“Thank you, love,” Nicolette sighed.
“I have arranged some Spanish music for you, mi cielito.” Alejandro bent toward her.
Nicolette smiled. Alejandro had thought of every detail, and she had only to dress for the wedding, carry her roses, and enjoy her guests.
As the flamenco dancers performed for her and the guitarist played and sang, she watched wide-eyed, feeling absolutely invigorated by it. It was fiercely emotional music with a strong rhythm. There was much rhythmic hand clapping and encouraging shouts from fellow performers, and the dancers came down heavily on the brick patio, emphasizing the beat. The execution was brilliant, noisy, and savage. She wondered that there must have been some metal attached to their shoes. The male dancer wore a white ruffled shirt and very formfitting black clothing—dressed much like the matador—and the rippling of every muscle was evident to her. Likewise, the female dancer was dressed provocatively, with one side of her low-cut, highly ruffled dress reaching up to her thigh. The combination of music, dance, and rhythm created a wildly focused, almost-trancelike state of emotion.
“What is this flamenco dance, Alejandro?” she asked breathlessly, clapping vigorously even as she turned to Alejandro.
“Traveling troupes perform it and are increasing in popularity throughout Spain.”
“I have no doubt of that!” replied Nicolette.
Alejandro laughed as he smiled down at her, noticeably pleased that she had enjoyed the show.
“What is the origin of this music…this dance?” she asked.
“There is some mystery around the flamenco, which seems fitting.” His mouth formed a half smile as he shook his head. “We first saw the flamenco performed by the Andalusian Gypsies of southern Spain. The Roma, as they are called, migrated from Rajasthan in northwest India to Spain between the ninth and fourteenth centuries.”
“This marvelous dance has its origins in India?”
“It is the blend of two cultures, possibly more.” He nodded. “Indians, Spaniards, and Gypsies.”
“I must learn this dance!” Nicolette exclaimed.
“Nothing would please me more, my queen,” he whispered in her ear.
“Nothing?” she asked slyly.
“Did you have the wedding you dreamed of, my love?” he asked her when they returned to the bridal suite after one of the most wonderful evenings of her life.
“And I have the husband I could never have dreamed of,” she replied as she slowly sunk into a bed of rose petals, where her husband made tender love to her.
Gently his lips claimed hers, and time stood still as he kissed her, running his hands along her hips and then her thighs, pulling her closer to him. He coaxed and teased her, waiting to enter her until she begged him to do so. In the weeks which followed their first night together, he utilized every method known to him to tantalize and amaze her.
And she, in her turn, took it upon herself to break his resolve and control at every opportunity, teaching him to forfeit his designs and to receive her love.
For a brief time, there was no one but each other, no countries to rule, no insurmountable problems to solve, no duties, no calling. There was only each other and pure happiness. Nicolette had never imagined she could ever experience anything so encompassing outside of her music, but she had found it in love.
Alejandro’s attentiveness and the memory of the tranquil scene returned to her many times. They were very much in love, and they would return to the world and to their very real duties all too soon.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Come along, let's draw a veil
Over what is past and gone;
What is done can't be undone,
Let us welcome what's to come
—Giuseppe Verdi, La traviata
“Odd, don’t you think, Elly?” Walking the quaint cobblestone streets of San Ildefonso, Dr. Stanton turned to his wife. His slightly graying temples gave his coal-black hair a decided distinction.
“What is that, Jon?” she asked, studying her husband. Even after all these years, she couldn’t determine if he was in the scientific mindset that was responsible for changing the face of the world or if he was in one of his more whimsical moods.
“Oh, the twists and turns of life, the utter fluidity of it. No one fully grasps it.”
“You don’t say, dearest?” She was sure that she didn’t—nor the direction he was taking.
“Do you know the mistake most people make?”
“Hmmm…the mistake. Trusting the banking system?”
“The mistake most people make is that they believe the message they were taught at birth, they hold onto it, and they set the idea of themselves in stone.” He shook his head. “Nothing about us is set in stone. We have infinite possibilities in every moment.”
“What is it that you speak of, in particular, Jon?” asked Lady Elaina cautiously as she squeezed her husband’s hand, hoping that she would understand the answer. She had an exceptional grasp on mathematics, but she truly hoped this was not one of those occasions when she would have to utilize it.
“Oh, nothing too dramatic.” He shrugged. “Simply that I was a stable boy who shoveled manure on your estate. And now my granddaughter is married to the king of Spain.”
“Yes indeed, an odd turn of events, darling.” Lady Elaina smiled. She grew reflective, adding, “It is highly probable that you will have a great-grandson who will be the king of Spain and who will carry your blood to the throne.”
