Pleasuring the Prince (20 page)

Something old. Something new. Something borrowed. Something blue.

Fancy remembered the old superstition and took stock of herself. New gown. Blue garters borrowed from Rudolf’s wife. Her mother’s lace handkerchief brought from France all those long years ago.

“The cosmetics are yours,” Fancy told her sister. “I can purchase replacements before returning to work.”

Belle looked at her in surprise. “Do you have the prince’s permission?”

A bolt of annoyance shot through her. Why did everyone think she needed her husband’s permission? They would be surprised when he financed the new opera, and she became the maid of Milan. Patrice Tanner did not know it, but her prima donna days were almost finished.

The door flew open, drawing their attention. “Oh, my dearest, you must leave that unflattering expression behind,” the duchess said, “or the prince will escape out the back door.”

Belle giggled. Fancy managed a smile for the duchess, but the stress of uncertain career, society marriage, and first pregnancy grated against her nerves.

“Think happy, my darling.” The duchess waved her arm in the air like a fairy godmother bestowing blessings. “Happy, happy, happy…”

Thirty minutes later, Fancy stood beside her father in the rear of the Grosvenor Chapel. Two hundred of the Inverarys’ closest relatives and friends filled the pews. Hundreds of candles lit the chapel, eerie shadows dancing on its walls, while two violinists played from their perches in the choir loft.

“If this wedding is small,” Fancy whispered, “I’ll eat my veil.”

“Roxie loves making a grand entrance,” the duke said. “Look at her, leading your sisters to the front pew.”

“They remind me of ducklings following their mother.”

Her father tilted her chin up and gazed into her violet eyes, so much like her mother’s. “I wish Gabrielle could see you today.”

He
had
loved her mother. No one would ever persuade her differently.

“I love you, Papa.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

“I always have and always will love you,” her father said. “No matter the circumstance, you have a place in my home.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

“Escorting you to the prince is the biggest honor of my life.”

“We did not have much time together.”

Her father lifted her hand to his lips. “I regret that.”

The violinist stopped playing, and the organist signaled the bride’s arrival. The wedding guests stood and faced the center aisle.

“Are you ready?”

Fancy answered by placing her hand on his. Ignoring the unknown faces, she fixed her gaze on the prince waiting at the end of the aisle, who had eyes only for her.

Fancy and her father reached the altar. He placed her hand on the prince’s and then backed away.

Stepan lifted her hand to his lips. “Thank you, my love, for making this the happiest day of my life.”

The Flambeau sisters in the front pew sighed audibly. On the opposite side of the aisle, the sighs of the Kazanov nieces joined her sisters’ sighs. Her lips twitched into a smile when she heard them.

“You have not found employment?”

“Alas, my love, a prince has few marketable skills.”

She winked at him. “I will gladly recommend you.”

“Will you marry me first?”

“Yes, I will.”

Together, they turned to the bishop. The ceremony lasted less than thirty minutes. Which suited Fancy, who never attended Sunday services.

Stepan faced her at ceremony’s end and brushed his lips against hers. He recognized the love shining at him from the depths of her violet gaze and knew all would be well.

She was beautiful. She was his. She carried his baby.

A happily-ever-after future beckoned them.

“Are you ready to begin your new life, Princess?”

“You have made all my girlish dreams come true.”

“I thought you disliked aristocrats,” Stepan whispered, guiding her down the aisle.

“You persuaded me otherwise.” Fancy gave him a coy smile and dropped her gaze below his waist. “Very persuasive.”

A short time later, with harpists playing in the background, Stepan and Fancy stood in Inverary House’s ballroom to greet their guests. With them stood the Duke and Duchess of Inverary as well as Prince Rudolf, the official heads of the Campbell and Kazanov families.

“You have met Cousin Amber and her husband, the Earl of Stratford,” Stepan reminded Fancy.

“You never sang for my roses,” Princess Amber said.

“I will sing for your roses,” Fancy said, “whenever my operatic schedule allows.”

Princess Amber looked confused and shifted her gaze to Stepan. He hoped his cousin would not comment on his wife’s career.

