Red Wine For Miss Parker - Another very romantic Comedy (Delicious Regency by Ruby Royce, Book 2) (9 page)

"I will do as my brother bids me."

"Good. I knew you'd be reasonable. I bid you adieu, Clara."

"Adieu, James."

He bowed to her and she curtsied. Then he was gone.

She ran into her bedroom and threw herself onto her bed. But there were no colourful daydreams to be found. And they would never come again.

She was convinced he did not care for her at all. It was all smooth and well-reasoned. As always.

Outside of Clara's Chambers

James Crawford, The Earl of Darlington, was fighting the desperate urge to turn around, walk back in, take her in his arms, kiss her pouting lips and tell her how much he loved her, how long he had endured this torture of wanting her, ever since she had started to grow into that wild and breathtakingly beautiful young woman he had just been talking to. How many nights had he sought relief with other women, trying to get the girl with the liquid cornflower eyes and the tangling mane of gold out of his mind? How much money had he spent in brothels on forgetting his best friend's way too young sister? Four years of feverishly trying to expel her from his thoughts had ended in what? — marrying her?
 

She was not too young anymore, but she was still so innocent and vulnerable at heart, always with her head in the clouds. She was a whirlwind sometimes but a whirlwind in a corn field on a clear blue day. What was she to do with a rotten creature like himself?
 

From a dynastic point of view it made all the sense in the world to marry her, his mother would be delighted. But from a human prospective it was a disaster.

Why on earth had he said that he would marry her? Why had Dominic pushed him there? He should have known better, being one of the few who knew what lay beyond the stern and noble facade of the Earl of Darlington.

Too late now. He would marry her but he would keep himself in check, be considerate and wise. Above all, he would keep her well protected from that other life of his.

Palazzo Sforza, midnight

"Ha! As if I cared! I don't care one bit! Not at all! Not for him, or for anybody! I will take the veil. Be a nun. I'll make a vow of poverty and silence. No, only poverty. Silence won't do for me. I'll be a babbling nun, saying all the things I want without disturbing anybody. I'll be sitting in a cell high up in the mountains, looking out across the world with nobody trying to marry me off to some lord or other. What a blessing that would be. I'd not stay in England, nononono, I would have to go somewhere with plenty of red wine. I find it a most delicious beverage and I shall have another glass of it right now.

Ah! Better! Oh, this must be a magic potion, I feel so light at heart. I don't think I ever had more than two glasses before… I should be interested to see what happens after three or four… Who knows?
 

Maybe I'm simply going to be a drunkard. Then I can forget everything. Everybody. Especially one everybody. Oh, I wish I could forget him.
 

I shall, he's going away to Mexico, isn't he?
 

Gigi told me when she came up in the afternoon to say how sorry she was. Ah, but she can't have known it had not been her I'd really been talking to, it had been him! It was he alone who was to know that I really did not want to get married at all and that I was not an ambitious little schemer! Oh, that shameful moment when he read those silly names in my diary. How silly and stupid he must have thought me! I can't bare it! I'll have to have more wine.

OH NO! I hadn't thought of it before. Does he think I'm in love with him? Because I wrote those names? Does he think I'm an infatuated little girl who puts his name to hers? That's a dreadful idea, but, everything considered, that's what he really must think! When I remember what I said to him even before, how I went on and on, oh help! No. I can't let it stand like that, with my honour at stake!"

Flora staggered out of bed.
 

When she finally stood upright, shaking slightly, she looked about herself. Somehow the world was not as solid as it used to be.

Why had she been getting up? Right, to talk to the prince.
 

But where was he? She pondered the question for a while. Then she remembered that the Prince did not live in Palazzo Sforza at all but on the other side of the lake.

She was on the stairs leading down carrying the three-quarters empty whine bottle along.
 

Could she walk there? No… that was too far, twenty miles at least, she guess. He would have left once she'd got there.

Swimming? He would do that. She could, it came to her, not swim at all as far as she remembered. She could try, of course, it could not be as hard as that? She waddled through the dark corridors and into the drawing room. She opened the french window and stepped out into the park. The moon was shining brightly, a sharp crescent, like a dagger from the orient.

"Hello doggies… pardon me…" Flora said to the watchdogs who wiggled their tails sleepily as she passed them.
 

She reached the lakefront and considered jumping into the water, when she had a better idea.

"Boat…" she mumbled and swayed towards the landing stage. "Need a boat, yes?"
 

There were three or four larger barges but also a few smaller rowing boats for individuals. Flora stumbled into the one closest to her. "Ha!" she declared. "Watch out, Francesco Karlsburg, I'm coming!"
 

She began to row but after a few strokes she realised that she was not advancing. She giggled stupidly. "The rope! Ha! I'm an idiot." She stood up again and, in what could be considered a breathtaking manoeuvre, she freed the boat from the pier.
 

Flora sat, took the rows into her hands and started out into the night.

"We shall see, huh? We shall see what you think of me, once I'm done with you, Princeypincey!"
 

She pulled and pulled and pulled. All the while she kept mumbling to herself. Occasionally, she took a sip from the bottle, but after about half an hour it was empty. "Bloody thing…" she swore and threw it into the water.
 

Fortunately it was a straight line from Palazzo Sforza to the protruding peninsula on which Francesco's residence stood for Flora had no idea how she would have been able to stir the thing.
 

After an hour of rowing she hit against a stony shore, just underneath a magnificent white baroque caslte. Much to Flora's discomfort, the fresh night air and the exercise had diminished the wine's effect and she was not as courageous as she had been before.
 

What now?

It turned out that Francesco's watchdogs did
not
know her and soon they were barking and howling until a few lights came rushing down from the castle towards her. As they approached Flora saw that they were torches carried by soldiers. All of them armed up to the teeth.

