Royal Bachelor (3 page)

“Anything’s possible.” She shrugged. “But we hardly know each other. I’m not about to give you my phone number.”

“Take mine?”

“No.”

“Don’t be difficult.”

“Excuse me?”

Luke backtracked hastily, raising his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” He expelled a breath through his mouth. “I got kicked out of my apartment in an unfamiliar city and you’re the first friendly face I’ve met in… awhile.” He shook his head. “I’m worse than you when it comes to temper.”

“I believe you.” And she looked fascinated, as if welcoming him as a challenger. It made him relax. “Give me your full name. I’ll find you,” she suggested. Luke could tell how grievously that embarrassed her because of the tell-tale red that flooded her face. But she met his gaze head on and didn’t take it back.

“Neville,” he said.

She blinked. “Neville?”

Luke thought fast. Yes, she could find him as Luke Neville. He didn’t have a surname otherwise. She knew Elmera. She probably knew about the House of Lorignac, which was only the ruling house of Elmera for over eight centuries.

“Lucian Neville, at your service, ma’am. My cousin’s Alfred Neville. We’re staying at his place in—the name escapes me. But it’s near here. Can I have your full name as well?”

She smiled apologetically. “No, you would have to go by Alice for now. You might have given me a real name or a fake name. I won’t stoop to that level but nor would I give you a chance to Google me.”

“You’re going to Google me?” Scary thought.
Shit
. ‘Lucian’ and ‘Neville’ together might deliver results, the kind with pictures. Alfred was well known as his bodyguard in the tabloids. Curse the man’s party-whore hide. Curse Luke’s tongue for loosening and giving the name Lucian.

But Alice looked as though she were trying to chew on a grin and blush at the same time. “Actually, I’m going to run your name with a cop friend.”

“But I’m from Elmera.”

“So you say.”

“Your view of humanity is quite bleak for someone who reads Dickens, isn’t it?” He smiled. He liked her incredulity and careful skepticism. She was nothing like the sycophantic guests he had entertained on the island, or his cynical and boorish “peers” always trying to one-up each other.

“I keep it low so I won’t end up crashing to the pavement and breaking my nose.” And she was honest. All his misgivings about leaving Elmera for the year faded under the promise of getting to learn about this woman.

“Your nose is safe with me,” he said. Only after the words came out did he realize he was being too forward, showing too much of his interest already. She would have to be carefully persuaded. She wasn’t like the women who leapt into his lap at the mention of his name.

She giggled, a lovely sound. She tucked her chin and sort of shook while laughing at her lap. She had pale strands of hair woven through her curly mane. He couldn’t tell under the light but they looked almost white. Fascinating.

“You know what; I’ll trust you with my nose after all. My three hours are up. Will you walk me out?”

He stepped down from his stool and had to restrain himself from helping Alice from hers. If he touched her, he was going to kiss her. He’d probably taste nuts and berries on her lips.

“I can hear you gritting your teeth,” Alice said as she shrugged into her winter coat.

“Were you a bat in a past life?” Luke returned, wrapping himself up in preparation for the barbaric winter.

They laughed companionably, almost as if she didn’t feel the frisson of delicious electricity between them. Luke watched her walk and considered her a shining beacon in Purgatario, leading him back to Earth. She was different. He momentarily wondered if all New York women were like Alice and the thought filled him with lust and abandon. But as he watched her free her mane of hair from the collar of her coat he wondered whether that could be possible. Maybe there were others like her somewhere, but he got the distinct feeling that Alice was special.

He trained his eyes on Alice’s hair; he wanted to sink his fingers through those unruly curls.

They reached the door too soon and he realized she would leave him now that she was free. He almost wanted to pull her back into the lifeless night club.

“It’s late. Are you going far?”he asked. Perhaps he could share a taxi with her, share another minute with her.

She hummed non-committedly. “I know my way. Do you know yours?”

Luke eyed the street. Plenty of taxis. He could call Alfred and ask the name of the place his apartment was on.

“Wow, you really do seem to be a transplant,” Alice said. “Are you sure you’ll get back?”

“Yes.” He was no longer looking at the street. The lights turned Alice’s eyes quite spectacular. Perhaps they were grey or green or blue. He couldn’t tell. “Listen. I want to see you again. Are you indeed going to find me? Can’t you give me a name? Any name? Something I can resort to in case you—”

“Strand.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Strand. You’ll find me with that.”

“I would? Thank you, Alice Strand.”

She laughed. “Can you say it in Elmeran?”

“
Ya crea qua esteya in peligro da perder a mi crazón a to
.”
He half-smiled to himself as he said it, hoping she might surprise him and understand his confession.

“That’s more than ‘thank you’, isn’t it?” she murmured. He truly adored her voice.

He lowered his head and grazed his lips on her cheek. Torture. She smelled of old spirits from the establishment that brought them together—and apples. Warm autumn apples, not the sticky-sweet artificial smell of green apples, but the musk of spice and season. He almost couldn’t bear to move his head back to his own personal space.

The red was back in her face.

“There’s no Elmeran online translation sites. Elmeran is mostly Spanish anyway, with native derivations. If you want to learn, you know whom to find.” He shouldn’t let the night end, he thought to himself. What about dinner at ten in the evening? Or perhaps coffee, that is what Americans do all the time, isn’t it? Would they drink coffee this late?

She was smiling and shaking her head, as if trying to dislodge the blood from her head. Luke pocketed his hands. The urge to touch her was overwhelming, but she was a woman who demanded to be asked and he had already trespassed too long.

“You—you
are
French, Spanish and Italian, aren’t you? Romance must make up ninety percent of your blood. A deadly combination,” she half-joked. “I almost hate that I met you.”

