Had he been laughing with his friends over this? Thawing the ice queen and making her fall at his feet?
What a good joke, what a great party…
There wasn’t anything else for me to do except leave. Leave now, leave quickly, leave before any of the ignorant, amorous people within the house discovered that I had been abandoned.
Nobody wanted Lady Claire Sutherland.
It would surprise no one.
I shouldn’t have been surprised myself.
But I had hoped, and I had wanted, and I had forgotten that I never did get anything I wanted. Why should that change now?
I had learned how to feel, and I never wanted to do it again.
I sank onto a bench and put my head into my hands, wishing the anger I felt would turn into a firm resolve to hate. So far, it only made me cry harder, feel worse, and take away whatever strength I had left.
“Claire.”
I hiccupped on a sob and turned at the sound.
There he was. Dressed in a tux, though his tie was undone, but otherwise he was perfection. Delicious, tempting, maddening perfection.
And I hated him.
He paused at my tears, his face becoming one of concern and horror. “Claire, what happened?”
I coughed a startled laugh. “What happened?” I cried, my voice cracking. “What HAPPENED?”
He took a few steps closer. “Fatina…”
“Don’t!” I barked, tears flowing down my cheeks and choking my words. “Don’t call me that. Don’t say anything in Italian. Don’t do anything to make me hate you any less than I do right now.”
His eyes widened. “Hate?”
“You left me!” I bellowed, shooting to my feet. “You knew I would be waiting, and you left me. I was in there all alone, with no one who even cared if I was happy or sad, let alone having a good time. Have you been playing with me all this time, Salvatore? Has that been your plan all along? To make me like you, and then to break my heart?”
“No!” he insisted in a hoarse voice, staggering towards me. “No, not at all, Claire.”
“Did you know?” The words came out as a whimper, and I clamped a hand to my throbbing heart. “Did you know that I would be waiting in that ballroom by myself? And when midnight struck, I would be the only one alone?”
“Claire…”
I sniffed back another wash of tears, wishing my name didn’t sound so tormented from him. It made me ache more than I already did, and I didn’t want to hurt anymore. “I tore down all of my walls for you. Everything I’ve never let anyone else see, I let you see. There were no defenses left. And you… And you… You threw it all back into my face. You left me here alone. Wishing and hoping, praying that I hadn’t trusted you for nothing. Do you know how betrayed I felt? How abandoned? I didn’t even know I had a heart until I felt it break.”
Salvatore came closer, but still out of reach. “Please, Claire, let me explain… It isn’t what you think. I treasure everything that we have shared, everything you have shared with me. I’ve felt the same. You know more about me than anyone on this earth, and I am glad you do.”
I exhaled a half of sob, wanting to believe him, but not sure if I could.
He nodded earnestly, seeming somehow hopeful that I hadn’t stopped him. “Tonight I told you I had business to take care of. I meant that.” He smiled just a little. “I am starting that foundation you told me to. The one encouraging children to be active and engaged, spending more time out of doors, things of that sort. I’ve been on the phone for hours with advisors and investors, putting all of the pieces together to get this innovation off the ground. I’ll finally have a purpose, Claire. A cause. Something to motivate me.”
Of all things he could have been doing, it had to be something I was immensely proud of. I found myself smiling in spite of my still breaking heart. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
His eyes were warm and tender, as was his smile, and he shook his head. “You inspired me to do that, Claire. I could never have done it without you.”
“You don’t know that,” I insisted, swiping at my eyes.
“I do know that. I do. And while I was dealing with those calls, I made another set. To the Monterran Arts Foundation.”
My tears suddenly stopped and I stared at him wide-eyed, barely breathing.
He nodded slowly. “I explained to the board that there needed to be a strong voice speaking for the arts around the world, someone who truly understood the beauty, majesty, and history of art, someone who could ensure that only the best were on display and that the best care was being given to the artifacts and pieces. I explained to them that there was a need for a rejuvenation of the arts in our country for the good of the people, and that I had the perfect person to take on the task and set things right.”