They looked quite startled to find a tiny girl in a white nightgown, sitting in a boat and trying to control her facial features.

"Ma Signorina, cosa fa? Chi è? Ha avuto un incidente?"

Flora understood that they wanted to know who she was.

"Flora…" she pointed at herself. "Parlare con il Principe!"

They stared in bafflement.
 

"Flora Parker. Palazzo Sforza! Surrey! Duca inglese è mio amico! Cugino of the bloody Principe… whatever. My italian is finished here. Get me to the Prince, now will you?"

Castello Maggiore, about 1:30 am

Francesco was instantly awake as he heard the dogs barking. His sleep had been restless anyway since he had delved in and out of unpleasant dreams for several hours.
 

He lit a candle by the bedside and glanced at a small clock on his bed-side table.

Burglars? Here? He did not believe it. But what had gotten the dogs into such a state?
 

He heard the soldiers talking amongst each other from somewhere near the shore, but they were too far away for Francesco to make out what they were saying.
 

A few moments later there was a knock on his door.

"What is it?"
 

"Signore, signore!
C'è una ragazza!
There's a girl!" the head-footman's voice sounded through the thick wooden door.

"A what?"

"A girl!"

"Where? What? Open the door so I can hear you properly."

The door opened and the man's head protruded through the opening.
 

"Signore, there's a girl come in a boat! She says she wants to see you?"

"A girl came in a boat? Who is she?" Francesco, still
 
in bed, sat bolt upright.

"Her name is Flora."

The prince stared at his servant in utter disbelief.
 
"Is this a joke?"

"No! No, Signore, she's in a boat down by the shore! It is true, I swear!" The man nodded emphatically.

"Get out. I'll be right down."

Francesco jumped out of his bed, rushed towards the door, found that he was stark naked and screamed for his valet.

A few minutes later, dressed in black trousers and a white shirt he raced through his garden towards the shore and, like a fairy from a tale, there she sat, in a white nightgown with her dark hair framing her pretty face.

"
Via, via!
Go away!" he shouted to his soldiers who ran away like scattered geese. It was much darker instantly, but the bright moonlight was enough for him.

"There you are…" she said in a resigned tone but she did not look at him.

"There I am? Flora, are you— ? Of course I am here, I live here, but why are
you
here?"

She nodded a little to herself.
 

Then she finally looked up at him with her large eyes, blinked a few times and said "I have to tell you that I don't love you." She nodded some more and pursed her lips.

Her words hurt like a knife, but there was something odd about the way she spoke.

"Flora, are you drunk?"

"Yes, I think I am. I think I am rather drunk."
 

He sighed. "Flora…"

"You've never called me that before, you know, you've always called me Miss Parker, I think, and Miss Parker I shall remain until the day I die, just so you understand, I don't want to marry you!" She was shivering. The thin material of her nightgown moved against her breasts and he could see the nipples pushing through the cloth.
 

He was at once so aroused that he forgot all the proprieties. He took hold of her hand and pulled her into a standing position, then he lifted her out of the boat and set her to the ground in front of him.

"I'm being carried a lot recently…" she commented in mid-motion. "By you, by Surrey, everybody seems to want to carry me… It must be because I'm such a lightweight object."

"Yes," the Prince said hoarsly.

She held on to him, obviously not able to stand on her own very well.
 

Is she that drunk or is she shaking from her little boat trip?

"You know, I really had to come after today's events," she went on. "I did not want you to think that I was having silly girls' dreams about marrying you."

"I never thought that," he managed to say. He felt her hands on his chest. He wanted to feel them everywhere.

"No? You didn't?" she gazed inquiringly up at him. "That's strange."

There was that perfume again! Lillies of the valley and something else. It was mouthwatering and intoxicating. Francesco had not much patience left in his suffering body, his loins were aching with desire for her.

"We have to go inside," he whispered.

"Oh, do we?" Flora turned away as if she wanted to start out towards the house, but Francesco held her by the shoulders.

"No, actually we don't."
 

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hotly on the mouth, bearing down on her, releasing the violent craving that had built up in him ever since that fateful night at the opera.
 

She was at first completely stiff, but it did not last long, only a second later she was melting against him, answering his kiss. A wave of sheer joy rushed through him. She wanted him too!
   

 
And so he lay her down in the grass, a few yards away from the shore. Her arms were reaching up around his neck, her fingers were in his hair.
 

He released her lips for a moment.

"I don't care if you don't love me."

"But I do, I think, at least, I don't know anymore what I'm feeling… ," she breathed. "I just don't want to marry you… I can't marry you! You're a Karlsburg and I'm just a baronet's daughter."

He was above her. Feeling her tender body beneath him, warm and ready. But he had not forgotten her passionate speech in the morning so he thought he should not push her.

"Then be my mistress." He kissed her again. "Come away with me. As my lover. I want you so badly, Flora, it's driving me insane."
 

"Really? Oh… I think I like that…" she pulled him down towards her.

"So will you come with me, will you love me, without a ring, without a title, and just be my woman?"

She
 
looked at him with those orchid eyes, searchingly, longingly. Then she nodded.

"Yes, I will. Please, make me your woman."

And so he did.

Don't worry, we're still in Francesco's garden

Flora's nightgown was quickly removed. The night air blew gently over her stomach as he pulled it off. Immediately she yearned for his hot body to cover her with its warmth.
 

She was not drunk on wine anymore, she was drunk on love.
 

She had expected everything but this. She had expected him to yell at her, or to simply send her back to Palazzo Sforza, but when he had suddenly pulled her towards him, she knew she had been right all along. He had whispered her name at the Scala! He was the man who was always meant for her, he was her mate, what did it matter that he was an imperial prince, she did not have to be his wife, as long as she could be kissed by him, and held by him, she would be happy. Deliriously happy.