by Genia Avers
The manager held her hand to her ear. “What?”
She groaned. The manager couldn’t hear her above the orchestra but she dared not speak louder. If anyone on the other side of the curtain recognized her voice, Jalakin would kill her.
She waved her hands frantically, trying to signal the stage manager to kill the music. He nodded and motioned to the conductor. The curtain started to rise.
Bockle. The stage manager had misunderstood.
* * * *
A blast of music echoed through the great hall. Energy invaded Kamber’s body.
It made no sense. He had no enthusiasm for the dance, even though every living male had heard about Mydrian waltzers. In the past, he might have felt privileged to watch the sensual spectacle, but now, it didn’t seem right somehow. Being aroused by someone other than his intended on the evening before his vows was just wrong.
The lights dimmed and the curtain rose. A spotlight appeared.
The creature of his fantasies started to move.
What the…
He dug his fingernail into his palm, believing he must be asleep and dreaming on the very comfortable Mydrian bed linens. He forgot his boredom as a fabulous nymph floated across the floor. The agony of his impending nuptials evaporated and he allowed the movement to mesmerize, tantalize.
He felt connected. Every fiber of his being came to life.
He shifted in his seat, grateful for the dinner table that hid the evidence of his body’s reaction. He wondered if the female held the rest of the Gatsle party equally enraptured, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the dancing creature long enough to find out.
Her face was hidden by an exotic mask of blue and purple feathers, but the smoldering eyes peered directly at him from two embellished slits. Silver eyes. Hypnotic eyes. The eyes from the window.
He sat straighter. She wore more clothes than the females in his country did when they went about their daily activities, but the dancer moved with such fluidity, the fabric of her garments clung provocatively, as if she wore nothing at all. Every flick of her wrist and every shift of her hips sent waves of seduction crashing into his body. Each movement proved more alluring than the last.
He wanted her.
The crowd faded from his consciousness and she danced for him. For him alone. The lady rolled her shoulders and Kamber wanted to kiss her breasts. She gyrated her hips and he wanted to pull her body against his erection. He’d been the target of seduction most of his life, but he’d never been so thoroughly spellbound. A goddess had descended to reward him for sacrificing his life to the drudgery of marriage. If only he could pursue this dancing beauty, life would be bliss.
He gulped when the music ceased. He didn’t want the dance to end. Ever.
As he focused all his energy on the bright lights that evaporated the darkness, he saw spots. If he didn’t get a grip, he’d mimic a prepubescent boy and explode.
Kamber stared at the curtains for a long time. His sexual need didn’t diminish. It grew. The waltzer had disappeared but his arousal remained.
He heard laughter, but it took several seconds before he realized that it was Remington who hooted. When he turned to look at his old pal, Remmy laughed at him, not with him.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” Remington chuckled again. “I do believe Mr. Righteous is lusting over the waltzer when he’s to wed someone else in the morning.”
His friend had never spoken truer words. As much as he wanted to be angry at Remington, he could only be irritated with himself. He hated his father because of secret trysts, but for the first time, he had an inkling of how Rothart must feel, trapped in a marriage he didn’t want.
“God help me, Remmy, I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”
Remington stopped laughing. “Relax, laddie. I was only razzing you. Maybe it won’t be so bad. If Subena’s truly the most beautiful female in Mydrias, she must indeed be spectacular. Seems beyond comprehension, but your bride will be even more alluring than the little dancing girl, who is thus far, the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever encountered.”
Kamber felt his face turn crimson. He, too, felt he’d met a goddess. As asinine as it sounded, he felt like he’d fallen in love.
Not possible. It had been lust—the purest and simplest kind of lust.
“How do you know she’s gorgeous, you big, dumb, lummox? The dancer wore a mask.” To him, that hadn’t mattered in the least.