“On behalf of my roses,” Amber said, recovering herself, “I appreciate your generosity.”

Lady Althorpe, the duchess’s crony, stood before them. “So,” the older woman said, “this beauty caused your misbehavior on the opera’s opening night.”

Stepan heard Rudolf chuckling. He flushed when his bride looked at him.

“Your husband’s adoration created near pandemonium in the boxes,” Lady Althorpe told her. “I could scarcely hear the singing.”

“How interesting,” Fancy murmured. “I promise my husband will behave from now on.”

“I do not doubt that with you beside him,” Lady Althorpe said, and then moved on.

Stepan squelched the urge to throttle the old crone. Beating an old lady would not suit for a prince.

The Duke of Essex and his grandson, the Marquess of Basildon, offered their best wishes. Alexander Blake lifted his longtime friend’s hand to his lips.

“I thought you weren’t interested in inheritances,” Fancy said.

Alexander grinned. “And I thought you disliked aristocrats.”

“I was very persuasive,” Stepan said. “Or so my bride tells me.”

“You proved me wrong.” Alexander offered the prince his hand in friendship. “I’m glad you did.”

Stepan shook the marquess’s hand. “I am glad I did, too.”

When the Blakes left to find their seats, Rudolf whispered, “Here comes trouble.”

Stepan grinned at his nieces’ smiles.

“You have not met all my ladies,” he told his bride. “Princess Zara, at the venerable age of twelve, is Rudolf’s oldest, and these young ladies holding hands are Sally and Elizabeth, Viktor’s and Mikhail’s daughters, respectively.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintances,” Fancy said. “Now that your uncle and I are married, we will look forward to hosting a tea party.”

Stepan crouched down, eye level with his nieces. “What happened while I was away?”

“The Earl of Goodness ruined Princess Sunshine,” Natasia informed him.

Stepan feigned horrified dismay. “How did he—?”

“They loped,” Elizabeth said.

Sally nodded. “To Greta Green.”

“Uncle, darling,” Roxanne drawled like the duchess, “Sunshine needed a husband, if you know what I mean.”

Stepan laughed and then gave his attention to the smallest. “What do
you
say about this?”

“Lady Gossip talked too much and lost her voice.” Lily wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Uncle.”

“And I love you, sweetheart.”

“What about us?” Roxanne demanded.

“I love you and you and you…” Stepan pointed at each niece and declared his love. He stood then and drew his bride into his arm. “I love you most of all.”

“I love you, too.” Fancy planted a kiss on his lips to the music of little girls’ giggling.

Once the guests had been greeted, Stepan and Fancy took their seats for the meal. The head table had been set along one of the rectangular chamber’s short walls. Two long tables, each seating one hundred, stood perpendicular to the head table.

Prince Rudolf stood to speak and lifted his champagne flute for a toast. “The newest Kazanov princess is beautiful, loving, and forgiving. Fancy will need the last trait in order to live with my baby brother. To the bride.”

Stepan stood next to address the guests. “The first time I met her, Fancy said I needed gainful employment.” He waited for the laughter to die. “I decided the only position I wanted was that of her husband.” He smiled at her and lifted his champagne flute. “To my beautiful bride.”

After the toasts, Tinker directed the footmen in serving the meal. Their Graces had ordered a lavish feast, suitable for the marriage of a prince and a duke’s daughter.

Stepan leaned close, resting his arm on the back of his bride’s chair. “You are not eating, my love.”

“I have never attended a wedding.” The excited gleam in her eyes reminded him of his nieces. “When can we leave without raising eyebrows?”

Stepan brushed his lips against her ear. “You are eager to begin our married life?”

“I am eager to pleasure my prince.”

“You do realize I married you for the workings of your mind?”

“We make a winning team,” Fancy said. “London’s newest prima donna and her adoring patron.”

Damn
, Stepan thought, keeping his expression placid. He had blundered by ignoring the subject of her returning to the opera. Why didn’t she realize singing onstage was inappropriate for a princess? Was she waiting for him to say the words? He refused to ruin his wedding night with the first argument of their marriage.

“We do make beautiful music together.” His black gaze smoldered with desire. “We can leave now if you like.”

