Authors: Suzette Hollingsworth
Suddenly she turned on him, as if an idea had occurred to her. “Tell me, Prince Alejandro, do you enjoy your own companionship?”
“I don’t take your meaning, Señorita…
Lady
Nicolette.”
“It is very simple. Do you take pleasure in your own company? Do you revel in who you are? Do you provide yourself with entertainment? Do you delight in your opinions?”
“It doesn’t concern me, Lady Nicolette.” He laughed, unable to help himself. He was otherwise frozen as he watched her.
“It doesn’t
concern
you?” She raised her eyebrows in undisguised disapproval. “I do not wish to be as one who denies life, constantly seeking to avoid attachment, with the intent to never feel. I wish to live, to experience, to grab life by the horns. What else is the point? There is much suffering in life, for everyone. If we must suffer, then let us
live
. If we are not to live, then let us die and be with our Creator.”
“It will come soon enough. Hopefully we will have fulfilled our duty when it comes.”
“No, Prince Alejandro.” She shook her head, her long black hair swinging back and forth. “I will embrace life with all of my senses. I will live with the gusto of the bullfighter, I will sing until my voice is hoarse, I will run with the wind, I will taste the wine, I will shout to the stars. I will love, I will feel pain.”
You will make us all feel pain
.
“But I will not be the plaything of a man who is so afraid to live that he only feels when he is escaping from his own life.” She turned toward him abruptly, her hips swaying as she walked. “If you do not like your life, Your Highness, then make another one. Abdicate the throne. Leave it for someone who embraces the calling. If you cannot embrace it, then leave it, I beg you.”
“You are charming but very naive, Lady Nicolette,” he replied, smiling to himself. “I do not wish the position. But it is mine nonetheless.”
“You must either change your life or learn to love the life which you perceive as your duty. What is it that you love, Prince Alejandro?” she demanded, persisting, her voice returning.
“Sailing, fencing, riding, music, and…” he responded, his voice low and even. His dark eyes settled on her, and she seemed suddenly agitated.
“And?” she asked.
He said nothing, hoping his eyes did not betray him.
“And what is preventing you from enjoying these activities?” She gulped, struggling to find words for the first time in his acquaintance with her, to his satisfaction.
“I do enjoy them, Señorita…Lady Nicolette,” he drawled, his eyes slowly moving over her. “Very much.”
“Please, do not inconvenience yourself on my account.” She moved those lush, full lips slowly, sensually. “You may address me as ‘Señorita’ if it pleases you, Your Highness.”
“It does.” A slow, easy smile formed on his lips, and he saw that it had the desired effect. He ran one hand through his hair as he studied her.
He suddenly grew somber. It was time to put an end to this pointless banter. Its only purpose was to arouse him when there was no hope of satisfaction.
“It would be a shame if you never became king and yet forfeited your entire life to that end,” she murmured.
“Why should that be a shame? My life is not my own. I will serve as I am called.”
“Because you made a great sacrifice for no reason.” She paused, whirling toward him. “You have everything at your fingertips and embrace
nothing
.”
“I embrace more than you might think.”
“And how does my singing fit into this? How do
I
fit in? Women are nothing but a diversion for you. Your one release—your one
escape
—from your life.”
“It is my only vice.” He was perplexed. Of what concern could it be of hers?
“This is what women are to you? A
vice
? Oh!” He could almost see the flames shooting out of her eyes as she moved closer to him. She clenched her fists and shook them at the prince of Spain.
“No, you are
perfection
, Señorita Nicolette.” They stared at each other, unable to move.
“I know that you perceive me to have many faults, Prince Alejandro,” she murmured softly.
“Did I say that you had a fault? No, you please me immensely, Señorita Nicolette. I thought I said as much.” He studied her with no small amount of pleasure. “But since you ask. Your faults…hmmm…one must dig deep to find any fault in you. If you have a fault, Lady Nicolette, it is the same which you accuse me of having, that of not living.”
“Not living?” she exclaimed, stifling laughter. She eased back down on the couch, her sideways glance with those exotic eyes particularly inviting. “That is absurd! I have risked everything—reputation, standing, a life of leisure—so that I might live. So that I might experience all that life has to offer! Now I know that you are truly mad!”
“No, Señorita Nicolette, you have risked everything so that you might do precisely as you wish and live in an imaginary world where you are worshipped and adored.” He chuckled, moving to refill his glass. He motioned to her with the decanter, and she shook her head impatiently, clearly awaiting his response. It filled him with a strange pleasure that she was anxious for his opinion. He returned to sit beside her on the couch, insuring that there was some distance between them.
“I only live in that world some of the time, it is my guilty pleasure, and I know it. There is a balance to my life. I know my responsibilities, and I know when it is time to stop playing theatre. You, on the other hand, don’t know how to live in any setting in which you are not center stage.”