Remington chuckled. “Wasn’t looking at her face, laddie. Even so, if your bride is more beautiful—”
“Subena may be beautiful, my friend, but I doubt she will be one-thousandth as sensual. Everyone I’ve met respects the empress’s daughter, but even her admirers hint that she’s a cold piece of stone and cares only about her technology projects.”
The big man shook his head. “Can’t be right. She’s willin’ to marry the likes of you to save her people.”
“Maybe.” Remington had a point, but it made Subena’s coldness and self-sacrificing seem worse somehow. She could care about the masses, but never him. “She must be uptight. Even her sisters begged me to teach her how to have fun.”
He growled as he thought about the female to whom he must pledge faithfulness. “Like she’d let me teach her anything. I’m to be shackled with a brainy mannequin who scorns the likes of me.”
“Be fair, prince. You’re no prize.”
His jaw grew more crimson. Remmy spoke the truth, but he’d hoped to find a mate who would see something good in him.
Remington chuckled, grating on his already sour mood. “I’ve hit a nerve, laddie. I hope you haven’t been lamenting getting rid of that vicious little tart you left behind.”
“I haven’t.” Not once. The scratches Rekita had carved into his back prior to his departure had only recently healed—and he healed quickly. He’d started to avoid her, both physically and in spirit, long before his trip to Mydrias. Maybe it was because of her infernal complaining about his mandatory marriage or her latest hints about a pregnancy—as if that were even possible. She was not his true mate.
He’d tried to tell Rekita it was over when he departed, but he wasn’t sure she’d listened—she never listened. To comfort her, he’d ended up sleeping with her again. Colossal mistake.
When he returned to Gatsle, he expected her to be yet another of his many problems. He cursed his privileged life and the albatrosses it placed around his royal neck. “I need some air.”
“What’s your rush, laddie? The night’s young and you aren’t shackled yet.”
Kamber grabbed a glass from a passing attendant and drained it, wishing the weak Mydrian brew was stronger. People called his name, but he headed for the doors, desperate to get away from the entertainment chamber.
He stood on the balcony and gazed at the stars for several minutes. The celestial bodies glimmered as wondrously in this foreign land as they did at home. However miserable his marriage might be, he could not regret his trip. Nor did he resent the treaty between his country and this beautiful land. The people he met surprised him. They radiated with warmth and showed him a carefree existence his own people could never have imagined. If only he’d been in a better humor to appreciate Mydrias.
An open alliance with the country would create new opportunities for education and medicine for his people. Like his father, he’d denied that Gatsle needed such things, but now, he could see differently. Maybe the females in Gatsle could learn to dance.
That damned dancing girl again. He needed to purge the temptress from his mind.
Hellation. He doubted he’d ever be able to rid her from his thoughts. Without speaking a single word, she’d ensnared him completely. He suspected she’d be the one in his mind as he shared his wedding night with his new bride.
He picked up a small stone from the balcony, intending to toss it into the pool below when Remington slapped him soundly on his back, knocking the pebble from his hand.
“Are you still moping?”
>
“Gads, Remmy. Am I never free of you?”
“No, you lucky cur. I’ll forever be nearby to kick your ass and save you from yourself.” The large man rumbled with mirth, his voice deep and melodic. “What’s more, I have a surprise for the lonesome lord.” Remington’s chuckling penetrated his gloom and Kamber felt some of his melancholy melt.
“A surprise? Let me guess, you’ve found a replacement and I’m no longer the future king of Gatsle?”
“Even better, lad. I’ve found the female. And I saw no tattoo on her wrist, so she must be single.”
“What female?”
“The dancer, you dolt. Don’t pretend you don’t wish to see her again.”
Dread quickly replaced Kamber’s initial delight. “I can’t take another to bed on the night of my wedding ceremony.”
“Not on the night of your wedding, silly boy. On the night before your ceremony. Have one last fling, laddie. You deserve it.” Remington slapped him on the back again, knocking the wind from his lungs as he gave a hearty cackle. “You’re lucky I didn’t decide to pursue her me-self.”
