by Kali Anthony
‘Yes, isn’t it? Romance is all around us.’ His voice in response sounded hard, cynical. Even to his own ears. Echoing in this little space with nothing soft to absorb it.
In truth, this building was a testament to a failed marriage. His parents’ relationship had been reported as one of great passion, until his father became bored after Alessio was born. This building hinted at something grand and consuming. Love perhaps. Obsession more likely. Or a desperate, clinging hope of keeping something that was already slipping away. He had no memory of his parents’ love, only what cold, black coals were left when the flame had burned out.
‘You say that like romance isn’t a good thing.’
A slight frown marred her brow, those eyes of hers watching him. Assessing all the time. The sense of it prickled down his spine. A warning that he was transparent as glass and she could see all his cracks and flaws underneath. She was an artist after all. She was programmed to look for those things. He didn’t want her to see them. They were secrets he kept from the world. The face he projected was the one he wanted her to paint, not the man he hid.
‘If not reciprocated, it’s a disaster.’ The shouts, the fights. The priceless porcelain hurled across rooms, smashing against walls. His mother’s cry. ‘You loved me once!’ His father’s reply. ‘I hate you now.’ That was where romance ended. In rage and recrimination.
‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Would you build such a lofty monument to romance yourself?’
Hannah looked around the space. Tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear. She nibbled at her plump, peach lips. But she wouldn’t look at him.
‘My art takes up all of my time and emotion.’ She appeared to have hunched in on herself, as if she were trying to tuck herself in, fold herself away till she was hidden. ‘And that’s enough.’
He understood his own attitude all too well. Love was a lie. Romance a folly as real and palpable as the building in which they stood. He wondered what led a young woman like her to reject it, when most had their heads in the clouds.
‘So cynical for one so young,’ he murmured. And something of a kindred spirit, but he didn’t want to think of that. Of the way she stood there. Her cheeks coloured a beautiful pink from the warmth of the day and the mild exertion. How her eyes were the translucent green of Lasserno’s coastline, where the water met the rocky shore. How they were alone, where the only thing he could hear were the birds and the whisper of a summer’s breeze through the trees outside. The beat of his heart thudding in his ears. Then she looked up at him, a flash in her eyes like sun on the sea. Her gaze casting down his body, then back to meet his. Her lips parted.
This, between them, was nothing about romance but something more primal—though no less destructive. An awareness like a match freshly struck and flaring to life. If he were another man he would have taken the few steps forward to close the space between them, wrapped her in his arms, kissed her and explored this attraction. The heat of desire coursed through his veins, settled down low. Snapping at his heels to prompt him into action. He took a deep breath against the immediacy of this craving. Something he didn’t want or need.
The only thing he had to rule his life by was the desire to serve his country. To be better. The best. And nothing else would do, particularly not following this desire running between them when nothing could ever come of it.
‘We should move on,’ he said. ‘The horses need exercise. But if the light appeals, you may come here and paint.’
At least it might help keep her away from him and his incendiary desires with no outlet.
‘Thank you.’ Hannah’s voice was low and husky, the sensation of it scoring over his skin.
They left the small pavilion and he shut the door behind them, on the past. He was all for moving forward, the only direction for him now. They approached the horses, happily nibbling on some grass under the trees, heads lifting and ears pricking as they approached.
‘I’ll give you assistance to mount Kestia.’ He didn’t want his horse’s back hurt by an inexperienced rider struggling to get on. It had nothing to do with a need to move close, where he could smell the scent of her like the apple trees which graced the sheltered orchards of the palace gardens. It most certainly was not an excuse to touch Hannah in any way, to feel the warmth of her body through her jeans as he assisted her onto the horse, but he needn’t have worried. She was graceful, assured. Almost as if she’d been born in the saddle on which she sat. Looking perfect on the horse he’d bought for his future princess, whoever she might ultimately be from the list of candidates now sitting in the top drawer of his desk. After Hannah left, after his coronation, then he’d decide that part of his future. He still had time.
Alessio shoved those thoughts aside. He swung himself onto Apollo’s back and led through the olives into the heat of the day, pointing out landmarks as he saw them. Anything to keep his mind off the way her cheeks glowed pink in the warm sunshine, the way soft strands of her dark brown hair escaped the riding helmet, curling round the base of her neck.
He’d rather encourage Apollo into a gallop and keep riding till both were exhausted and covered in sweat, to burn away these sensations that were so foreign to him. And he couldn’t sit here any longer, taking this sedate pace. He needed more, to outrun the crushing in his chest. The feeling of being trapped in a way he couldn’t explain.
Reprieve came from a man walking through the grapevines in the distance.
‘Do you feel confident enough to ride back to the stables yourself? As I said, I need to speak with my vigneron.’ It wasn’t far and Kestia was quiet and sound.
Hannah hesitated for a second, then nodded. ‘I’ll be fine. You go ahead.’
It didn’t take a moment to encourage Apollo to move. Alessio clicked his tongue and the horse knew what he wanted, accelerating into a gallop and giving them both the freedom they craved.
