few minutes. She was certain even Birgitte wouldn’t have been that forward.

  She’d had to get off the dance floor, had to get out of his arms before she did something outrageous like beg him to take her to some dark corner and ease the ache he was causing within her. But tonight she was Birgitte. No free pass at this ball. She had to act the princess.

  But she longed to be out on the dance floor again. The music was so stirring. She found herself swaying with the beat of the song. The ballad was one she didn’t recognize, one she’d certainly never heard back home. The melody called to her on a visceral level. There was no logical reason why. Music was that way sometimes. It couldn’t have anything to do with Vittorio.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked softly, leaning over to murmur the question softly in her ear.

  “Simply enjoying the music,” she replied, trying to ignore the delightful shiver caused by the whisper of his warm breath along her skin.

  He slipped his arm over the top of her chair, letting his fingers brush her bare shoulders.

  Just a simple touch like that sent her heart racing. “Would you like to dance again?” he asked in a seductive tone that suggested he might be talking about more than just a dance.

  “I’m not sure I dare,” she admitted, keeping her gaze on the musicians.

  “Oh?” With one finger, he touched her chin and turned her face his way. He shot her a wickedly sexy grin. “You don’t seem to be the type to back away from a challenge.”

  She leaned back against his warm arm. She couldn’t help herself. “So I should consider another dance with you as a challenge?”

  One lazy finger traced circles on her bare shoulder, teasing a shiver to run along her skin. “For me, the challenge will be pretending I have no more interest in you than any other guest at the palace tonight.”

  Mia swallowed to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. Pretending she was Birgitte made it slightly easier for her to hold his gaze and slowly smile. “And what interest do you have in the princess of Stagatland?”

  “I assure you, my interest in you is strictly as a beautiful, enticing woman. That you are the lovely princess is simply an additional benefit.”

  She knew better. He wouldn’t be flirting with her if he knew she was a commoner, no one of importance. If he ever saw her in her usual outfits, the bulky sweaters and heavy boots, he wouldn’t look at her twice. The knowledge should have upset her, but it had been a fact of life for her since she was old enough to realize that her cousin was treated differently than she was. Mia had always had to step back and let Birgitte have all the attention, no matter if it was a royal affair or simply a family gathering.

  To be called beautiful and enticing by such a handsome, charming man gave her often bruised ego a boost. What harm would it do to soak up an easy compliment? He probably tossed them away like crumbs to the birds. A man such as Prince Vittorio surely had had his choice of beautiful women over the years. He knew how to charm. Seduce. She told herself she could enjoy it without making more of it than what was intended.

  Birgitte would probably take the compliment as her due. No sense gushing over the flattering remarks. She was a princess. Act like it, she admonished herself.

  “I suppose I could take a chance and join you on the dance floor once more,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and flirty, and not betray the fact that she was aching to be back in his arms again.

  “I like a woman w
ho’s willing to take a risk.” The faint lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile and she wanted to reach out and brush her finger over them. Oh, she liked him. More than she should.

  Grab the moment, Mia. Tomorrow you’ll be back home, shivering from the freezing cold instead of the arousing touch of a handsome prince.

  Vittorio rose and graciously helped her to her feet. His commanding presence threatened to take her breath away. How could she resist him at all?

  “Please let the musicians know how much I enjoyed their music tonight,” Mia said as he led her back onto the dance floor. She reveled in the feel of his arms around her waist, possessive when she’d never before wanted to be possessed by any man.

  “You can tell them yourself,” Vittorio told her.

  He drew her over to the ensemble and she was embarrassed that they stopped playing to give the prince their attention. Everyone in the room must have been looking at them in the sudden quiet. Mia didn’t turn around to check. She didn’t want to know.

  “Princess Birgitte would like to have a word,” Vittorio told the leader, a gray-haired gentleman who reminded Mia so much of her father that her heart clenched.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt,” she said. And she certainly didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself. “I simply wanted to convey my heartfelt appreciation for your wonderful music tonight. I’m enjoying it so much, as I’m sure everyone here is as well.”

  The musicians smiled, dipped their heads in response, then cradled their instruments and began playing again. Vittorio led her onto the floor and gathered her into his arms.

  “Music is seen as an indulgence in Stagatland,” Mia told him as they slowly danced in the center of the floor. “Most people in my country don’t see it as something that feeds the soul.” She sighed. “Perhaps you are right. We are a cold-blooded people.”

  “If you are any example, I can’t believe you are at all cold-blooded,” Vittorio said. “However, I find it hard to believe any people would not be moved by music.” His tone was light, as not to offend, but the incredulity was clear in his voice.

  “In my country’s defense, in such a harsh climate as ours, some days it is all we can do to survive. And in the past, life in Stagatland was all about survival. Our people didn’t have the time or energy to indulge in such a useless pastime.”

  “But you don’t believe that.” Not a question. A statement. “You don’t consider music to be useless.”

  “Oh no. My…ah, my uncle is a violinist. He’s very talented. I love to listen to him play. He and his friends create music that makes my heart soar.” Mia wished her father could have been here tonight, to listen to these incredible musicians and see the respect they were given. “But they only play for the enjoyment of a few. He’s employed in a bank. He could never make a living doing what he loves. Not in Stagatland.”

  Vittorio tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I can see why you appreciate the music here tonight.”

  She caught a whiff of his masculine scent and wanted to bury her face into the crook of his neck and inhale deeply. “Of course, we listen to music from other countries. We’re not that isolated. But our country doesn’t support the arts as you do here in Mezzano.”

  “What activities does Stagatland support?”

  His large hand pressed against her back. The warmth, the strength, seeped into her body. Heating her. She struggled to pick up the thread of their conversation.