Her smile was invitingly coy. “I like…”

Wanting to leave and walking out the door proved entirely different.

Custom required that the bride and groom stay longer than meal’s end. Custom required that the happy couple dance. Custom required that they make the rounds and thank the guests.

Or so the Duchess of Inverary insisted.

Fancy did not see the need to thank the guests for attending. They
had
enjoyed a free feast.

In the end, Stepan masterminded their escape. He whispered in the duchess’s ear that the babe sickened his bride, and she needed to retire.

“If I had known the magic excuse”—Fancy stepped out of the coach in front of her husband’s Grosvenor Square mansion—“I would have slumped over the poached salmon.”

Stepan laughed and, without warning, scooped her into his arms. He set her down inside the foyer where members of his small household staff waited to greet them.

“On behalf of the staff, I wish you felicitations on your nuptials,” the majordomo said.

“Thank you, Bones.”

The majordomo gestured to the footmen and maids to return to their duties.

Stepan put an arm around Fancy. “Bones will be interviewing applicants for lady’s maid, and you will choose from the finalists.”

“I don’t need a maid.”

“A princess without a lady’s maid is unseemly,” Stepan said. “You will accustom yourself to the life in no time at all.” He ushered her across the foyer toward the stairs, saying over his shoulder to the majordomo, “You will advertise for nannies once the lady’s maid is employed.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Then Bones added, “We have plenty of time to consider nannies.”

“We have less than nine months.”

Fancy felt the blood rushing to her face. She peeked at the majordomo, who was gaping at his employer.

“Serve us a light supper in the connecting bedchamber later.” Stepan gave Fancy a wolfish smile. “I will give you the tour tomorrow, my love. We have more important activities scheduled at the moment.”

“Will there be anything else, Your Highness?”

“Privacy.”

Bones blushed. “Yes, Your Highness.”

The master bedchamber was as masculine as the man. Drawing the eye first was an enormous curtained bed spacious enough for a tall man like the prince. The blue brocade bedcurtains matched the coverlet, and a chaise of carved oak perched at the end of the bed. Its matching sofa and two chairs stood in front of a black marble hearth. Bay windows faced west over the garden.

“I will play the lady’s maid today.”

Stepan unfastened the gown’s buttons and ran a finger up the delicate column of her spine. He felt her trembling from his touch already, their three-evening forced separation having affected her the same as it did him.

Stepan thought there was something to be said for seducing the bride before the wedding. No fears and no tears made for a happy groom.

Leaning close, Stepan pressed his face against the heavy curtain of her hair. He loved her scent. Lifting her hair, he tickled the nape of her neck with his tongue.

She sighed and leaned against him. He wrapped his arms around her and cupped her breasts.

“Did you remember that old superstition?”

Fancy turned in the circle of his arms and kissed him. She pushed him toward the chaise and, when he sat down, lifted her right leg onto the chaise beside him.

Stepan suffered her teasing with an appreciative smile. His bride lifted the edge of her gown slowly and pulled a lace handkerchief tucked under a blue garter. After waving it in front of his face, she said, “Something old.” Then she dropped it on the chaise.

“I want my lips where the handkerchief was.” His voice was husky.

“Soon, husband.”

“Tell me, princess.” Stepan relaxed back to enjoy the show. “How do you wipe your nose on French lace?”

“A French lace handkerchief is a lady’s accoutrement, not a nose wiper.”

Stepan laughed. “Please continue undressing.”

“Something new.” Fancy stepped out of her wedding gown and set it across the sofa. She posed in front of him wearing only her chemise, silk stockings, and blue garters.

And a seductive smile.

Stepan loved her air of sultry vulnerability. Especially the sultry.

“Something borrowed.” Fancy placed her right leg on the chaise again and rolled the garter and silk stocking down. She lifted her left leg onto the chaise and rolled that garter and stocking down. “Something blue.”

Stepan stood and drew her chemise-clad body into his embrace. He kissed her lingeringly, savoring her scent and her taste, the feel of her in his arms and the sound of her purr. When he broke the kiss, her chemise dropped to the floor.