“And what is your definition of living, Your Highness?” she demanded.
“It is quite simple. To know one’s destiny and to fulfill it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Oh! Lovely girl! Oh, sweet face
Bathed in the soft moonlight.
I see in you the dream
I’d dream forever!
—Giacomo Puccini,
La Bohème
“You hold me in disdain for thinking well of myself at the same time I clearly possess something you hold in regard.” Though her gaze remained determined, her expression suddenly softened as she stared at him.
That was an understatement of momentous proportions.
“Of course you should hold yourself in regard, Señorita Nicolette.” He raised his glass to her, taking another sip of sherry. “As long as you are able to keep in mind that there are higher ideals in life than service to Nicolette.”
“Nothing gets through to you.” She moved very near to him, and he felt his breathing increase. “Do you feel
nothing
?”
That would be a vast improvement. “What should I feel, Señorita Nicolette? I see that loyalty, devotion, and discipline are insufficient for you.”
“What about joy, Prince Alejandro? Do you ever feel joy?”
“Joy?” he asked, sliding slightly away from her as he finished his glass a bit too abruptly and returned it to the table. He was never uncomfortable around women. He relished their proximity.
What is happening to me?
“Joy, bliss, happiness, pleasure. The thrill of being alive. The delight in being loved. To feel one’s spirit dance with the clouds or sing with the angels. Do you ever
feel
it?”
“Ah, joy.” He stared at her and had difficulty finding his words for some reason. “I am the ruler of a country in turmoil. My people are illiterate, poor, and underfed, unable to incorporate the technology which might move us forward, and yet we kill each other over our disagreements. This is the situation I face.”
“This is not yours to solve alone.”
“This is where you are wrong, Señorita Nicolette. I have some friends, I am blessed beyond measure to have Esteban, but it is not enough. I don’t have the support I need to go forward.” Somberly he added as the full weight of his words enveloped him, “As for my personal life, I have none. I do not have a family. I am not even allowed to make my own family—I must choose a wife to serve my country, which will in all probability be a loveless match.” He chuckled bitterly. “This is the perfect life you speak of, my charming Nicolette.”
“You are one of the most powerful men in the world, Prince Alejandro.” She stared at him, aghast. “What has happened to you that you feel so powerless?”
“Oh, I am not powerless,” he murmured. He could bear it no longer. He took her by the waist, but this time his hold was firm. The curve of her waist felt heavenly in his strong hands, and he was startled at the magnitude of his reaction. He kept his eyes glued to hers. Unable to resist her any longer, he determined that he would, at least, have one perfect moment. He bent to kiss her before his reason overtook him.
Her lips parted readily for him with none of the practiced hesitation he was accustomed to, as if she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. He loved that she was not afraid to show him that.
Oh, God, I want her.
He put his arms tightly around her waist, and she reached up and held his face in her hands. She moved closer, and he held her back in the crook of his arm, bending her backward so that he might delve more deeply into her mouth.
Their lips touched for the first time, and he felt as if he were floating down a warm river in an electric storm. He knew that he must pull back. She ran her hands through his hair, begging him to give her more.
“Alejandro,” she whispered. He heard the grandfather clock’s bells ringing
. One, two, three.
Against all of his better instincts, he deepened the kiss. He pressed her closer to his chest and ran his hand along her back until he reached the curve of her waist. He allowed his hand to slide along her waist, longing to feel the fullness of her hips. He pushed her closer.
Four, five, six.
Oh, lord, she was intoxicating. He felt as if he would explode.
He released her, brushing his lips against hers, teasing her, and then he delved his tongue into her mouth, her lips moving with his, so soft, so eager.
Seven, eight, nine.
She moved closer to him, running her hands along his arms, his chest, his face. He ran kisses along her face, his eyes wandering to her perfect, full breasts, revealed to perfection. How he longed to kiss them, to awaken her on every level, to…
Ten, eleven, twelve.
He pulled her to him in an instant, pressing her lips to his, her chest to his, her…He had probably bruised her in the impact. He had never kissed a woman like that.
What am I thinking?
He was shocked at his own arousal. With all the strength available to him, he straightened himself and slowly released her, dazed. He closed his eyes, seeking to break the spell she wove over him.
Opening his eyes, he glanced at the calendar. He had arrived here on March 31. He looked at the clock, one second past midnight.
April’s first kiss is mine.
“Forgive me, Nicolette,” he muttered.
Damn
, he wanted her.
“Forgive you for what?” She sighed, running her hands along her dress as if to straighten it.
“For forgetting who you are and what you mean to me. For forgetting who I am. I seem to do that a great deal in your presence, Señorita Nicolette.”
“Ah. For forgetting who you are and kissing the wholly unsuitable me.”
“No! Señorita Nicolette. You mistake me. I…”