  “Sensible pursuits are expected of all our people.” She pressed her body along his hard length, which was not sensible at all. “Loyalty to country and family is most important. Drilled into our heads from an early age. Hard work is required, of course, from sun up until sun down.”

  “And yet I’ve heard that their princess spends most of her time partying in other countries.”

  Mia stifled a gasp. She leaned back to meet Vittorio’s gaze. She would have pulled out of his arms but he didn’t loosen his hold on her. His expression didn’t show censure, but something more like curiosity.

  She sighed and tried a small smile. “Luckily the people in our country love the royal family so much that they forgive their future queen just about anything. If they indulge at all, it’s in sensational stories about their princess. Perhaps they like to live vicariously through…um, through my experiences.” It was the only excuse she could give Birgitte.

  Again, Mia wished she’d researched Vittorio before making the trip to Mezzano. But how could she have ever expected to find herself in his arms? Even though she agreed with his comment about Birgitte’s escapades, her loyalty to her cousin required her to try to defend her. What would Birgitte say in her defense? Surely Vittorio was not perfect. “I doubt the future king of Mezzano hasn’t sowed a few wild oats of his own.”

  The sudden uneasy expression on his face told Mia she’d struck a nerve. “Touché, Princess. Although I’m afraid royal duties keep me close to the palace now.” He swept a lazy hand along her hair and grazed her cheek with his jaw, the slight roughness surprisingly arousing. “I can’t fault you for enjoying your freedom while you can.”

  She heard the sadness in his voice and wondered if the king’s illness was more serious than Vittorio had let on.

  Mia’s skin tingled as Vittorio continued to play with her hair and softly brushed her face with his once again. They were barely moving, not doing much more than swaying in each other’s arms to the rhythm of the music. His breath was warm along her cheek. He murmured a few words she didn’t recognize. Soft words with a silky, sensual feel to them, just like the lips that were now teasing along her jaw line.

  Her breath caught when his lips found hers. He drew them lightly across hers, not a real kiss, but the hint of one, the promise of more, if only they weren’t in the middle of a crowd. Mia shifted in his arms, moving her body against his. She found his hard erection and her body softened, moistened.

  What was she doing?

  “Hot,” she gasped, stumbling out of his embrace. “So hot. I’m sorry. I need some air.”

  “Of course.” Vittorio wrapped his arm around her waist and the couples on the dance floor stopped and parted for them. He led her to a French door in a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto a softly lit patio.

  Mia rushed over to the waist high railing constructed of rough-hewn stone like the rest of the palace. Darkness had fallen while she’d been inside. Lights from the towns around them sparkled below. Stars in the inky sky twinkled above. Once again she had the feeling of stepping into a fairy tale.

  The air was warm, even outside, with barely a breeze to lift the moisture from her skin. She took a few decidedly un-princesslike gulps of air, trying to calm the edgy arousal that burned within her.

  “Are you alright?” Vittorio asked. He stepped up to her and the heat from his body didn’t help her at all. “Do you need to sit down? Something cold to drink?”

  “I’ll be okay. Just give me a minute. I guess I’m just not used to the climate here.” She was so hot. She began to tug down one of the opera-length gloves. Would it be a serious breach of conduct if she whipped them off and threw them over the railing?

  “Allow me,” he said, his voice suddenly a little deeper, a little slower than it had been a moment before. He took her hand in his, stretched out her arm in front of him. He ran his free hand up, starting at the palm of the hand resting in his. Slowly, so slowly, he moved his hand up her arm. There might as well not have been the fabric of the glove between them, she felt his touch so strongly. When his fingers reached the top of the glove, he didn’t immediately begin to remove it. Instead, he teased the bare skin of her upper arm with his fingers. “So soft,” he whispered, holding her gaze. He swept his hand up to her bare shoulders and cupped her neck, skimming his thumb along her collar bone, just above the diamonds Birgitte had trusted her with. “This beautiful necklace is not half as lovely as you,” he murmured.

  She couldn’t speak, could only offer a shaky smile
in response. He was holding her hand, her throat. Could he feel her trembling beneath his touch?

  “But you are hot. It is our weather, no doubt. I can help you with this problem, I think.” Vittorio began to slowly peel the glove from her arm, dragging his fingers along her skin as he did. He focused all his attention on her arm, as if it were the most important thing to him at the moment.

  What would it be like to have that single-minded attention focused on her while making love? Even as Vittorio stripped off her glove, her body heated further with the image of his long, powerful frame moving over her, entering her.

  Mia imagined he would take command of her body, ensuring that he pleasured her with all the skill he surely possessed. She couldn’t help but wonder if he would look as amazing out of the expensively tailored clothing as he did at this moment. Of course, he would. Everything about Vittorio was first class. He would fit right in with Birgitte. Mia wasn’t close to being in the same league.

  Vittorio began to strip off the second glove, giving it every bit as much attention as he had given to the first one. His fingers strummed along her arm as he tugged at the satin. Her newly bared arm hung at her side, her fingers closed into a fist so she didn’t reach out and tangle them in his thick hair.

  “Don’t you have breezes in Mezzano?” she asked, her voice rough with desire. She hoped he would think it was the heat that affected her so. He still held one of her hands in his. She lifted the other hand to wave in front of her face, trying to stir the muggy air.

  “Ah, my poor cara. It is still and humid this evening. Be assured we have our share of wind and rain.” The second glove was off now and Vittorio released her hand. How ridiculous it was to feel bereft at the loss of his touch. He folded the gloves and tucked them into the pocket of his jacket.

  Mia lifted her heavy hair off her neck to try to cool off for a moment. Maybe she should have worn it up. “I know I should enjoy the warm weather. Right now in Stagatland I would have to be bundled up in a coat and scarf and boots to stand outside.”