* * *
Hannah watched Alessio ride out. The magnificence of it as he took off over the landscape. She settled Kestia, the little horse becoming impatient seeing the big bay streak away into the distance. Hannah patted her neck as they walked a short way. Out of Alessio’s presence it was almost as if she could let out a long-held breath, those moments in the pavilion, built as a tribute to love and romance, filling her with something she barely understood. An awareness that took root and grew unchecked and uncontrolled in that little space, and for the briefest, blinding flash she craved to explore it for herself. But those feelings led nowhere. They were remnants of childish fantasies and nothing more.
Now she was firmly grounded in reality, sitting on the back of a beautiful horse for the first time in nine years. That was a thrill of its own, and with Alessio occupied she could ride as she wanted with no one to ask questions of her.
‘Okay, little girl, let’s see what you can do.’ She encouraged her horse into a trot through the vibrant landscape, the sun high in a cobalt sky, a cool breeze making the afternoon comfortably warm rather than oppressive. They broke out onto the path, towards the castle rising majestically from the landscape. Like a fantasy picture made real.
She spurred her horse on a little faster now, settling into the rhythm, the quiver in her belly all about excitement. How had she forgotten how alive this made her feel? It was as if a switch had been flicked, a light turned on, illuminating all the dark and missing corners in her life. Ahead lay the low gate they’d passed on the way out on their ride and Kestia’s ears pricked. Hannah’s heart thrummed in her chest, the excited beat of it because this jump was easy and she was going to take it. As they approached the obstacle Hannah checked the length of her mount’s stride, preparing them for the jump. Adjusted her position and they flew, for the briefest of moments, before safely landing on the other side.
All those things she’d suppressed, forced herself to forget, coalesced into that bright, brilliant moment soaring over the fence. The jump hadn’t bee
n difficult for either of them, but still she patted her little horse, whispered words of praise as the tears stung in her eyes. The memories of competition, her parents’ pride at her success... There was joy in this moment, but it was also suffused with a deep ache which never really went away.
She rode on, not slowing her horse. They entered the stable area and she dismounted with a smile which might not leave her for hours, rubbing Kestia’s mane, smoothing her hands over her soft coat. The thud of hooves in the distance caught her attention and she glanced outside to see Alessio galloping towards them like a warrior. He rode into the stables with a flash and clatter of hooves and pulled up his horse, leaping from Apollo and stalking towards her, reins in hand.
‘What the hell do you think you were doing?’ His eyes glittered like black diamonds. Jaw clenched hard enough to shatter teeth.
‘Riding?’ She stroked her horse’s velvety nose, trying to ignore the man crackling next to her with the energy of a summer storm. ‘She’s wonderful. A dream.’
‘As she should be,’ he hissed, his breathing hard from exertion. ‘You could have hurt her by pulling a stunt like that!’
Hannah refused to accept the approbation. She might do many things, but she’d never hurt a horse. ‘It was no stunt. I—’
‘You said you couldn’t ride!’
‘I said I hadn’t ridden in a long time.’ Hannah glared at him, the excitement of the ride still coursing rich and hot through her veins. She stood straight and tall, holding her ground, hands planted on her hips, not caring if this broke every rule in his stupid handbook. Alessio didn’t move, vibrating with a furious energy. It was as if both of them were sizing up the other for a fight. She took off her riding helmet and scrubbed her hands through her hair, damp with sweat. ‘You told me she could jump and the quality of your horses is obvious. I would never have done anything beyond her capabilities. It’s not as if I hopped on her back and threw her straight over the fence. We’ve ridden for an hour already. I had her measure.’
His sensual lips thinned. The merest of frowns creased his brow. ‘You’ve been holding back on me. All morning.’
Something of a warning flashed in his eyes and she knew it was because she hadn’t admitted the truth to him earlier in the day. And that was a problem because he’d been holding back for her too, when they both could have ridden like the wind together. But she hadn’t wanted him to ask questions about her skills, rusty as they were in the beginning. Questions led to conversations, and conversations brought back memories now bubbling close to the surface, of things which had haunted too many of her days, and some of her nights even still.
‘I said I thought we’d met—’
‘We haven’t...as adults.’
That was why she and her friend had been in the car together and she hadn’t travelled with her parents. They’d been giggling and gossiping about him.
‘I’ve seen you ride before. I recognise your style and I’ll always remember a horse. Who was yours?’
It wasn’t really a question but a command. He stood there formidable, with the assurance of a person to whom no one would say no. The type of person who was never unsure. She’d remembered him like that, when she was only sixteen and unsure about everything. His confidence, the certainty about him. Part of her wanted to knock him down now, refuse to answer his questions. But she’d be damned if he thought she’d be reckless on horseback. All she needed to do was withstand the memories that would once again storm over her, leaving her wrung out for days. She couldn’t do that here. There was nowhere to shut herself away and grieve unrestricted.
‘His name was Beauchamp... Beau.’
‘A palomino?’
