Prince of Scandal

by Annie West

  Not when she was the woman who eight years ago had dragged him to hell.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘LUISA, you look so lovely!’ Tamsin said. ‘This pearly cream is wonderful with the golden tone of your skin.’

  ‘You think so?’ Luisa stood stiffly, uncomfortable in the full length gown of silk. The fitted bodice covered with cobweb-fine hand-made lace. The diadem of finely wrought gold and pearls.

  The bridal dress showcased the finest traditional Maritzian products. Lace from one province. Hand woven silk from another. The exquisite filigree gold choker necklace that made her throat seem elegant and impossibly fragile was by craftsmen in yet another province. Beaded slippers from still another.

  Only the bride hadn’t been involved in the design of her wedding clothes.

  Gingerly Luisa turned to the mirror, feeling a fraud under the weight of this charade.

  Yet the image awaiting her took her breath away. Could that really be her? A woman who till recently had spent her days in jeans and gumboots?

  ‘You look like a fairy princess.’ Tamsin shook a fold of embossed silk so the flaring skirt draped perfectly.

  ‘I don’t feel like it.’ Nausea churned in Luisa’s stomach. It was only through sheer willpower that she’d nibbled at a fruit platter for lunch. She whose appetite was always healthy!

  ‘Believe me.’ Tamsin clasped her hand briefly and smiled. ‘You’ll take everyone’s breath away. Especially Raul. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.’

  Luisa saw the other woman’s secret smile and wondered if she was thinking of her recent marriage to Prince Alaric, Raul’s distant cousin. It was clear that the big man with the steely jaw and face almost as handsome as Raul’s was deeply in love with his new English wife.

  For a moment Luisa let herself imagine what it would be like to marry for love. Burnt so badly years ago, she’d buried herself on the farm, shunning any hint of male interest. She’d longed to experience true love but had she been too craven to open herself to the possibility?

  The day Raul had saved her from falling and kissed her so tenderly she’d allowed herself to be swept along by his deep voice, his gentle hands and the unstoppable cravings that welled at his touch.

  For one fragile interlude she’d longed to believe something warm and special could grow from their union.

  Then there was his unexpected kindness, taking her to see her mother’s work.

  But the fantasy was too painful. It scraped too close to the bone for a woman who’d been chosen, not for love or respect. Not even for convenience. But because Raul had no other option!

  ‘It’s good of you to help me get ready.’ She sent a shaky smile in Tamsin’s direction. Though this wasn’t a romantic match it was her wedding day. The day women looked to their mother for support.

  Luisa had never missed her mum more.

  ‘It will be all right.’ Again Tamsin took her hand, chafing warmth into it. ‘I know how daunting it is marrying into a new world. Marrying royalty. But Raul will look after you. He’s like my Alaric. Strong and protective.’ She sent a speculative glance at Luisa. ‘And I suspect behind that well bred calm, very passionate.’

  Heat roared through Luisa’s cheeks, banishing the chill that had frozen her all day.

  Tamsin giggled, blushing herself. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just sometimes I feel like pinching myself. It all seems so unreal!’

  ‘I know what you mean.’ Tamsin was an outsider too—a commoner and a foreigner who’d married her prince in a love match that had intrigued everyone. But Tamsin had fallen in love. Luisa would face her royal marriage and the weight of public expectation without love to cushion the shock. Their circumstances were so different.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she added, grateful to this initially reserved but warm-hearted woman.

  ‘So am I! And when you settle in, after your honeymoon, I hope we can spend more time together.’

  Luisa nodded, not bothering to disabuse her. Raul was a workaholic. That was why the trip to the gallery had been such a lovely surprise. He wouldn’t take time off for a honeymoon. Not with a wife he didn’t really want.

  A wife who was simply a solution to a problem.

  A cold lump of lead settled in the pit of her belly as a soft knock sounded on the door.

  ‘It’s time, Your Highness.’

  The music swelled and the massive doors swung open and Luisa stepped over the threshold into the castle chapel.

  Multicoloured streams of light shone through ancient windows. A cloying wave of fragrance hit. Hothouse flowers and incense and a multitude of perfumes. Hundreds of faces turned to stare. She didn’t know a single one.