“I’ll be thinking of you too, Alice.
”

Ask her to go somewhere, ask her to stay
. But he couldn’t word the sentence in such a way that wouldn’t be pushy. He knew he would have to treat her differently, treat her as an equal.

She turned on her heel and left with a determined step, as though she had to before he could trap her. He watched her go, wondering if maybe he had let the best thing New York had to offer slip through his fingers.
Alice Strand
, he thought to himself with new resolve. He could find her again. She wouldn’t disappear and he got the feeling she didn’t want to.

He was still grinning when he finally made it back to Alfred’s apartment.

Luke’s family had a house in New York, but the security system hadn’t budged for them and they’d had to wait for it to be sorted by the right people. The trip had been last-minute with only his mother supporting his departure. His father’s people were the ones in charge of the house and Luke would have to alert them in order to get the house opened. If he alone were to attempt to disable the alarm it would call the police, and calling the police would call attention to the fact that the hereditary prince of the Elmerlands was in the U.S, which would ruin his entire experiment. Not to mention Luke wasn’t interested in doing courtesy calls or polishing his public persona. He was here to forget all that for a while.

Alfred wasn’t too happy about staying in his ‘lousy old apartment’. He’d compensated by calling an old flame to come over first thing and he’d dropped Prince Lucian off at Shark’s Point like dropping a dog off at the kennel.

“Welcome to America,” his cousin shouted before speeding away. Alfred had told him to go people-watching and said that the bar was ripe with characters. He had been more right than he had known.

Luke entered the apartment tentatively, ready to race to his room and turn up the stereo if he heard so much as a muffled grunt. Instead he knocked into Alfred, upending the bowl of popcorn his cousin was carrying.

“What the fuck?” shouted Alfred, already Americanized.

“Pardon,” Luke grinned. “What happened to the welcoming party?”

“Done and gone,” Alfred said, stooping to salvage whatever he could from the floor. Luke grimaced. He loved his cousin and the floor was relatively clean, but the man was a pig in more ways than one. He’d never ever introduce the swine to Alice. Luke couldn’t afford being associated with a womanizing, swearing oaf in the presence of someone like her.

“Have you ever read Dan Brown?” Luke asked.

“Reading is for school.” Alfred made a face before filling it with popcorn. “Why do you look so happy?” he asked through a mouthful. Luke tried to sidestep the question but he caught himself hesitating.

“Who is she?” Alfred guessed, pushing Luke toward the laptop on the living room couch. Alfred was a lout, but he was good at his job as Luke’s aide-cum-bodyguard. And Luke was tempted to dig up information on this mysterious muse, to determine whether she was real or simply a fantasy. Maybe she was a demon after all.

“Alice Strand. Dark hair. Grey eyes. I love her eyes. And her voice sort of slides over me like a hot bath.”

A half-chewed kernel fell out of Alfred’s mouth onto the floor. “Holy shit,” he mumbled.

“What?” Luke asked defensively.

“Nothing,
Your Highness
,” Alfred threw up his hands and set to work.

“How did it go?”

Rebecca was silent on the phone.

“Rebecca, I asked you, how did it go with Clay?”

“What do you mean how did it go with Clay? He’s in bed with a hot water bottle on his stomach and still being rehydrated. You’re the one who’s supposed to be telling me how your evening went.”

“Oh, fine. Nothing exciting.”

But Alice heard the quiver in her own voice.

“I’m coming over!” said Rebecca, who must have heard it too.

Rebecca had a key. Almost as soon as Alice hung up, she heard someone at her door. She tensed up. But of course it was only Rebecca. She must have teleported or something.

Alice was on the sofa, hugging her pillows, hiding beneath one and still seeing Luke’s face instead of the fabric. Rebecca ran over to her and started sobbing.

“Oh god, oh god, I’m so sorry. What happened to you? I’m calling Marsha and James—”

Alice surfaced from her memories and blinked up at her best friend. “What are you talking about? Why are you crying?”

Rebecca seemed to really look at her for the first time.

“Oh. Shit. You scared me!” Rebecca laughed, wiped at her eyes and regained color in her face. She bopped Alice with the pillow. “I thought—sorry. I was counting the minutes, you know. I wondered if we did bad sending you there. And you were having such a bad day. What if you met more bad luck in there? It was a stupid idea to send you alone. You’re such a naïve little girl, anyone could grab you or—”

“Maybe I did find some bad luck there.” Alice sighed.

Rebecca pulled her hair.

“Ow! What the—”

“You’re killing me here. You met someone? What happened? He can’t be your usual Shark’s Point guy?”

“No. He’s... different. He said he’s from Elmera.”

“Elmera?”

“The Elmerlands. It’s this small principality in Europe. An island off the coast of It—”

“What’s his name?”

“Luke Neville.”

“Neville? That’s not very sexy.”

“It’s a surname, historic actually. There’s—”

“What does he look like? Not like a
Neville
?” She sneered, giving the name a dorky connotation.

“Look, he’s Elmeran. They probably flirt on principle. He was flirting with someone else before I offended that woman and she walked off. And then instead of going after her, he saved his energy by just turning to me.”

Rebecca pulled her hair again. Alice told her everything.

Well, not everything. Her best friend didn’t have to know that Alice—rational, unromantic Alice who devoured books but was firmly and resolutely grounded in reality—had felt like one of those girls in fairy tales, who met a prince once and then sang about them thereafter. She was having a hard time finding a rhyme for “Elmera”.

“That’s... I have no words. Are you sure this really happened? You didn’t sit there and invent this to tease me and Clay and Marsha as payback?”