“Your breasts are heavy.” He cupped them in his hands and caressed their tips with his thumbs. “Your nipples are large and dark. Already, our baby is changing your body.”

Fancy wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want you inside me, husband.”

Stepan kissed her, her sexy words inciting his emotions. “Sweetheart, I am still dressed. Sit on the bed and let me disrobe for you.”

Sitting naked in front of him did not embarrass Fancy. She loved her husband and would bare her heart, her mind, her soul.

Her prince was walking temptation. She had known that from the moment he appeared in her dressing room on opening night.

Stepan shrugged out of his jacket and waistcoat. “Something old,” he said, making her smile.

After unfastening his cravat, Stepan tossed it over his shoulder and winked at her. “Something new.”

Stepan lost his shoes and hose next. He held her gaze captive while unfastening his shirt and then tossed it aside.

Fancy dropped her gaze to his chest. His magnificent chest with its matting of black hair.

“Something borrowed.” Stepan reached into his trouser and produced a gold pocket watch. “Compliments of Rudolf.” He placed it on the bedside table.

“And something blue.” Stepan gave her an exaggerated wink and dropped his trousers. There stood her husband wearing peacock blue silk drawers.

Fancy shrieked with laughter and fell back on the bed. A moment later, having lost his drawers, Stepan lay on top of her.

“Good fortune will favor us,
ma petite
.”

Fancy placed the palms of her hands on his cheeks. “Fortune smiled at me the day you walked into my life.”

“I love you, wife.”

“I love you, husband.”

He moved onto his back. And she moved with him.

Fancy lay on top of the muscled planes of his body and sprinkled dozens of kisses across his face, his lips, his chin. Lower and lower, she slid to press her face against his groin.

Her husband groaned. Which sounded like music to her.

Fancy held his growing erection in her hand and then took it inside her mouth. She sucked on it, swirling her tongue around its head. When he grew too big to take inside her mouth, Fancy flicked her tongue out and licked it up and down, down and up.

Stepan grasped her upper arms and pulled her on top of him. He traced a long finger between her buttocks.

“You have such sweet etcetera.” Gently, Stepan rolled her onto her back. He kissed her face, her neck, her breasts. Brushing his lips down her fluttering belly, Stepan pressed his face between her thighs.

“I love your scent.” He flicked his tongue out, separating her lips, and slashed upward in sweet torture.

“I want you,” Fancy moaned. “Please.”

Stepan rose and gently pulled her to the edge of the bed. Lifting her legs, he hooked them over his shoulders and slowly pushed himself inside her until their groins touched.

“I do not want to hurt the babe or you.” His voice was hoarse with desire and the struggle to control himself.

“You won’t hurt us.”

Stepan moved then, slowly at first. He caressed her moist heat with long strokes and then ground himself against her.

Fancy met him thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke. Her nerves were rioting with the exquisite pleasure of possession.

“I love you…” Fancy pulled him down and kissed him. She flew over pleasure’s precipice, her soft, wet heat contracting around him.

Stepan groaned and shuddered, pouring his love inside her. He fell to the side and pulled her into his arms.

And then they slept.

The sound of knocking awakened Fancy. She opened her eyes and, judging from the chamber’s dimness, knew that twilight was aging into night.

Muttering indistinct words, Stepan rolled out of bed and shrugged into a bedrobe. He shut the bedcurtains, protecting her from prying eyes.

Fancy heard low voices but could not understand the words. The door clicked shut.

“Supper awaits us in the next chamber.” Stepan sat on the edge of the bed and traced a finger down her cheek. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m famished.” Fancy smiled drowsily and sat up. “I need something to wear.”

Stepan dressed her in her chemise and set the crown of orange blossoms on top of her head. Taking her hand in his, he led her into the connecting chamber.

Bones had placed a small table near the open window. A gentle breeze flirted with the curtains and perfumed the room with summer’s fragrances.

Uncovering platters revealed buttered lobster casserole and stuffed artichokes. Another plate contained cheeses, nuts, and cubed fruit.

“What does our daughter want to eat?” Stepan asked.