The big man stopped laughing and his eyes widened. “I’ve heard all the ladies in this country dance like that. I can’t even imagine such a heaven. Maybe we should live here after you wed.”
Kamber smiled at his friend’s tomfoolery. “Pray tell, old man. How did you find her?”
Remington stretched his six foot, eleven and one-half inch frame and his massive girth grew even taller in pretended outrage. “You think old Remmy cannot get a lady’s attention?”
He chuckled. “Seriously, Remmy. How’d you find her?”
“’Twas simple. I just asked one of the attendants if I could speak to the dancing lady. The lass went and fetched her. She’s waiting in the main courtyard.”
“The attendant?”
“No, you blasted fool. The dancer. You best not keep her waiting.”
Chapter Eight
Kamber hid in the shadows for several seconds, watching the dancer as she lingered near the fountain. Her face glowed in the moonlight; she was lovelier than he’d imagined a female could be. Definitely the same person he’d seen in the window.
Her beauty startled him when he’d seen her from a distance—even with a mask. At closer range, she made him dizzy. An abundance of long beautiful hair curled and danced around angelic cheekbones. Full lips that begged to be kissed pursed in an expression he did not understand. She seemed sad.
He could relate.
Kamber wanted to touch her, but touching would require moving and he feared movement would break the spell. He felt content to stare, to drink in her exquisiteness and forget about wedding ceremonies, wars, and treaties. Looking at her would be enough.
He hadn’t made a sound, but she jerked her face in his direction. Had she sensed his presence?
Not possible. Mydrians possessed no ancient skills.
“My lady.” He approached her, took her hand and raised it to his lips. She had a well manicured, but not pampered, hand. He saw a slight scratch on one finger and one nail looked shorter than the rest, as if recently broken.
The lady uses her hands. He suddenly felt curious about what she did when she wasn’t dancing.
As his lips touched her skin, jolts of energy coursed through his entire body. He felt himself becoming aroused. She jerked her hand away as though she’d touched a flame.
Ah, she felt it too.
“There’s no need to call me ‘my lady.’ We have no caste system in Mydrias.”
Her voice echoed like a song, as delightful as the rest of her. “What shall I call you?”
“It matters not. Your man said you wanted to see me, Your Majesty. Pray tell, what do you want of me on the night before your wedding?”
He stepped backward, surprised by her hostility. The Mydrian people were the friendliest he’d ever encountered, most surprising given the centuries of hostilities between the countries. Even folks who didn’t know he was a prince had treated him with great courtesy. Why was this female so frosty?
He assumed Remington had already arranged an interlude and he’d decided he would make love to her. One last pleasure.
The dancer didn’t seem amenable.
Kamber shifted, trying to regain his footing. He didn’t know how to react after his renowned charm had failed. “I-I simply wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your dancing.” What was wrong with him? He never stuttered.
She smiled, making him feel like a star had fallen to the ground for the sole purpose of dazzling him. Perhaps he’d only imagined her hostility.
“That’s all? Then I will bid you goodnight.” It took Kamber a moment to process her words. He couldn’t believe she’d already started walking toward the building.
“Wait.” He hurried to her side.
The look she flashed made him regret his impulsive plea. “What do you want, sire? Surely you do not expect a female loyal to the empress’s daughter to share a romantic evening with you? With her fiancé?”
She’d just expressed his exact hope but the look of revulsion on her face squashed his ardor. She couldn’t know that he’d planned to seduce her. Could she?
“No.” He didn’t recognize his own mumbling voice. “Of course not.”
Unexpectedly, the dancer smiled, disarming him again. She moved closer, stopping only inches from his body, and lifted a slender arm. She stroked his cheek, her touch light and enticing.
“Really? When I was dancing, I could have sworn you wanted me.” Her eyes briefly darted to his lower tunic. “Yes, I’m sure you wanted me.”
