Nicholas turned his cold eyes upon her, and she shivered at the threat she saw there.
“My brother is not at home,” he informed them. “Consequently you will have to speak to me.”
Alex frowned. “But we already made arrangements, and we were assured we would speak to Randolph directly.”
Those blue eyes narrowed with a dark fury that unsettled her. How bold he was in front of her benefactor.
“Be that as it may, I wish to speak to you in private, Lady Alexandra,” he said. “If you will excuse us, sir.”
It was an arrogant request from a disgraced son of a tyrant king, and Alexandra felt Mr. Carmichael stiffen beside her.
“That would be highly inappropriate, sir,” he said. “I am here as Lady Alexandra’s guardian. Any discussions you wish to have with her will occur in front of me.”
A muscle flicked at Nicholas’s jaw, which suggested he was highly agitated, as if she were the one who had betrayed their love that morning.
Oh, how she longed to set him straight.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Carmichael,” she said, “but I believe I will speak to Prince Nicholas in private, as he has requested.”
“You can wait in the library,” Nicholas added. “Spencer, show him in, and bring him a brandy. We may be a while.”
Not entirely comfortable with her decision to speak to Nicholas in private—for she might throw a rather large and expensive piece of crystal at him—Alexandra nevertheless did not look back as she followed him to the drawing room.
He waited for her to enter, then shut the doors behind him.
With crazed, fuming emotions, Alex regarded him from across the room. “How dare you?” Honestly, she was fit to be tied!
He strode forward. “How dare I do what? Wait two hours in front of your house like a lovesick fool? Or perhaps it was the fact that I have not produced my brother this evening, when that is clearly what you came for.” He stood less than an arm’s length away and stared into her eyes with angry disbelief. “Was I not good enough for you?” he asked. “Did you wake up this morning and change your mind? Did you decide you would prefer to be queen after all?”
Alexandra struggled not to stumble backwards into the deep abyss of her passion for this man. He was too handsome, too forthright, and the way he looked at her now almost made her lose her head.
“You seduced me,” she said. “And you neglected to mention how you seduced and ruined another young lady at the Hanover Hotel barely six weeks ago. What have you to say about that?”
His head drew back in surprise. “That is why you did not come? Where did you hear this? And when?”
“Just this morning,” she explained, “when I had my hand on the door and was about to leave everything behind and destroy my reputation for the blind love I felt for you. But my stepmother stopped me just in time, thank God for that.”
The anger in his eyes drained away like water through a sieve and was replaced by something else. Relief. Or perhaps it was joy.
Joy?
“Oh, my darling,” he said, taking a step closer. “Why did you not tell me? Why did you not come outdoors and confront me?”
She took an abrupt step back and held up a hand. “Stay where you are, sir, and do not call me darling. That is not what I am. Not to you. And how could I tell you? Why should I have? It was all there in black and white. I did not wish to hear your side of the story. I am quite sure you would have come up with some convenient explanation to turn me blind and infatuated again.”
“You’re not blind,” he insisted. “You see the truth. You have always seen the truth, which is why I fell in love with you.”
He closed the distance between them, slid his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her into his arms and, despite everything, the nearness of him sent a crashing wave of love into her body.
The sensation broke her will, and she gasped.
“You hurt me,” she told him, revealing far more than she ever intended while she tried to push him away. “I hated you, and I hate you now. I came here to speak to Randolph. Why are you doing this? I have important things to say to him.”
“Then say them,” he whispered in her ear.
He held her even tighter—so tight she could not move—and all the fight drained out of her. “Please let me go, Nicholas.”
Drawing back slightly and cupping her face in both his hands, he gazed into her eyes with what appeared to be some amusement and shook his head.
“You don’t understand, do you?”
“Understand what?”
He chuckled softly. “I have no intention of letting you go, Alexandra, because I know you are in love with me, as I am in love with you. You are the most exquisite creature I have ever beheld in my life, and I want you as my wife. My queen. I did not do those things that caused you pain. That was my brother. I would never hurt you. Do you understand now?”
She frowned up at him. “No, because you are making no sense, Nicholas. Is this some sort of trick? What are you saying?”
He stepped back, spread his arms wide, and regarded her with complete seriousness. “Please do not be angry with me. I never meant to hurt you, but I must tell you the truth now. I am not Nicholas. I am Randolph.”
A jolt of shock shook her from within as she stood motionless, staring at him, not sure what to think or feel.
Thank God, after a few heart-stopping seconds of shock and denial, good breeding intervened and she dropped into a curtsy, as if meeting him for the first time. “Your Royal Highness.”
Before he could utter a single word in return, she rose quickly to her full height and slapped him hard across the face.
“How could you?” she shouted while another, more rational part of her brain knew she was the quintessential pot calling the kettle black and had no right to be angry with him, for she had lied, too. In fact, she was still lying to him now.
Yet she was a woman who had suffered a broken heart that very morning, and unfortunately, rationality had little to do with anything. She simply needed to boil over and boil very hard.
