The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  “And what is your definition of living, Your Highness?” she demanded.

  “It is quite simple. To know one’s destiny and to fulfill it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Oh! Lovely girl! Oh, sweet face

  Bathed in the soft moonlight.

  I see in you the dream

  I’d dream forever!

  —Giacomo Puccini, La Bohème

  “You hold me in disdain for thinking well of myself at the same time I clearly possess something you hold in regard.” Though her gaze remained determined, her expression suddenly softened as she stared at him.

  That was an understatement of momentous proportions.

  “Of course you should hold yourself in regard, Señorita Nicolette.” He raised his glass to her, taking another sip of sherry. “As long as you are able to keep in mind that there are higher ideals in life than service to Nicolette.”

  “Nothing gets through to you.” She moved very near to him, and he felt his breathing increase. “Do you feel nothing?”

  That would be a vast improvement. “What should I feel, Señorita Nicolette? I see that loyalty, devotion, and discipline are insufficient for you.”

  “What about joy, Prince Alejandro? Do you ever feel joy?”

  “Joy?” he asked, sliding slightly away from her as he finished his glass a bit too abruptly and returned it to the table. He was never uncomfortable around women. He relished their proximity. What is happening to me?

  “Joy, bliss, happiness, pleasure. The thrill of being alive. The delight in being loved. To feel one’s spirit dance with the clouds or sing with the angels. Do you ever feel it?”

  “Ah, joy.” He stared at her and had difficulty finding his words for some reason. “I am the ruler of a country in turmoil. My people are illiterate, poor, and underfed, unable to incorporate the technology which might move us forward, and yet we kill each other over our disagreements. This is the situation I face.”

  “This is not yours to solve alone.”

  “This is where you are wrong, Señorita Nicolette. I have some friends, I am blessed beyond measure to have Esteban, but it is not enough. I don’t have the support I need to go forward.” Somberly he added as the full weight of his words enveloped him, “As for my personal life, I have none. I do not have a family. I am not even allowed to make my own family—I must choose a wife to serve my country, which will in all probability be a loveless match.” He chuckled bitterly. “This is the perfect life you speak of, my charming Nicolette.”

  “You are one of the most powerful men in the world, Prince Alejandro.” She stared at him, aghast. “What has happened to you that you feel so powerless?”

  “Oh, I am not powerless,” he murmured. He could bear it no longer. He took her by the waist, but this time his hold was firm. The curve of her waist felt heavenly in his strong hands, and he was startled at the magnitude of his reaction. He kept his eyes glued to hers. Unable to resist her any longer, he determined that he would, at least, have one perfect moment. He bent to kiss her before his reason overtook him.

  Her lips parted readily for him with none of the practiced hesitation he was accustomed to, as if she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. He loved that she was not afraid to show him that.

  Oh, God, I want her. He put his arms tightly around her waist, and she reached up and held his face in her hands. She moved closer, and he held her back in the crook of his arm, bending her backward so that he might delve more deeply into her mouth.

  Their lips touched for the first time, and he felt as if he were floating down a warm river in an electric storm. He knew that he must pull back. She ran her hands through his hair, begging him to give her more.

  “Alejandro,” she whispered. He heard the grandfather clock’s bells ringing. One, two, three.

  Against all of his better instincts, he deepened the kiss. He pressed her closer to his chest and ran his hand along her back until he reached the curve of her waist. He allowed his hand to slide along her waist, longing to feel the fullness of her hips. He pushed her closer.

  Four, five, six.

  Oh, lord, she was intoxicating. He felt as if he would explode.

  He released her, brushing his lips against hers, teasing her, and then he delved his tongue into her mouth, her lips moving with his, so soft, so eager.

  Seven, eight, nine.

  She moved closer to him, running her hands along his arms, his chest, his face. He ran kisses along her face, his eyes wandering to her perfect, full breasts, revealed to perfection. How he longed to kiss them, to awaken her on every level, to…

  Ten, eleven, twelve.