  A rising tide of panic clawed at her, urging her to turn tail and run, as fast and as far as she could. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her knees shook.

  She faltered, her hand curling into Alaric’s sleeve. He covered her hand with his and leaned close. ‘Luisa?’

  ‘This is a small wedding?’ Dazed, she saw heraldic banners, including some of the Maritzian red dragon, streaming from the lofty ceiling. The crowd murmured and it sounded like a roar.

  ‘Courage, little one. It’ll soon be over.’ He paced forward and she had no option but to follow. ‘Tamsin and I have a bet on who spots the most absurd hat. Weddings incite women to wear the most monstrous things on their heads, don’t you think?’

  His sotto voce patter continued all the way down the aisle, almost distracting her from the throng of hungry-eyed guests. Watching. Judging. Finding her wanting.

  Suddenly she caught a smile. Tamsin, in muted gold, giving her an encouraging nod. Behind her was another woman, platinum blonde, dripping jewels yet sour-mouthed.

  Then, abruptly, they were at the end of the aisle. Bands of steel squeezed the breath from her lungs as, with a sense of inescapable inevitability, she turned her head towards the dark figure she’d avoided since she entered.

  Raul, tall and heart-stoppingly handsome in a uniform of scarlet and black that made him look like the model for Prince Charming.

  Something in her chest rose and swelled. Was it possible that perhaps they could make this work? The other day they’d surely started building a fragile relationship.

  Then she read his expression. Austere, proud, stern. Not a scintilla of pleasure. A complete absence of anything that might one day turn into love. His mouth was a stern line, his jaw chiselled rock.

  She blinked quickly, hating herself because even now, faced with his indifference, she yearned for the tenderness he’d begun to show her.

  How could she? She knew what she was to him. How could she be so weak as to want the impossible?

  Luisa gulped. It was like swallowing shards of glass.

  Just as well she hadn’t allowed herself to pretend he reciprocated her inconvenient attraction.

  Her hand tightened, talon-like as Alaric ushered her forward. But Raul took her hand in his, his other hand at her elbow as she swayed.

  She had to quell this anxiety. She’d agreed to this. She looked away, to the mass of flowers by the altar: a riot of roses, orange blossom and lilies. Their scent was too pungent for her roiling stomach.

  The priest spoke but Luisa didn’t listen. She was thinking that at home lilies were traditional for funerals.

  ‘Who is that woman?’ Luisa watched the petite platinum blonde lean into Raul, her hand possessive on his arm. Her scarlet dress matched his jacket perfectly and her plunging neckline showed a stunning cleavage. She smiled up, her face hardly recognisable as the one that had scowled at Luisa in the chapel.

  ‘She wasn’t in the reception line,’ Luisa added.

  Raul stood on the other side of the reception room, his back to Luisa, but from here she’d almost swear the woman flirted with him. A spike of heat roared through her. Heat and anger. ‘Is she an ex-girlfriend?’

  Beside her Tamsin spluttered, choking on champagne.

  ‘Are you OK?’

 
; Tamsin waved her away. ‘I inhaled some bubbles. I’m not used to champagne.’

  Luisa knew the feeling. This evening she’d sipped some, standing beside Raul for a formal toast. The wine had tickled her senses and tingled all the way down her throat. But it was Raul’s presence beside her, like a wall of living heat, that had made her giddy. His stern expression had eased for a moment and his lips had curved in a heady smile as he toasted her. The impact had knocked her for six and Luisa had felt as if she were floating.

  As if this were a real wedding and she a bride smitten with her handsome husband! Instead of a woman blackmailed into cooperating. That still rankled.

  Luisa stiffened. It scared her that Raul affected her so. That she might be jealous of the woman pawing at his jacket. It should be impossible, yet …

  ‘You don’t know her?’

  Finally Tamsin looked up. A flush tinted her cheeks.

  ‘Tamsin?’ Her new friend’s expression made Luisa tense.

  ‘The woman with Raul? No one you need worry about.’ The words came out in a rush. ‘She lives in the US now.’