“How could you lie to me like that and pretend to be someone you are not? You tricked me from the beginning. You tricked everyone.”
He did not appear surprised by her outburst.
Recovering from the slap, Rand reached out to pull her into his arms again and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I knew it was wrong, but I had to make sure I could find a woman who would love me for myself, not because I am a future king. You are that woman. You were prepared to throw everything aside for me when you believed I would not sit on the throne. And you were jealous and hurt this morning when you thought I had seduced another. You have no idea how that touches me.”
With her heart pounding wildly in her chest, Alex let him hold her for a moment while she struggled to make sense of the situation.
He was the future king, and he wanted her to be his queen. She had passed his test, and with complete authenticity, because she truly would have thrown everything away for him.
For those reasons, and so many more, she could not help but celebrate the fact that he was not that rakish libertine who had seduced and ruined another duke’s daughter six weeks ago. That was not him. He was not that man, and she had no reason to doubt his intentions. He truly was the man she had come to adore, future king or not. And he loved her. He loved her!
“I don’t know what to say,” she replied, with no notion of how to proceed from here. It was exactly what she’d wanted, to marry the Crown Prince of Petersbourg, and it appeared she had somehow unwittingly succeeded in that quest.
Though all of that was not at the forefront of her mind at the moment. All that mattered was that her dearest love was holding her in his arms and declaring himself and there was no more cause to resist. He was no longer forbidden. He was the golden prize.
He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her passionately. Her body grew instantly aroused, and
she met his kiss with equal ardor and abandon.
She had wanted this man from the first moment on the terrace at Carlton House, and all the tender touches and sweet kisses and intimate encounters since then had fueled her passions into a roaring hot blaze she could no longer control.
She sighed with delight, and his kiss turned into a smile upon her lips.
“To be alone with you,” he said, “is a luxury even I, as a royal prince, could not afford before now. But here you are, and you know the truth. I believe I will go mad if I have to stop touching you.”
“As will I,” she replied with mounting desires. “Is the door locked?” she asked, imagining that Mr. Carmichael might come stomping through the palace, determined to preserve her reputation.
It was the last thing she wanted: to hear his fist pounding on the door when all she wanted was more of this magical kissing—and a chance to explain herself.
To tell Randolph everything.
“Yes,” he replied. “It is locked.”
No longer Nicholas. He was Randolph now.
Sweeping her off her feet, he carried her to the sofa and laid her down upon the soft cushions, then covered her body with his own.
“I apologize,” he said, “for taking such liberties with you, but I don’t know how much time we have left before your benefactor will decide this is unacceptable, and I must have you, Alex.”
“I want you, too,” she breathlessly replied as his mouth covered hers in a passionate kiss that crushed all sense of propriety.
His lips blazed a trail down the side of her neck while his hand slid across her rib cage and down her hip, over the top of her thigh to her knee until she could hardly bear the pleasure of it.
As he settled himself between her legs, she was astonished by the instinctive carnal knowledge she possessed as she wrapped her legs around his hips and hugged his body close.
The fire in the hearth snapped and crackled, and she became more aware of the sound of her own labored breathing and his uninhibited groans of pleasure as he thrust his body closer.
Randolph rose up, braced his upper body on both arms to look down at her. She regarded him in the magic of the firelight.
Should she tell him to stop? Yes, of course she should. This was beyond proper. But when his mouth found hers again, so hot and luscious, she couldn’t bring herself to do so.
His lips traveled lower to her cleavage, and he laid soft kisses along her neckline, causing her skin to tingle hotly with longing. Then he dipped his tongue into the tight confines of her corset.
“Randolph, please,” she whispered, wiggling against the inconceivable pleasure of it.
“I must taste you.” His voice grew low and husky with desire. “Did you say yes, yet?” he asked. “I can’t remember. I’ve been very presumptuous, assuming you want to be my wife.”
“Of course I want to be your wife,” she replied, “but there are things I must tell you first.” But she couldn’t think. She could barely breathe from the excitement of his kisses and the spellbinding touch of his hands.
“You can tell me anything.”
He cupped her bottom and pulled her tight up against his pelvis, pulsing smoothly and firmly. Their bodies moved together, and soon he was sliding his hand up under her skirts.
Alex gasped with pleasure and spread her legs wide, wanting to do nothing but coast down this tantalizing river of desire.
“That’s it, darling,” he whispered. “Relax for me. I only want to touch you.”
“It feels so good,” she replied.
“That’s because we are meant to be together.”
He used the palm of his hand to stroke the tingling core of her desire, and a tidal wave of pleasure washed over her.
Nothing had ever felt so good, and her virgin body convulsed in tiny spasms of delight.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“Yes.” She squeezed her eyes shut and floated away into an enchanted oblivion.
“Then let me try something else.”
Gently he slid a finger into her depths while she clutched at his shoulders, digging her nails into the fabric of his jacket and squeezing it in her fists.