“Who?” I whispered.
“You.”
I stumbled a half-step to my left, my hand now clutching at my chest. “What?”
He smiled almost brightly. “They had an emergency board meeting and called for a vote. You have been unanimously sustained as the chairman for the Restoration of Monterran Arts and Artifacts committee until a new board position opens up once we restructure things, at which time you will be placed on it.”
“How could you…?” I stammered, suddenly nervous once more. “How did you…?”
“I told you I wanted this for you,” he murmured, coming closer still. “I told you that you would be perfect. I’m the Duca di Brista, which carries a lot of authority. This position is yours if you want it.”
I swallowed hard. “What about the royal family?”
One corner of his mouth lifted into a wry smile. “I also had a very long conversation with Nico. He is not going to stand in the way, and is willing to give you a chance. Again, if you want it. The choice is yours, Claire.” He smiled hesitantly. “How is that for an excuse?”
I managed a watery laugh, though my arms and legs were suddenly shaking. “Pretty good, as far as excuses go. But… Salvatore, you weren’t here! The farewell kiss at midnight… I was standing there alone in the ballroom with no one. And I didn’t want to kiss just anyone, I wanted…” I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t finish, so I just looked at him, pleading with him to understand.
He shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But I’m also glad for it.”
“Glad?” I cried, flinging my hands out. “How could you be glad for that? I thought… I thought…”
He reached up and cupped my face in both his hands. “I’m glad because I don’t want to give you a goodbye kiss, Claire, unless I know I get hello again. My first kiss with you told me that I wanted my last kiss to be with you. And that terrified me, but you know what? It excited me. It still excites me. This entire week I have been counting the minutes, the seconds, until I could be with you again. Hold you again. Kiss you, if you wouldn’t slap me.”
“I did apologize for that…” I reminded him weakly, my fingers finding their way to his jacket.
“And when I did kiss you again…”
“When?” I interjected sharply. “You never thought ‘if’?”
Salvatore shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “Not even once. I knew I would kiss you again. And when I did, it would tell you the same thing your kiss told me.”
I could barely breathe, let alone speak. But I had to. “And that is?”
He touched his nose to mine gently. “I am yours, Lady Claire Sutherland. Utterly and completely.”
“But you did kiss me again,” I whispered. “Several times.”
He nodded against me, the movement more of a nuzzle. “And did you know?”
Did I know? Could I have known? “I… hoped.”
That didn’t seem to deter him. “I’ll take it. With more practice, perhaps you’ll know better.”
Now it was my turn to shake my head, my chest no longer aching in quite the same way, my eyes burning with new tears. “I know now. That’s enough.”
“So you do
n’t want me to kiss you?” he asked, dipping his voice lower and sending a thrill up my spine.
“Oh, you had better kiss me,” I informed him staunchly. “And it needs to be an apology for the embarrassment I endured.”
“I shall do my best.” He pressed his lips to mine with all of the passion he’d ever kissed me with, all of the energy he had ever teased me with, and all of the intensity his Italian phrases had ever borne. Over and over again he kissed me, until my heart was no longer broken, but whole and soaring, screaming into the night sky with a feverish sort of whirl, and it was all I could do to hold onto him and beg my lips to keep up.
His lips moved to my jaw, his hands roaming along my back. “You look incredible, fatina,” he murmured. “Everything from my every dream and more. Bellissima.”
I gasped at the sensation his words had on me, and my lips burned again with the need for his, and the need to say what I’d meant to all along. “Now I think I need to tell you something.”
He stilled and pulled back. “Tell me what?” he asked, obviously wary.
I cleared my throat, then exhaled a short breath, looking him squarely in the eye. “Sono pazzamente inamorata di te.”
Salvatore gaped, his eyes wide, his breathing suddenly unsteady. “Fatina… Bella Claire, amore mio…” He bent to kiss me again.