  ‘But who is she?’

  Tamsin took another quick sip of wine. ‘That’s Ana. Raul’s stepmother.’

  Stepmother?

  ‘But she’s too young!’ She didn’t act like a stepmother. The other woman was flirting outrageously. Luisa’s only consolation came from the fact Raul stood as stiffly as he had through the wedding ceremony, though he inclined his head as if listening intently.

  ‘I think she and Raul are about the same age.’

  Through her shock Luisa heard Tamsin’s intense discomfort. She saw Tamsin’s gaze dart away as if seeking a diversion and uneasiness stirred.

  Intuition told her there was something Tamsin wasn’t saying. Luisa turned back, finally noticing how the guests kept their distance from the pair. No one had approached Raul since his stepmother had claimed his attention but they all watched speculatively. An undercurrent of whispers eddied around them.

  The frisson of uneasiness grew to stark suspicion.

  No! Luisa refused to draw conclusions about Raul’s relationships. No matter what her eyes told her.

  Yet she couldn’t stifle a feeling of betrayal.

  As if sensing her scrutiny, Raul turned sharply, his gaze skewering her. Fire seared her blood and she felt as if she’d been caught out spying on him.

  But she had every right to be here. This was her wedding reception. Her day. Even if it wasn’t her choice.

  Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat. Today should be the happiest day of her life!

  If she didn’t laugh at the absurdity surely she’d cry.

  Holding Raul’s eyes, she lifted her chin and downed the rest of her champagne.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, Tamsin, I’d better introduce myself to my mother-in-law.’ Luisa passed her glass to a waiter and picked up her skirts, grateful now for the formal dress that kept her posture perfect and made guests move aside as she stalked forward.

  She was magnificent. She cut a swathe through the crowd as if it didn’t exist, her eyes locked with his.

  A pulse of heat thudded deep in his belly at the sight of her: jaw angled, eyes glittering, chest swelling against the demure V neckline. She skimmed across the polished floor, her train sweeping magnificently behind her. Tiny bursts of fire peeped from beneath her hem as her jewel-encrusted slippers caught the light. It was as if she set off sparks with each step.

  Absently Raul brushed Ana’s clawing hand away. He’d done what he had to—accepted her presence publicly. But he’d had enough.

  He’d had enough of her eight years ago!

  He barely registered her protest as he strode instead towards the woman he’d just married and pleasure surged.

  All day tension had ridden him. Worries for the state. Fury at Ana’s return. Discomfort at the idea of marrying. Guilt at forcing Luisa’s hand. The need to bury his thoughts deep behind a cloak of royal calm. Now the tension morphed into something that had nothing to do with concerns and everything to do with his long-suppressed needs.

  And with the challenge he read in his bride’s expression, her posture, her firmed lips.

  Her eyes flashed azure fire and heat danced in his veins. He drew a breath, the first free breath all day.

  He’d done his duty in marrying. Now he wanted to forget about duty, about diplomacy and building bridges with intransigent politicians and soothing the bruised egos of his father’s cronies. About his own doubts.

  He wanted … Luisa.

  A smile cracked his carefully schooled features.

  ‘Luisa, you look enchanting.’ Her pace propelled her forward and he took full advantage, stepping before her at the last moment and putting a hand to her waist, ostensibly to steady her. Through the lace and silk he felt warmth and lithe muscle and the deep exhalation of her breath.

  He grasped her other hand in his and lifted it to his mouth. Her eyes blazed and he almost smiled at the provocation in her glare. Instead he turned her hand and pressed his lips to her wrist. He heard her breath catch and a satisfying tremor rippled through her. Slowly he moved his mouth, kissing her palm and touching his tongue to the erogenous zone at its centre.

  Her eyes widened and he felt pleasure tug through his belly. She tried to draw her hand away but he held her.

  ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your mother?’

  He read the doubt and hurt pride in her eyes and silently applauded her front.

  ‘You mean my father’s second wife. Not my mother.’

  ‘My mistake.’ She bit the words out precisely with her even white teeth. ‘You two looked so close …’

  Little cat.