He wanted to kiss the smirk off her face. He cursed his groin for falling under the influence of the fickle female. Never in all his thirty seasons had anyone made him feel so inept. “Yes, I wanted you. Rather I want you. But…” He paused to gather his thoughts. She raised an eyebrow.
“But…” Kamber tried again. “That doesn’t mean I would act upon my desire. You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Curiosity consumed me, that’s all. Please forgive me if I’ve offended you.” He cursed his weakness again.
She studied him for several seconds. “Curious? Tell me, prince. What is it you are curious about?”
She’d made him feel unworthy, yet he still wanted her. He wanted all of her, not just a quick sating of his lust. Not just a mere conquest. He wanted her—for keeps.
He certainly couldn’t say that. Nor could he say that her lips made him so curious he wanted to cover them with his own. He dared not tell her that his hands were curious about the feel of her silken curls or that he wanted to know if her breasts would feel as amazing as he imagined.
Kamber gulped, hating himself for his hunger, yet unable to focus on anything else. Only one option remained. He must speak the truth.
“I’m sorry, my lady.” He couldn’t believe the way his voice rattled. “I marry tomorrow and when I saw you tonight, I realized I must give up on finding someone as beautiful as yourself. Lest you think I’m blinded by lust, and there is that in abundance, I sense you are even more beautiful on the inside. For a few minutes, I wanted to be…alone with you. I was curious as to how that would feel.”
He looked directly into her mesmerizing eyes—eyes with a luminous quality that challenged the splendor of all the moons. He watched, willing her to understand. She lowered her lashes, effectively shutting him out.
After a few seconds, she raised her head and returned his stare. “So you do not wish to marry our princess, my lord?”
“Regrettably, I do not.”
“Is there someone else?”
“Not really.” He wondered why he hadn’t just said “no.”
“Not really?” She laughed but she didn’t sound amused. “So the things we’ve heard about you are true?”
“What things have you heard?”
“You are renowned for your…prowess. ’Tis said you kept your mistress, even after your engagement. And now, you flirt with me.” She shook her head, sending her h
air into a fan that seemed to catch and reflect the iridescence of the moonlight. “You see, my lord, you cannot escape your reputation, even in Mydrias.”
He transferred his weight from one foot to the other. Embarrassment gave way to irritation. “I cannot see anything wrong with sowing a bit of wild grain while I am single. Since you’re from a society that touts open sexuality, I find it strange that you’d judge me for a few bachelor trysts.”
“A few trysts?” She held her stomach and sniggered. “If Mydrias had a warship for each female you’ve…eh, encountered…Lord Creshin would never be a threat.”
The injustice of her statement made him bluster. The dancing lady burst into giggles. When her laughter subsided, all trace of emotion left her flawless face. “And yes, in Mydrias, we believe sex is a natural and normal part of life. But even in our culture, prince, we do not tolerate promiscuity.”
“Promiscuity?” He struggled to maintain his composure.
Her lips curved upward, her smile radiating with rebuke. “Perhaps I am being unfair. Count the number of lovers you’ve had over the last year. If the number is less than twenty, I will apologize.”
He was too aware of her scrutiny as he tried to do a quick tally. He didn’t like the numbers. Am I promiscuous?
“Less than forty?” she inquired.
Maybe he was promiscuous.
“So tell me, do you intend to keep your mistresses after you marry?”
“It’s none of your business, but I do not.” His neck muscles grew stiff. “In spite of what you’ve heard, my lady, I hold marriage in high regard. I shall not be unfaithful after I’ve spoken vows.”
“Really?” She’d turned away and shadows hid her face, but he sensed her doubt. “So you are not like your father?”
“What the…” Kamber closed his mouth. He hadn’t concealed his surprise. His negotiation skills were renowned, yet he couldn’t hide his emotions from a dancing girl. “You are well-informed.” He turned from her and leaned over the wall. The fragrance of lavender no longer smelled sweet. “I assure you. When I’m married, I’ll be very different from my father.”
