The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (35 page)

“And I have never met a more self-absorbed man!” she retorted.

“Self-absorbed!” He chuckled, letting his hand fall to his side. He knew that he should be angry, but it was all so amusing. “Proof that you cannot see beyond your own illusions, Lady Nicolette! Nothing about my life is about me.”

Until he had met her, that is. She made him forget everything that mattered to him.

“If not you, then whom?”

“My life is entirely and unequivocally about Spain. You may live for your own pleasure, but my life is for my country.”

“To the contrary, you see everything in regards to yourself, Prince Alejandro. I am only an extension of how you view yourself. I am not a person to you. No one is.” There were darts of anger in her eyes though her expression remained complacent.

“Is that what this tiresome discussion is about?” Suddenly comprehension dawned. “That I am not perceiving
you
, Lady Nicolette? That, for once in your life, someone is not falling on the ground before you?” He laughed without his accustomed restraint as the realization hit him.

He surprised himself at how easily the words poured forth when he was with her. Where was the control? Where was the guarded language?

“I feel no embarrassment for wishing to be seen and known, desires which you share however much you may protest.”

“Of course you don’t. Would Cleopatra? Would Lady Godiva?”

“Oh, you are obtuse!” She stomped her foot. “You
will
see me! And you will see that I am not
you
! I am not an extension of you nor of any man!”

He walked along the bookcase, scanning the contents, his eyes averted from her, which he knew would annoy her.
When Knighthood Was in Flower
, by Charles Major.
The Crisis
, by Winston Churchill. He picked up
The Virginian
, by Owen Wister, and began thumbing through it.

She followed him. As he suspected, she did not like his attention focused elsewhere.

“And, why, may I ask, did you not tell me that it was
you
who sang in the sultan’s palace, Nicolette?” he demanded, suddenly turning toward her. “Why are you determined to keep every last point about yourself a secret from me, at the same time venomously punishing me for that about you which I don’t know and with the clear goal of humiliating me?”

“You are not entitled to anything from me, Prince Alejandro! You are only entitled to that which you can discern for yourself, which, as it turns out, is very little!” She bit her lip. “Which does not excuse you from your judgments nor from your immediate transformation of every revelation about me into a statement about you!”

“Explain to me this, Lady Nicolette.” His voice grew very quiet. “Why it is necessary to hide who you are from me?”

“Because I want you to respect me even believing that I am a
mere
opera singer, not the daughter of an earl, not someone who…who…”

“Who once saved my life?” On a sudden impulse he put the book down and quickly closed the distance between them, taking her by the waist.

What terrible brand of insanity is this?
He never gave into his impulses. But other sensations were clouding his mind. He could feel the rough seam of her gown under his fingertips and longed to feel her skin beneath his fingertips. He felt the smallness of her waist in the crook of his hand. What he did not feel was any hesitation from her, which excited him all the more.

Instead of wanting to control or tame her, he was surprised to realize that he wanted to unleash her.

God save me
. His lips drew very close to hers, and he could feel her breath on his lips.

“And who will again,” he murmured softly, knowing it to be true.

She looked up at him defiantly, seemingly unconcerned by his grasp. Her eyes dared him to kiss her. He had been right. She was pleased to be the focus of his attentions.

“Decide, Nicolette. Decide what you want, and I will give it to you,” he uttered.

“What do
you
want, Alejandro?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

“More than anything in the world, I want to hear you sing privately to me. Only me.” He held her tightly, moving his lips toward hers, and he felt an instant and unexpected charge rush through his body even without their lips touching. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded hoarsely.

He released her as suddenly as he had taken her and stepped back, shaking his head. He was the crown prince of Spain, and he was asking
her
how she wished
him
to behave.

She practically had him on his knees. He turned and paced in front of the fireplace. Behind the desk, in proximity of the window, he saw a decanter of sherry and two glasses. He moved to the table, grateful to create some distance between them.

Without asking, he poured a glass for each of them, which she readily accepted. Without speaking she turned and sat in a winged-back Louis XV sofa in cream, olive, and muted plum, which faced the fireplace. She motioned to him to sit beside her, but he sat in an adjoining chair.

Alejandro was glad to have his hands occupied. The feel of her in his arms had been heavenly. She was confident, fiery, explosive.

He had wanted to kiss her with every fiber of his being, but he could not risk it. He had come too far, and he needed to see this through.

And she would no doubt kill him if he tried anyway. Lure the creature in and then stab it.