  This was what he’d missed. Much as he enjoyed having his plans go smoothly and the tantalising sense of closeness he’d experienced with Luisa now and then, he’d missed her vibrancy. From the first she’d sparked with energy and defiance. She’d obstructed him and argued and defied him. Even consenting to wed she’d been proud as an empress.

  He enjoyed her sassiness when she stood up to him. He’d grown accustomed to fireworks. He enjoyed them more than he’d thought possible. Especially when it wasn’t argument that fuelled the conflagration.

  Even the hint of jealousy in her tone pleased him. Did her desire match his? A bolt of excitement shot through him. He recalled her passion, the way she melted in his arms. How she watched him when she thought he didn’t see.

  He leaned forward and whispered, ‘I’m not going to introduce her. You wouldn’t like her.’

  She gaped at his honesty. He wanted to kiss those lush lips till she forgot how to speak. He wanted that sizzling energy channelled in more satisfying directions.

  Urgent heat swirled in his loins as he visualised it.

  ‘Why not?’ Luisa looked stunned.

  ‘Because she’s not at all nice.’ It surprised him how much pleasure there was in saying it out loud, even if in a murmur for Luisa’s ears alone. How long he’d been constrained by the need to keep up appearances!

  ‘But surely I need to meet her.’

  ‘Hardly. She’s leaving for LA tonight. Grabbing a lift with her newest boyfriend, a Hollywood producer.’

  Raul didn’t even feel the usual simmering anger. Ana couldn’t be bothered to feign mourning for her dead husband. Their marriage had been a farce, his smitten father turning a blind eye to anything in his young wife’s behaviour that might dent his royal pride.

  Raul was tired of pretending his father’s marriage was anything but a sham. His father was dead and his ego couldn’t be battered any more. Ana didn’t deserve more than the merest observance of courtesy. Her attempt just now to wheedle more cash from the royal coffers had been expected but her timing had surprised even Raul, who’d believed himself inured to her grasping ways.

  ‘Come,’ he said, turning Luisa with him towards the dais where the royal throne rested. She grabbed her wide skirts and followed. The scent of lavender that accompanied her move
ments was refreshing after Ana’s cloying perfume. He breathed deep and helped his wife up the steps.

  The flush colouring Luisa’s cheeks was charming. His gaze descended her throat, gorgeous in its gold filigree and pearl choker, down to where her breasts rose and fell rapidly. His palms itched to touch.

  Leaving the reception early would cause a stir. But he wasn’t in the mood to worry about protocol. After years acceding to duty and convention, trying to compensate for the trauma of earlier royal scandal, Raul chose for the first time to flout tradition.

  It felt good. The gossips could go hang.

  He reached for his wife’s hand, enjoying the way it fitted his own so neatly. Enjoying her presence beside him.

  ‘Highnesses, ladies and gentlemen.’ Raul addressed the assembly. When he’d finished the sound of clapping made him turn. There were Alaric and Tamsin, smiling broadly. The applause spread.

  Raul raised a hand in acknowledgement, then turned to Luisa. ‘It’s time we left.’

  Her eyes rounded but a moment later she conjured a smile and a wave for their audience. She really was superb.

  A moment later Raul ushered her out through the double doors behind the throne, held open by footmen.

  Then they were walking down the private corridor, her hand still in his. The doors closed behind them, muting the swell of applause.

  Satisfaction filled him. He was alone with his bride.

  It happened so quickly Luisa was dazed as he led her through the labyrinth of corridors.

  Only two things were real. Raul’s warm hand enfolding hers and the fact she was married. Even in the chapel it hadn’t seemed real. But hearing Raul tell their guests to enjoy their wedding hospitality, seeing the curiosity, the goodwill, even the envy on some of the faces staring up at her, it had suddenly hit.

  She’d bound herself to this man. No turning back.

  Her spurt of indignation over his stepmother dwindled. Now she felt only shock.

  Raul’s hand tightened and sensation streaked through her.

  No, she felt more than shock. A tiny bud of something curled tight inside. Something that kept her hand in his even when she knew she should withdraw it. Something that shortened her breath as Raul halted before an unfamiliar door then stood aside, waiting for her to precede him.