  He pulled her to him in an instant, pressing her lips to his, her chest to his, her…He had probably bruised her in the impact. He had never kissed a woman like that.

  What am I thinking? He was shocked at his own arousal. With all the strength available to him, he straightened himself and slowly released her, dazed. He closed his eyes, seeking to break the spell she wove over him.

  Opening his eyes, he glanced at the calendar. He had arrived here on March 31. He looked at the clock, one second past midnight.

  April’s first kiss is mine.

  “Forgive me, Nicolette,” he muttered. Damn, he wanted her.

  “Forgive you for what?” She sighed, running her hands along her dress as if to straighten it.

  “For forgetting who you are and what you mean to me. For forgetting who I am. I seem to do that a great deal in your presence, Señorita Nicolette.”

  “Ah. For forgetting who you are and kissing the wholly unsuitable me.”

  “No! Señorita Nicolette. You mistake me. I…”

  “If you were not a prince…” She stared at him as if she were contemplating an action before she turned away from his gaze. As if speaking to herself, she whispered, “Who would you be?”

  “I am a prince.” He laughed, but his heart was not in it. “And I will be a king. This is the entirety of my existence. I cannot be other than whom I was created to be.”

  “You are not whom you were created to be, Prince Alejandro.” She ran her eyes along every inch of him, and as she did so she bestowed her most sultry glance upon him. His knees went weak, and he longed to be seated even as he braced himself against the chair. She moved to exit the room but turned to glance back at him, the curve of her hip accentuated as she looked over her shoulder. “If you were, there would be joy in it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’m going to do just as I please!

  I’ll do whatever I like!

  Don’t be a nuisance!

  Let me alone!

  —Giacomo Puccini, La Bohème

  Unfortunately, you must now die.

  And I shall be the one to kill you. Nicolette threw a rose silk pillow, which hit the ring canopy eight feet above her bed and then caught itself in the sheer mauve chiffon before skating to the mauve-and-olive damask cover below. She proceeded to punch the innocent pillow several more times.

  She wanted to scream, but that might damage her voice, and he was not worth that. Not on his best day.

  The pillow must die.

  She glanced at the round portrait of her mother in an antique gold frame hung by a long pink satin ribbon, which generally offered her some comfort. The painting was flanked by two bronze-doré sconces holding ivory candles, and to the right of the painting was a lovely arrangement of peonies and ivy on her writing desk.

  She heard a light tap-tap on the door, and she somehow managed to utter, “Come in.”

  “Oh dear. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Lady Elaina took one look at her and raised her eyebrows even as she swept into the room. “Are you planning to dress today, my sweet?”

  As usual, Lady Elaina was dressed for dramatic effect. She wore a wide-skirted gown of biscuit-color crepe de Paris and a matching blouse coat with bishop sleeves and a front lapel much like a navel admiral’s, belted and banded with taffeta strips and bronze bu
ttons. The coat was trimmed with a heavy lace collar and finished with silk fringe at the front ends. She carried a hat with a chiffon covering, which completely covered her face when set in place atop her elegant auburn coiffure.

  “If it weren’t for those bloodthirsty critics, I would not find myself in this predicament, being forced to compromise myself. Parasites feeding off of other people’s talent.” She punched her pillow again.

  “You’re being forced to compromise yourself?” Lady Elaina’s eyebrows shot up in alarm as she gracefully seated herself at the breakfast sitting table where Nicolette’s tea and toast remained untouched. She poured tea for each of them and motioned to Nicolette to join her. Her voice faltered slightly, in contrast to her composed demeanor. “What precisely do you mean, Nicolette?”

  “I’m being forced to do that which I do not wish to do.” She pushed her legs over the side of her bed, her thick cotton socks soon hidden from view in some contrast to an elegant gold-trimmed aqua India-silk gown. She hurriedly put on a matching robe, which billowed about her as she reluctantly moved to join her grandmother.