“Let me finish!” I laughed, putting a hand to his chest. “Ti amo tantissimo. Voglio stare sempre con te. Oh, hang it, I can’t finish in Italian, I’m too frazzled.”
He cupped my face again, grinning so broadly I thought his cheeks would break. “English will be just as musical to my ears, Tesoro.”
I began to cry again, a few tears trickling slowly onto his hands. “I just had to tell you that I’m in love with you. Quite madly. That’s why I was crying out here tonight. I loved you, and I wanted nothing more than to tell you, but only after we kissed, so I could know if you felt it, and hide it if you did not. And I wanted to tell you in your own language. And you’re right, it does feel better to say it.”
His hold tightened. “Oh, bella…”
“I love you, Salvatore. And I needed to tell you.”
He gave me a quick but almost brutal kiss. “I love you, too, Claire. Mio caro amore.”
I smirked at him. “I know that one.”
That made him laugh. “And you’ll know more and more as we go on. I’ll teach you. I am a very good teacher.”
“Does the teacher give rewards for good behavior?” I asked, leaning back in his hold.
His hands moved to my waist, pulling me in closer. “Oh yes, fatina. And even some for bad.”
“I think I like this teacher,” I mused slyly. “Could we give him a trial run?”
He quirked a grin, then sobered appropriately. “Si. Come si dice ‘beautiful’ in Italiano?”
“Bella,” I replied. “Or in your case, bello.”
“Si, cara mia. Molto bene. Come si dice ‘love’?”
I reached up to run my fingers through his hair. “Amore.”
He leaned into my touch, almost groaning. “Come si dice ‘forever’?”
I pouted a little. “I don’t know that one…”
Salvatore smiled and turned his head to kiss my wrist. “I thought not. Let me teach you: forever. Per sempre.”
I nodded slowly, then gave my love a smile that would echo my words. “Il mio bello amore per sempre.”
His throat worked twice before he could reply. “Bene. Molto, molto bene. You deserve a reward.” His eyes turned a shade darker, and a distinctly wicked smile appeared on his perfect lips. “But first…”
And then he kissed me; the sort of kiss every girl wishes for, the kind that melts bones and weakens knees, the kind that puts stars in the sky and fire in your heart…
The kind of kiss that means absolutely everything.
And I kissed him back in exactly the same way.
And that, too, was molto, molto bene.
EPILOGUE
“It’s no use. No good, I can’t do it. I can’t.”
“Why? Claire, why?”
“Just tell him I can’t. Tell them all I can’t.”
“Claire…”
“GO, Thalia!”
She went, closing the door behind her swirling, royal blue bridesmaid’s dress.
Those dresses were too flowy. I shouldn’t have chosen them, I should have chosen something sleeker. But I’d been taken in by the rich color and the romantic, whimsical idea of looser skirts, something that would seem to float as they walked… Ridiculous sentiment.
Too late now, but there it was.
I sat down in the chair nearest me, ignoring the way the lace sleeves suddenly pulled tight at my shoulders. It was a delicate fabric, and would fray easily, or so I had been warned, but one did what one must for fashion.
Pity I wouldn’t be seen in it.
Never mind the painstaking details on the bodice that I’d become an absolute witch over, or the perfectly framed silhouette that I’d terrorized two seamstresses for, or the custom stilettos I was wearing that had cost an absolute fortune and fit like a dream. Never mind that my hair and makeup were pristine and elegant, or that the man of my dreams was waiting for me just at the other end of the chapel, or that at least half of Europe had filled the seats to see us marry.
Never mind any of that. I couldn’t do this.
Oh, I loved him, there was no question there. I adored him wildly and passionately, that hadn’t changed in all the time we’d been together. In fact, it had only grown in intensity.
But now that the day was here, now that I finally had the approval of my family, the forgiveness of the Royal Family of Monterra, as well as the almost good graces of the Royal Family of England, I couldn’t go through with it.