Jonathan Stanton laughed heartily, enjoying the joke. “Do you ever wish, Elly, that you could travel back in time and speak to the person you were? To offer them comfort?”
“Hmm…Yes, I know, Jon,” agreed Lady Elaina thoughtfully. “To ease the suffering of that long-ago person, a suffering one can still access.”
“I suppose it’s all for the best, Elly.” He shook his head. “The shock might have killed me.”
“Dr. Stanton, please! We are in public!” Lady Elaina smiled even as he took her in his strong arms and hugged her. She felt a rush of warmth through her body, and they resumed their walking hand in hand.
“It’s encouraging that such drastic changes can occur without my even being privy to them.” He laughed wholeheartedly, his body shaking. Dr. Jonathan Stanton turned to his wife, a sudden twinkle in his eye. “Would you like to walk back to the palace through the park and stop for an ice along the way, Elly?”
“Let’s,” she replied softly. Lady Elaina smiled up into her husband’s sapphire-blue eyes, striking against the gray temples. He was so…dashing.
Jon took his wife’s arm into his, and together they slowly walked the streets of San Ildefonso, lost in the reverie of what their next adventure would hold.
Chapter Fifty
What joy that will be
If the Gods think of us,
and give us children of our love
—Amadeus Wolfgang Mozart, The Magic Flute
Princess Sophia Celeste Isabella Yazmin Genevieve de Bonifácio, the first child of the king and queen of Spain, was born December 8, 1906.
King Alejandro held his baby daughter with fascination and love, unable to believe that she was his, that she did not belong to Spain but to him. For the second time in his life, he realized that there was something more important to him than his country. If hurting this child meant helping his country, he would not, he could not do it.
In this, he showed that he was different from his own parents.
He could not justify his personal allegiance, and it made no difference to him. This baby tore through everything he had been taught to believe. If he could not find a way to insure the continued existence of both, he would choose this baby every time.
As he stared into the loving eyes of his queen, a blissful expression on her face, he had the sense and the conviction that the waters would part for him. If he were devoted to doing the right thing, a way would reveal itself. He knew now that he had made these divisions in his mind unnecessarily.
&nbs
p; He returned his gaze to his baby daughter. He studied her hazel-green eyes, which were a combination of his wife’s eyes and his own. Alejandro knew with a certainty that this girl and any children to follow would not be leaving home at eight years of age. Sophia would live with her father until he reluctantly led her down the aisle to join her husband.
As he held his baby daughter, he became acutely aware of the similarity in his feelings for her and his feelings for his wife. Just as he had chosen Nicolette, despite believing at the time that she was not the best choice of a queen for his country, he now chose his daughter. He could do nothing else. His heart would not allow it.
Because, finally, he existed. He had discovered a living, breathing man with thoughts and feelings unique to his being. And they seemed to shower down upon him. He loved his queen, he loved his princess, he loved his country. He lived.
He still gave his heart to España, but now, because of Nicolette, he had a heart to give.
THE END
www.suzettehollingsworth.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Suzette Hollingsworth grew up in Wyoming and Texas, went to school in Tennessee (Sewanee), lived in Europe two summers, and now resides in beautiful Washington State with her cartoonist husband and five cats.
Suzette has written the Daughters of the Empire trilogy in which the daughter of each union is the heroine of the sequel novel, encountering along the way a British officer in Egypt (The Paradox), a Spanish prince in Madrid (The Serenade), and a World War II spy in Italy (The Conspiracy).
The author loves the elegance of language and subtle wit utilized by Georgette Heyer and Jane Austen and the personal connections and slower-paced lives of former times. Her greatest fantasy is a time machine, so she naturally believes that time travel is the most magical gift an author can offer. Other projects include a Sherlock Holmes anthology in which Mrs. Hudson’s niece soon learns that the Great Detective has more in store for her than washing jars and labeling specimens. Suzette also collaborates on a web-comic with her husband, Clint Hollingsworth, which has readers in sixty countries, www.startingfromscratchcomic.com.
Suzette’s hobbies are theatre, opera, and ballet as a viewer and snorkeling, belly dancing, and tropical vacations as a participant. She loves playing the flute and traveling with her husband. Her favorite music is opera, Little Richard, and bluegrass. She admits to being a little bit country and a little bit rock-n-roll with a passion for all things Jane Austen. Suzette also loves her Seattle gal pals and Girls’ Beach Party weekends with her Texas SHS graduating class.
Also by Suzette Hollingsworth
BookStrand Mainstream: Daughters of the Empire 1:
The Paradox: The Soldier and the Mystic
Available at
BOOKSTRAND.COM
www.BookStrand.com
The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 40