  “That’s not quite the same thing as being compromised, my dear. Are your virtue or your values in question?”

  “Certainly not!” Nicolette resounded. “No one shall ever make those decisions for me!”

  Lady Elaina’s lips formed a knowing smile, but Nicolette could not help but observe that her grandmother’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit as she stirred the cream into her tea. Bringing the teacup to her lips, Lady Elaina inquired liltingly, “What is it then, my love?”

  “I will be singing for Prince Alejandro tomorrow evening.” Nicolette threw her face into her hands, her tea untouched. “A private performance.”

  “Nicolette, are you concerned that His Highness will show the slightest impropriety toward you?” Lady Elaina cleared her throat, and her eyes threw open. She executed the smallest of movements as she set her spoon beside her teacup. “If so, I will accompany you no matter what anyone shall say!”

  “No, no, to be sure, there can be no question of that, Grandmamma.” She sighed. He had already made it quite clear that he was not even remotely attracted to her. That kiss. The earth had moved for her, and he was unaffected. She didn’t know how one person could feel so much when the other felt nothing. What affliction did she suffer from that she could be drawn to such a man?

  Her world was upside down and out of control. Each day was worse than the day before, and she felt she would explode if things didn’t begin to make sense again.

  “Nicolette, are you quite sure? Of what are you thinking?” Lady Elaina demanded.

  “I beg your pardon? Oh, never fear on that score, Grandmamma! And anyway, there will be servants everywhere within earshot, as well as my own maid in an adjoining room, quite accessible to me.”

  “What then, love? Please tell me, I grow weary of this guessing game!” She frowned with a severity that Nicolette seldom saw bestowed upon her.

  “Monsieur Beaumaris as much as told me my solo career is finished if I don’t sing for the prince. Can you imagine! It is the most humiliating experience of my life. I, who have worked night and day to be true to my art, must now lower myself to politics!”

  “Politics makes the world go ’round, my dear. One must merely use it to one’s advantage.”

  “That is precisely what is happening, Grandmamma! And why I fear I will be ill!” She closed her eyes momentarily. “Music must never be used. She must be felt. She must be revered. It is positively unholy!”

  “Oh, my dear girl, really. Is there the slight possibility that you might be overreacting?”

  “Not the slightest! And it would be one thing if my esteemed audience appreciated the honor, but I can assure you, Grandmamma, that that is far from the case.” Nicolette stood up suddenly and began pacing around the room, her fists clenched. “He holds me in contempt at the same time he wishes to receive my gifts.”

  “Nicolette, I saw you with the prince, and I can assure you that he does not hold you in contempt!”

  “Oh, but he does! His attitude toward women is positively ancient! The Neanderthal has no advantage over him! Worse, I do not even think he reveres the music. That I cannot forgive, above all else! He views it rather like a disgusting medicine which must be taken. My singing a necessary evil. Oh!” She threw her arms in the air. “I will offer up the fruits of my labor, a divine gift, to…to…such an ungrateful imbecile! I am beside myself with rage!” She swayed her arms, and the bishop sleeves of her pale-aqua India-silk dressing gown flared in every direction.

  Not to mention that she had thrown herself at him after he lured her in with his charm! And then he had as much as discarded her. She had suffered insult upon insult at Prince Alejandro’s hand. She, who had men practically swooning to pick up her handkerchief!

  “I am astonished to learn it, my lamb,” Lady Elaina murmured. “I had been in some doubt of your true feelings.”

  “He does not deserve to hear me sing. It is positively revolting!” Nicolette faced Lady Elaina, who was now comfortably seated at the breakfast table, watching her granddaughter intently as she buttered her toast.

  “No one deserves to hear you sing, I am sure. It is the nectar from the gods.”

  “His Royal Highness,” she emphasized with causticity, “has ordered me about and diminished me from the first moment of our meeting. And now I am being required—me, Lady Nicolette Huntington—required to perform at my best for someone who misunderstands and judges me!”