I was Lady Claire Sutherland, the Ice Queen of Europe, a cold, calculating socialite with no reservations when it came to backstabbing and betrayal to get what I wanted. Or so this morning’s opinion section in a local paper from home had claimed.
And I couldn’t refute the claims.
I had been that woman. Sometimes, I still was, when it came down to it. She’d made appearances in some board meetings with the Monterran Arts Foundation, though only briefly, and she’d gotten the job done, which had made the board happy in the end.
But to marry that mad woman?
Now that was insane.
I couldn’t let him do that. Salvatore, the Duca di Brista, had become a worldwide force for youth activity and physical education, partnering with Prince Alex’s brother, Prince James, from my home country, who also had a passion for that sort of thing. The pair of them had become the token heartthrobs for girls all over the world. James, or Jamie, as most people knew him, I had known from youth, and he’d never been as severe about my behavior as his brother and his wife. Of course, I’d never tried to pursue Jamie, so that probably explained it.
But Salvatore had gone from a classic example of a playboy to a prominent figure that inspired respect and admiration. Having a wife that only a handful of people could stand wouldn’t help him at all. I’d never be fully reformed, it wasn’t in my nature. I’d never be completely forgiven by Queen Katerina or Princess Caitlin, but both were in attendance today, no doubt dragged by their husbands for the sake of family connections.
I wouldn’t have forgiven me if I were them.
Then again, I wasn’t sure I’d actually asked for it.
I’d been waiting to see if they’d got over it, seeing how changed I was, and considering I lived in Monterra six months out of the year, when I wasn’t travelling for the Arts Foundation or as Salvatore’s arm candy. I’d even struck up a charity with Thalia that our fathers fully backed, one that provided art classes and education across Europe. And, if she could be prevailed upon to see me, I’d thought about engaging Prince Dante’s wife Lemon into the mix in an attempt to bring the Americans on board.
That one was still up in the air. I was slightly afraid of that woman; she seemed the sort to spit and s
narl when approached by a hostile figure.
She was here, too.
So many people were here that couldn’t stand me.
What if they objected to the match?
A vision of forty-seven people standing in unison and screaming their objections when the priest asked flashed across my imagination, and I put my face in my hands as panicking breaths started coursing through me.
He shouldn’t marry me. He needed someone people actually liked, someone who would make sense to the people around the world.
Not a woman who would make everyone stop and go, “Really?” followed by “Why?”
I wondered why.
Why did he want me? Why had he asked me to marry him? It had been a sweet and tender proposal, when we had returned to Tuscany for an event and escaped back to some of our favorite spots from that house party a year ago, and since then our lives had been a whirlwind.
I’d asked him a dozen times if he was sure, and his response was always the same: “Ti amo. Sono sicuro.”
I love you. I’m sure.
I loved him, too. I was sure I wanted to marry him.
I just didn’t know if I could. Or should.
“Claire?”
I turned with a jerk, gaping at the door. There stood my groom, gorgeous in a perfectly fitted uniform of the Monterran Royal Guard, with his honorary medals decorating his chest.
His hand was over his eyes, but he was there.
“What are you doing?” I squawked, tossing my exceptionally long veil over one shoulder to see him better. “It’s bad luck to see me.”
He lifted his hand in a wave, the eyes beneath closed tightly. “Eyes closed, Tesoro. I can’t see you. No bad luck.” He came into the room and closed the door behind him, then faced me, putting his hand over his eyes again. “Thalia says you can’t do this. Did you find my secret mistress from 2011 or something?”
I laughed a surprisingly watery laugh. “You never had a secret anything when it came to women.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m terrible with secrets.”
I shook my head, loving every inch of him and aching that I couldn’t walk down the aisle to him. “It’s too much, Salvatore. I can’t do this.”
The Royals of Monterra: Royal Rivals (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 12