“I feel your virginity,” he said. “How innocent you are. Am I hurting you?” He breathed the question into her ear and made her clench tight with yearning.
“No.”
Her voice sounded different. It was gruff and low in her throat.
“I want to touch you, too,” she told him, thrusting her hips forward and running her hands down the length of his back to his strong, muscular buttocks.
His mouth covered hers in a devouring kiss of ravenous hunger, while his fingers still worked below. In the heat of her passions, she was vaguely aware of his other hand working the fastenings of his trousers and lifting her skirts.
It was all so intoxicating—this need she felt deep between her legs. It was like some kind of trance, and she couldn’t resist the urge to push her hips forward.
Then, all at once, he was there.
Their bodies went still.
Her eyes fluttered open, for she was intensely aware of his manhood pushing against her, with no more barrier of clothing between them.
He was firm and hot. She could feel the silky tip of his erection poised at the entrance to her body.
“Let me inside you,” he whispered. “I give you my word I will marry you as soon as it can be arranged. Will you have me, Alex? Please say yes. I will take precautions to prevent a child, but I must have your pledge. I will not let you change your mind again.”
“I won’t change it,” she promised. “For I, too, must have this.”
A tear spilled from her eye, which she quickly wiped away.
She remembered very clearly the last time she cried, when her adoptive father passed away. Since that day, she had endured the cold cruelty of the real world and had learned many things that caused her heart to freeze over with ice. But she was dripping wet at the moment, melting like a sentimental fool in this man’s arms. He made her remember how it felt to be hopeful and grateful.
And loved.
“I need to tell you things,” she said.
“You can tell me anything.”
Then suddenly he pushed into her, deeply and thickly, and the pain was more than she could bear.
Her body tensed. She sucked in a breath. She thought she had been prepared, but she was not. She had no notion it would hurt so much, yet she was not sorry. She did not want him to stop, nor did she regret any of it.
“Are you all right?” he asked, holding very still while he touched her tearstained cheek with the tender comfort of his lips.
She managed to nod, though she was finding it difficult to breathe, for he filled her so completely.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“A little.”
“It will go away soon.” He distracted her with a deep kiss of unfathomable sensation.
She touched her tongue to his and soon he was moving over her with smooth and masterful grace while her body melted into the warmth of his arms and, just as he promised, all the pain disappeared.
“Oh, Randolph,” she sighed. “I never imagined…”
She had come here tonight prepared to negotiate for political power, but instead she was lying with the man her heart truly wanted and her body and soul were somehow dissolving into a heated pile of rapture that cared nothing for politics or crowns.
Randolph’s pace began to quicken, and she opened her eyes to watch him in the firelight.
He was looking down at her, clearly overcome by his own desires. A film of perspiration shone on his forehead and he breathed heavily, pushing into her faster and more vigorously. Then he shuddered and convulsed and pulled out of her quickly, rising up onto his hands and knees.
“God,” he groaned, taking hold of himself and convulsing again.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, for she had no knowledge of these things.
He glanced down. “I’m not
sure I was quick enough to withdraw. I didn’t want to.” His eyes met hers. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ll be married soon.”
A glow of happiness smoldered within her, and she grabbed hold of his neckcloth to pull him close for another kiss. Their tongues collided and meshed, and her heart raced with excitement.
“Oh, Randolph, I didn’t know it would be like this.”
“You must call me Rand,” he replied. “It’s what my friends and family call me.”
“And which am I?”
He returned her smile with a mischievous grin that touched her all over again. “You will soon be both, but you are also something more.”
“And what is that? Or am I fishing for compliments?” She coquettishly arched her back and hung on to his lapels.
He chuckled as he fastened his trousers. “You shall never be in need of compliments from me, darling, for I will worship you until the day I die.”
After he helped her lower her skirts, she snuggled close to him on the sofa. They lay together for a long while in the quiet drawing room, listening to the fire crackling in the hearth, stroking each other gently, kissing dreamily.
Alex cleared her throat. “Rand,” she said. “There is something I must tell you.” Dread vibrated down her spine at the thought of it and she wished she had told him sooner, but she had become so distracted by the pleasures he offered.
“What is it?” he asked.
She leaned up on an elbow to meet his gaze, and he regarded her with affection. It gave her the strength she needed to continue.
“There is something you don’t know about me, but before I confess it, I must assure you that everything that has happened between us has been real, and what I feel for you is genuine. I adored you even before I knew you were the future king. Will you remember that above all else?”
He shifted uncomfortably beside her, then leaned up on an elbow to hear the rest.
Chapter Sixteen
“I was not born in England,” Alexandra told him.
Randolph inclined his head curiously.
“And I am not the true daughter of the Duke of St. George,” she continued. “I was born in Switzerland, but was smuggled out of that country when I was only three days old and adopted by the duke.” She paused while a gust of wind howled down the chimney and attacked the flames in the hearth. “I knew nothing of this until the duke died six years ago. That is when Mr. Carmichael came to my door.”
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