The Peril and the Prince

by Barbara Cartland

  Only when she was almost ready to go downstairs to the dining room did she draw Margit across the room to the open window.

  Speaking softly into her ear, she asked,

  “What have you found out, Margit?”

  “Not much,” Margit replied in English, “but enough to make me worried! Tonight I will try to talk with His Highness’s valet.”

  “A good idea!” Vida said. “But don’t wait up, as I may be late and I can undo this gown quite easily.”

  “You sure?”

  “Quite sure!”

  She was used to looking after herself and, because Margit was growing old, she never allowed her to stay up late waiting for her as was customary for a lady’s maid.

  “It is too much for you,” she had said when Margit had expostulated, “and there is so much to do in the daytime that I do not want you to feel that you cannot cope.”

  She said again now,

  “Go to bed and I will find some way to talk to you in the morning.”

  Margit nodded to show she understood.

  Then she said quickly,

  “You lock the door?”

  “Of course!” Vida agreed.

  She felt quite certain that the Prince would not approach her.

  At the same time it was always wise to take precautions and she remembered how her mother had often told her when she was young and staying in hotels or in private houses to lock her bedroom door in case of thieves.

  Once again the Prince took her into dinner and they had, Vida thought, one of the most interesting conversations that she had ever enjoyed about the treasures that had been collected in Russia by Catherine the Great.

  They also discussed the treasures he himself possessed in this and his other houses.

  She thought, although he had not spoken of it, that he was surprised at how much she knew about art.

  They talked about the gypsies and their dancing and she found that this was a particularly enjoyable subject.

  “I am glad you enjoy dancing,” the Prince said, “because tonight I have a treat for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “I have arranged for a ballet to be performed in my private theatre and, since the ballerinas come from Moscow, I think you will find that they are outstanding.”

  “That is the most exciting idea I have ever heard!” Vida exclaimed enthusiastically.

  The Prince’s private theatre was small but beautiful with very comfortable upholstered chairs to sit in.

  The curtains that draped the proscenium were of the richest and most exquisite brocade and everywhere there were gilded carvings that Vida could see had been executed by exceptional craftsmen.

  As soon as they were all seated, the orchestra struck up the overture and, when the curtains were drawn back, Vida knew that the Prince had been correct in saying that the ballerinas were exceptional.

  She found it difficult to remember when she had last seen such exquisite dancing, even though she had often attended ballet performances in Vienna as well as in Paris.

  She forgot the Prince, she forgot everything except the story being unfolded in mime and the beauty of the music the professionals danced to.

  Only as the curtain fell was she aware that the Prince’s eyes were on her face and not on the stage.

  She gave a deep sigh as if she came back to earth from another planet and exclaimed,

  “That was wonderful!”

  “I think you felt as if you were dancing with them yourself,” the Prince commented.

  “Of course I did! And I was part of the story they were telling.”

  “I knew that,” he replied. “Your eyes are very expressive and very revealing.”

  “I hope not,” Vida said quickly.

  “Why not?” he enquired.

  “It is said that the eyes are the mirror of the soul,” she answered, “and I have no wish to have anybody looking into my soul or any other part of me that is strictly private!”

  “I think that is something you cannot altogether prevent,” he answered. “And may I say that I find your soul as entrancing as I find everything else about you?”

  There seemed to be a different note in his voice from the way he had spoken before, but Vida told herself quickly that he was just being politely complimentary, as any other young man might be.

  And yet she was not sure.

  She knew that the Russian character was very different from that of any other nationality.

  Unlike an Englishman, a Russian’s soul was so consciously a part of himself that he thought of it and spoke of it as something quite familiar and very precious.

  He was not at all embarrassed by it and, where an Englishman felt with his heart, a Russian felt with his soul and his emotions therefore came from the very depths of his being.

  When they left the theatre, there were refreshments in yet another room where they could dance.

  Tonight, as if the haunting beauty of the ballet still lingered with them, there was a string orchestra to play the Offenbach waltzes that had captured the hearts of all Paris.

  To Vida’s surprise, the orchestra stopped playing far earlier than she expected and the Prince made it obvious without actually saying so that he was waiting for his guests to retire to bed.

  “You must be planning something very interesting for us tomorrow, Your Highness,” one of the gentlemen said. “How early are we starting?”

  “Earlier than usual!” the Prince replied, “but you will be called in plenty of time to dress without hurry and enjoy your breakfast.”

  “You are making me curious,” his guest remarked.

  “That is what I want you to be,” the Prince smiled.

  He escorted Vida to the bottom of the stairs, but tonight as she was not going up alone, he bowed over her hand instead of kissing it.

  She went up the stairs talking to several of the ladies who seemed extremely friendly.

  They admired Vida’s gown, which tonight had been white and silver and made her look like a nymph rising from below the cascade they had seen at luncheon time.