She nodded, astounded Alessio could remember. Beau was so beautiful he had looked as if he’d been forged from gold. She might have had no siblings, but he was like her brother, her best friend. His loss in such a terrible way, with her parents, had almost broken her. He might have survived the accident, but he hadn’t been able to survive the mortal injuries. She’d wanted everyone to try, because he was all she had left after her parents had died instantly, but the vet said no, and in the end others had made the decision she couldn’t make for herself. She’d never shaken the feeling she’d let them both down that day, and in those moments any sliver of hope something might be left to her out of the horror had died with him.
She turned her head, not wanting Alessio to see the vulnerability, the tears that she couldn’t prevent.
‘You were good. You could make him fly like you both had wings.’ Hannah couldn’t believe Alessio had noticed her, could remember her horse. She’d always thought he was the type of man who wouldn’t notice anyone like her.
‘Why did you stop?’ he asked.
She couldn’t answer that question, not now. ‘Why did you?’
Her voice threatened to crack. She reined in the emotion.
‘Always with the questions, yet no answers for me,’ he said. ‘How does someone so young have so much to hide?’
She shrugged. ‘I could ask the same.’
He hesitated for a second, which was pronounced because he was a man who hesitated at nothing. ‘My country needed me. And you?’
The desire to say it was like a poisoned thing bursting out of her chest and she couldn’t contain it any longer.
‘There was an accident. My parents. My horse. I lost everything.’ Hannah let out a long, slow breath. Closed her eyes. Rested her forehead on Kestia’s warm body.
‘When I left England, my groom told me of a tragedy but there were few details. I had no idea it was you.’ His voice was soft and kind, but it didn’t really help. Nothing did. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It was a long time ago now, and it’s fine. Really.’
Those were the lies she told herself. So many lies. She’d wondered for years what was the purpose of her surviving, till she found she could document the moments of others so precious memories would never be lost. That was her calling now. Photos might fade, but she tried to paint those portraits capturing an essence a photo never could. Her pictures could hang on a wall, there for ever.
‘No. It’s not.’ A brush of heat coursed through her from the soft touch of Alessio’s fingers at her elbow. The gentle pressure somehow comforting. She turned around, looked into his darkly handsome face. The tightness of his eyes, the pinch to his mouth. Pain drawn across him, reflecting her own. ‘I was called home after my mother fell ill. Then we lost her. The country might have shared the grief but in truth it was all mine, and nothing about that is fine, Hannah. It is as if nothing will ever be fine again.’
He’d moved forward. They stood so close now, the heat from his body warming her cold soul. She wanted to take it all for herself. Wrap herself in it like a blanket and let him comfort her for ever, because in some small way he understood.
‘There were days when it was all too hard.’
‘And yet here we are today.’
Their bodies were hidden behind the horses, where no one could see. She was so aware of the solidity of him, his broad shoulders holding the weight of grief. The burdens of a prince. How she wished some days she could share hers with another, let them carry the load for a while. Let someone with the strength of this man shoulder them. But that was a vulnerability she couldn’t afford because it wouldn’t last, a gateway to more pain, and she’d had enough in her twenty-five years to last her a lifetime.
Yet the moment seemed full, teeming with things unsaid, emotions repressed waiting to explode. Hovering between everything, and nothing at all. She could smell him this close, the seaside tang of fresh male sweat from their ride in the sun, and the undertone of something else dark and sweet like treacle she could drown in. One step closer and they’d touch. That was all it would take, a move from either of them.
Alessio cupped her cheek, his palm burning on her flesh. The look in his eyes soft. Sad, as if carryi
ng the weight of the world. Then he slid his hand away, stroking her skin as if wanting to linger. Goosebumps drifted over her as he stepped back. It was as if a tension in the stables had snapped, the release a kind of let-down, almost a disappointment.
‘You may come and ride Kestia at any time you wish whilst you’re here. Simply let the groom know.’
‘What about you?’
The corner of his mouth turned upwards in a wry smile. ‘I have a country to rule.’
‘Is it enough?’
‘It’s all I have, and all I was born for. It must be enough.’ He called over the groom, who led away his two charges. ‘Now I’ll leave you. We have the dinner tonight, where you’ll accompany Stefano. I have much to do before then.’
He turned and strode out of the stables, as if hell itself were chasing him.
CHAPTER FIVE
ALESSIO STOOD BEFORE a mirror, carefully adjusting the white silk bow tie till it sat stiff and perfect at his throat. He wanted to rip it off, the infernal fabric too tight, the top buttons of his pristine shirt choking him. Instead he turned away, breathing slowly, slipping gold cufflinks adorned with the royal crest into the holes of his turned-back cuffs. Sealing them, and him, into place. He shrugged on his jacket, checked again that the Prince of Lasserno had been buttoned, cuffed and tied into his costume. Trying not to think of the afternoon. Of a woman with dark hair the colour of melted chocolate, flying over a fence on a horse. Her grief that twinned his own. The thrill of her warm skin under his fingers.
In Alessio’s experience, women were cool, perfumed, and polished in all ways. Hannah had been none of those things today. Instead she’d been heat and fire and sweat and it was all he could do when the tears had gleamed in her eyes not to crush her to him and burn that grief away with a kiss. To see whether the skin of the rest of her was as soft as her cheek under his palm.