  “Now really, Nicolette, you have been a performer for people whom you don’t know, who don’t know you—thank goodness!—for many years now.” A chuckle escaped Lady Elaina’s lips. “An ill-informed audience is nothing new for you. This is what you do.”

  “What do I do, Grandmamma? I would truly like to know this.”

  “You show them a glimpse of the next level of existence.” Lady Elaina took another sip of tea.

  “I have never in my life had my devotion to giving my best performance so challenged.” Alejandro was the most imprisoned person she had ever known—his “guilty pleasures” notwithstanding. How demoralizing to be thought of as someone’s sin!

  “Who is requiring you to perform at your best, Nicolette? Simply do what is required and leave,” offered Lady Elaina matter-of-factly.

  “I require it, Grandmamma.” She fell onto her bed and placed her pillow over her head. Her muffled voice exclaimed, “He is positively the most infuriating man I have ever met!”

  “I had thought…I had heard…that the prince has a reputation with the ladies,” Lady Elaina remarked delicately, clearing her throat. “And yet you do not seem to find him…irresistible, my love.”

  “He is a rake.” She removed the pillow from her head as she began to feel she was choking and threw it across the room. “Don’t stare at me so, Grandmamma! It is true. He is the type of man I dislike to the extreme.”

  “I must remember to ask your mother to have some new pillows sewn.”

  “And yet he has no difficulty keeping his distance from me. He has all the depravity without any of the emotion, the sensual feeling, the poetic fervor, which might cast his darker side in an appealing light.”

  “And do you think that his reputation is…deserved, Nicolette?”

  “It is difficult to believe that this man is able to attract any woman from the manners he exhibits. In my company, he is starched, closed, contemptuous, and censoriously abusive!”

  “He has not tried to woo you?” Lady Elaina continued unrelentingly in her characteristically pointed manner.

  Nicolette laughed disdainfully. “Far from exerting the slightest effort to woo me, he doesn’t care how much he snubs me!” Clearly he didn’t feel anything in her presence, didn’t even like her, she thought with indignation. She was accustomed to bedazzling men, to eliciting their best behavior.

  “I begin to wonder if we are living in the same world, Nicolette. His behavior toward you is the farthest
from a snub I have ever observed.”

  “As for charm, I can recognize charm, and I am sorry to say the crown prince of Spain does not have it. His attraction for women must be his money and his position, because he doesn’t have an ounce of charm in his entire body.”

  “Truly? Again I must strenuously disagree.”

  Nicolette sat up and moved to her window to glance upon her distant neighbor on the north side of the park, the Palais du Luxembourg originally built for Marie de Médicis, mother of Louis XIII. In 1794, during the French Revolution, the palace served as a prison. A dark gloom began to descend upon her as she was reminded of her own prison when out of nowhere she saw a marsh harrier in flight, its wings stretched, soaring across the sky. Just as suddenly the majestic bird abandoned its flight path and alighted on the statue of Saint-Geneviève, patroness of Paris.

  “And he needs me, Grandmamma,” she whispered.

  “Oh?” asked Lady Elaina, clearly interested, her hand falling to her side. “And what concern is that of yours, Nicolette?”

  “When I speak of joy, Alejandro looks at me with a blank expression.” She shook her head, turning to look at her grandmother. “He has no concept of himself apart from his role in society, apart from his position in life as ‘the future king of Spain.’”

  “Are you quite sure, Nicolette?”

  “Completely. He has no experience of separateness, of himself.” She nodded. She moved to sit beside her grandmother at the small breakfast table in her bedroom, which allowed a view of the garden. She poured another cup of tea for Lady Elaina and began to sip her own, still warm, her hand shaking.

  Concern crossed Lady Elaina’s face, but she said nothing.

  “He has no sense that he is loved, that he is a beloved child of God, that he is…magnificent. A beloved, amazing, irritating, glorious, thoroughly annoying man!” She clenched her fists.

  “Magnificent and annoying? Hmmm…”