  Instead of the jewels that had made her look so resplendent last night she wore a wreath of camellias in her hair and the same flowers decorated her gown.

  Round her neck she wore her mother’s five rows of pearls and there were pearls in her ears and on her wedding finger.

  The Prince had not remarked upon her appearance, but she had known by the expression in his eyes that he thought she looked beautiful.

  When she went into her bedroom and locked her door, as she had promised Margit she would do, she told herself that she had never had a more enjoyable time.

  She had, however, got no further in discovering what had happened to her father since she had entered Russia.

  ‘What am I to do?’ she asked herself.

  Then she decided that tomorrow she must play about no longer. She must make up her mind whether or not she could trust the Prince and ask his help.

  ‘He must be trustworthy,’ she tried to assure herself.

  And yet she was apprehensive.

  She knew that all through the day, even at the cascade, underlying her appreciation of everything that had been planned was an ache within her, almost a physical pain, that told her her father was in danger.

  ‘I cannot go on like this!’ she thought as she lifted the wreath from off her head and put away her gown in the wardrobe.

  When she was in bed, she found herself sending out her thoughts to her father, begging him to guide and help her.

  ‘Can I trust the Prince, Papa?’ she asked. ‘Dare I tell him the truth as to why I am here?’

  Because she felt so agitated, she lit two candles by her bed and picked up the small Bible she always travelled with.

  Her mother had given it to her on her tenth birthday and told her,

  “If you are ever worried, my darling, if you want the answer to any problem, however complex, look in your Bible.”

  “Do you mean open it at random, Mama?
” Vida had asked.

  “What I do,” her mother replied, “is to pray, then open it with my eyes shut and put my finger on one verse and very seldom do I not receive an answer.”

  ‘That is what I will do now,’ Vida decided.

  She held the Bible in her hand, closed her eyes and, as she did so, she heard a sound.

  She looked up and saw to her astonishment that at the far end of the room a panel in the wall had opened and the Prince came in.

  For a moment she could only stare at him, wondering if she had shut the door and locked it.

  He came towards her, a smile on his lips, and she saw that he was wearing a long velvet robe that reached almost to the floor and made him seem larger and in a way more menacing than he did when he was dressed.

  Vida put the Bible down beside her.

  Then she asked,

  “What – do you – want?”

  “I should have thought that was obvious!” the Prince replied with a faint smile. “I want to be alone with you, Vida, and I think you are aware of how much I want you.”

  “You cannot mean – ?” Vida began.

  Then, as if she suddenly understood, she cried,

  “No, no! Of course not! You must go – away at once!”

  The Prince sat down on the bed facing her.

  “Why should I do that?” he asked. “You are so beautiful and I cannot believe that you intend to go on mourning your dead husband for very much longer.”

  Because of the depth of his voice when he spoke and because he looked so overwhelmingly handsome in the candlelight, Vida for a moment found it impossible to answer him.

  She could only look at him and her eyes seemed to fill her whole face.

  She had no idea that with her dark red hair falling over her shoulders, her skin very white in contrast and her nightgown so diaphanous that it was almost transparent, she looked like something out of a dream.

  “You have captivated me since the first moment I saw you,” the Prince was saying. “I find everything about you irresistible, and I believe unless I am much mistaken, that I attract you a little.”

  Once again Vida felt as if he was hypnotising her and drawing her towards him so that, although he had not moved, she was already in his arms and he was holding her.

  The thought was frightening and she put up her hands as if to safeguard herself, saying,

  “Please – don’t talk to me like this – not here! Let us wait until – tomorrow.”

  “Why tomorrow?” the Prince asked. “Why not now?”

  As he spoke, he put out his arms and almost before Vida could realise what was happening, his lips were on hers.

  For a second she could not believe that he was really kissing her, then, as she felt his lips hard, insistent and demanding on hers, she knew that she had to fight against him.

  But because he had pushed her back onto the pillows and was bending over her, it was impossible.

  Now she tried to force him away, but his lips became more demanding, more passionate.

  She felt as if he captured and possessed her so that she had no will and no thoughts of her own.

  Instead she could only feel sensations that she had no idea existed rising within her and making her feel as if he carried her up into the sky and made her part of the stars so that she was no longer herself.

  Then suddenly she remembered her father and, forcing her head to one side, she managed to say,

  “Please, please, you must – not do this to me. I cannot let you!”

  “Do you really think you can stop me?’” the Prince asked. “You want me, my beautiful, as I want you!”

  “That is – not true,” Vida tried to say.

  He turned her face back to his and once again his lips possessed hers and he was kissing her now with a passion that seemed to sear its way through her like a raging fire.

  She was aware too that he was lying on top of the bed and she was afraid as she had never been afraid before.

  “Please, please – ” she begged.

  Then, as he moved his lips from her mouth to the softness of her neck, she said,

  “Listen to me, please, listen to me. You are – frightening me – and there is nobody to – help me.”