Fancy made a show of inspecting each offering. “Our daughter wants to taste everything.”

Stepan filled her plate before helping himself. “Do you want wine or lemon water?”

“Lemon water,” she answered. “I do not want to risk giving birth to a drunkard.”

“I am glad you love our daughter as much as I do.”

“This will make an excellent newborn nursery,” Fancy said, “and once our daughter is weaned, we can move her to a big-girl nursery with the nanny we hire.”

“This is your bedchamber.”

“That is my chamber.” Fancy pointed in the direction of his room. “I want to care for my own newborn.”

Her husband looked surprised. “All day?”

“Most mothers do.”

“Those mothers are poor. I am thinking of your comfort.”

“I feel comfortable caring for my own baby.”

“Whatever you want, princess.” Stepan could not help thinking his wife considered her opera days finished. After all, she could not care all day and night for their baby and sing onstage. He lifted a velvet box from the pocket of his robe. “Happy wedding day, my love.”

Fancy opened the box and stared in surprise at her gift. The matching necklace, bracelet, and earrings had been created in oval-cut sapphires and diamonds set in platinum.

“How beautiful,” she whispered.

“The beauty of these jewels cannot compare with yours,” Stepan said smoothly. The outrageous compliment sounded sincere coming from him. “You will wear these when we attend the opera.”

Fancy lifted her gaze from the sapphires and diamonds to him. Was there a message in his statement? She had no desire to argue on her wedding night and would put her response aside until the end of the week.

“I have a gift for you in my case,” she said. “Where did Bones hide it?”

“Look in the dressing room.” Stepan watched her walking across the bedchamber and admired the natural sway of her hips. He could hardly wait to see her heavy with his child and waddling around the house.

Fancy reappeared with a package the size of a small painting. “Open it.”

Stepan looked from her excited expression to the package. He could not recall the last time a woman had given him a gift. Not since before his mother…That was not a good memory for his wedding day.

After removing the wrapping, Stepan set the framed document on the table. He stared at it for a fraction of a second and then shouted with laughter. Inside a gold frame was a letter of recommendation from his wife, a calligrapher’s artistry apparent.

“I thought you could use that.”

“Come here.” Stepan pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. Then he read part of the framed letter. “‘What His Highness lacks in experience and skill is mitigated by his enthusiasm’…This is the most wonderful gift I have ever received. I love you.”

Fancy rested her head on his shoulder. “And I love you.”

“I love you more.”

She touched his dark, stubbled cheek. “I love you the biggest number in God’s universe.”

“I love you the same amount.” His lips twitched into a smile. “Plus one…”

Heavy rains cocooned them from the outside world. The master bedchamber became their universe. The enormous bed was their kingdom.

On Tuesday morning, Fancy awakened to her husband’s hand caressing her buttocks. She opened her eyes to find him sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Good morning, Princess.”

She gave him a drowsy smile.

His hand traced the curve of her hip. “I brought you bread.”

“How did you—?”

“The duchess told me what to do,” Stepan said. “As did Rudolf, Samantha, Viktor, Regina, and Mikhail.”

Fancy nibbled on the bread. “What a helpful family you have.”

Stepan gestured to the window. “It is raining.”

After finishing the last crumb of bread, Fancy tugged at his robe’s belt and rubbed the palm of her hand across his chest. “I don’t need sunshine, husband.”

They fell back on the bed, he on top of her….

Stepan awakened on Wednesday morning to the rhythmic beating of rain against the windows and the exquisite feeling of his wife’s silken fingertips caressing his chest. He opened his eyes to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, noting her nightgown and bedrobe.

“I ate my bread and ventured into Feliks’s domain.” Fancy pointed at the covered dishes on a tray sitting on the bedside table.

“You cooked me breakfast.”

“Just like poor people.”

Stepan pulled the belt of her robe. “You are wearing too many clothes.”

Fancy rose from the bed and shrugged the robe off. Catching his eye, she pushed the nightgown’s straps off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

“That is much better.” Stepan reached out and caressed the heat between her thighs.

Fancy crawled on the bed and pressed her nakedness to his. She lay on top of him….