  “Why should you be frightened?” the Prince asked.

  His lips were still against her neck, and yet for the moment he was not kissing her.

  ‘There is – something I – came here to ask you,” Vida said, “but I did not – know you would behave – like this and I am not certain if I can trust – you.”

  Because she was so frightened she spoke somewhat incoherently and yet she was aware that the Prince was listening.

  “I want you desperately,” he said. “Let me love you first, then we will talk afterwards.”

  “No, no!” Vida insisted. “I know it is – wrong for you to – love me like that and I did not – expect you to do so.”

  “Why not?” he enquired. “You have already made me aware that you have heard of my reputation and you cannot be so foolish as to not have known that you would attract me.”

  She did not answer and after a moment he said,

  “That is what you wanted to do, is it not? That is why you came here.”

  She drew in her breath.

  Then she said,

  “Yes, that is true, but I – locked my door.”

  He smiled as if he could not help it.

  “Being a Russian,” he said, “you must be aware that in Russia there are always secret doors and hollow walls.”

  “I-I did not – think of – that,” Vida replied. “Please, be kind to me because I am so foolish that I did not – realise the danger of what I was – doing.”

  The Prince raised himself slowly.

  Now in a different tone of voice he asked,

  “What are you saying to me?”

  In a piteous little voice because she was really afraid, Vida answered,

  “I-I came here to ask you – something very important – to me. But I am not sure if I – should do so.”

  As he looked at her searchingly, it made her think that if she made the wrong decision and he was not to be trusted, she might, in the Marquis’s words, be signing her father’s death warrant.

  She was so concerned that she was trembling as she said,

  “Please, don’t touch me again and – give me time to think.”

  “I do not understand,” the Prince said.

  “Perhaps I will be able to – explain tomorrow,” Vida replied, “but – not now.”

  “Why not now?”

  She looked away from him. .

  Then she said,

  “I-I cannot think – clearly when you – touch me.”

  “When I kiss you, you mean.”

  “Yes, when you – kiss me.”

  “And have you asked yourself the reason why?”

  She did not answer and after a moment he said,

  “I think you know that there is something between us that we cannot ignore, something irresistible, something that draws you to me as I am drawn to you. You cannot deny it!”

  He bent towards her as he added,

  “Let me make love to you, Vida, and after that there will be no problems, no more difficulties.”

  It flashed through her mind that if he made love to her and it gave her the same sensations as his kisses, it would be very wonderful. She would not only touch the stars but also be inside them, enveloped by their light.

  Then she remembered her father and told herself that nothing mattered except that she should save his life.

  “Please – ” she said to the Prince. “Please give me a little time so that I can think clearly. What I have to decide does not concern only me.”

  “Everything you say makes me more puzzled and bewildered than before,” the Prince answered.

  “I know it sounds complicated, but I have to do things my way, so try to understand.”

  She was pleading with him and he was aware of how tense she wa
s.

  “You are making it very difficult for me,” he said. “I thought for one moment when I kissed you and before you struggled against me that we were touching the Gates of Paradise together.”

  That was true, Vida thought wildly, but she had to forget everything except her father and the reason why she was here.

  “Tell me your secret now,” the Prince urged.

  She knew he was being deliberately persuasive because he was genuinely curious.

  “I-I cannot. I dare not,” she murmured. “But tomorrow – may be – different.”

  She thought frantically that by tomorrow Margit might have found out something or perhaps she would feel surer then that she was doing the right thing.

  She was vividly conscious of the Prince sitting beside her and the magnetism that came from him and all the sensations he had aroused in her.

  She could still feel his lips on her neck and she thought suddenly that almost anything was worth such ecstasy, such wonder.

  Then, as if she could see her father warning her, she cried out,

  “Go away! Go away and – leave me! I must – think! I must be – sure!”

  She put out her hand and accidentally touched the Bible she had put down beside her.

  She picked it up and said,

  “When you came to me, I was praying for guidance, feeling that this Bible would determine what I must do.”

  “You were praying?” the Prince asked in a deep voice.

  “I felt only – God could – help me.”

  There was an expression on his face that she did not understand.

  Then quite suddenly, so that she was surprised, he rose from the bed.

  “Very well, Vida,” he said, “I will grant you the time you have asked for to make up your mind, but I shall be thinking about you, wanting you and asking myself if I have made a mistake.”

  “You are being kind and understanding,” Vida said, “and it is never a mistake to be that.”

  The Prince smiled at her mockingly, then he said,

  “Good night. I hope you gain the right answer from your Bible, for otherwise I shall be very disappointed.”

  He would have turned away, but Vida put out her hand impulsively.

  “Thank you for being so understanding.”

  The Prince did not move.

  “I am not going to touch you,” he said, “for if I do, I might cease to do as you have asked and do what I myself really want.”