“All you want is your little recital, Prince Alejandro.” She tilted her head as she studied him. “You don’t see anything outside of that and your reign of Spain.”

“Not my reign of Spain. My service to Spain,” he corrected her, releasing his breath slowly. “I would not expect you to know the difference between service and reign, Lady Nicolette.”

She glared at him. He had finally broken through that serene façade, and the real Nicolette was emerging. He welcomed it.

“All of the privileges exist to serve the responsibility.” He took a swallow of the sherry, stretching his legs out before him, and turned to watch the water flowing over the fountain just outside the window. “I have servants so that I might give every waking hour to serving Spain. My life is not my own, my time is not my own, and nothing is for me. Everything that I am—my honors, my bloodline, everything—this all gives me the opportunity to serve my people. Nothing more.”

He returned his eyes to hers. Still she stared at him as if he were a madman.

Why could he explain nothing to her? It was elementary. He had known these truths before he could speak! This knowledge, this
way of being
, flowed in his blood.

He searched her eyes, suddenly desperate to see the realization there, desperate to be known by someone.

Damnation
, what was he thinking? He knew better than to reveal himself to any woman. And certainly not to this temptress.

“How can you believe that you mean
nothing
?” She stared at him as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She set the small crystal cordial glass, half-full, on the end table, her hand shaking. “Is this what you were raised to believe, Prince Alejandro?” She raised her hand as if to stroke his cheek though they were several feet away, and though she was seated, it rested there in midair for some seconds until she returned it to her side.

“Of course,” he answered simply.

“But didn’t your parents dote on you?” Surprise was written all over her face, and he couldn’t help himself, he reveled in the fact that she was utterly focused on him. “
Cherish
you?”

“Hmmm. Cherish me?” Laughter escaped from his lips. “No doubt they did from afar. I was sent away at eight years of age.”

“At eight years old?” she repeated, shaking her head, clearly disbelieving. “So young. When did you see them?”

“At Christmas and holidays.”

“But they must have missed you terribly, how could they bear…”

“They bore it as best they could,” he replied curtly, swirling his sherry.

“I realize it is not sufficient, but they telephoned and wrote you often, I’m sure.” Her eyes opened wide.

“No. Hardly ever.” As soon as he spoke the words, he wished he hadn’t. He should never have revealed as much as he did.

“Well, then, what is your responsibility”—she swallowed hard, and she seemed to have some difficulty regaining her composure—“to
yourself
and to your soul, Prince Alejandro?” She leaned toward him, still some feet away. He was certain he could have calculated the exact number of inches despite his difficulties in mathematics.

“My soul, Lady Nicolette, requires that I sacrifice myself for my country.” He replied somberly and in the simplest terms that she might understand.

“I cannot live like that.” Nicolette shook her head, her expression defiant. It occurred to him for the first time that her unusual gown complemented her demeanor perfectly. Like her, the gown was beautifully feminine and lush yet daring. “My life must have value to me.”

“And does it?”

“Very much.” She nodded, her mouth forming a whimsical smile. “Why not join me?”

“My life has value to me as well, Lady Nicolette, but I have been denied it. Life may be one amusement after another for you, but the lives of tens of thousands of people and the future of my country are in my hands.”

“I beg you, live for yourself for an hour, Prince Alejandro. No, you could not manage it. Ten minutes, then. Your country can spare you for ten minutes. Think to yourself, ‘What would I like to do in these ten minutes?’”

Abruptly, he set down his glass and moved to the couch, closing the distance between them. Slowly, gingerly, he ran the fingers of his right hand along her arm, and her skin transmitted an undeniable charge to his fingertips. He pulled her up too forcefully to stand beside him, somehow finding himself in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“
I know precisely what I would like to do
,” he whispered unevenly. Studying the depth of her gaze, he was shaken by how close she stood to him in every way, not merely in her physical presence, though that was a closeness which he sorely felt.

No one ever spoke to him so freely. Everyone either sought his approval or his demise. Outside of Esteban, no one conversed with him honestly.

He craved it. He craved
her
.

He was a fool to respond to her. Everything about her intensified his every sensation a hundredfold. He had never in his life experienced any person like this. He was struck by lightning every time she walked into the room.

“It is a difficult time in the world, and what we do now will shape the future,” he murmured in the most nonchalant tone he could muster, his lips inches from hers, so red and vibrant.

“Of course.”

“Should I ignore all this so that I might ponder what
I
want?” His voice came out hoarse and barely audible.

“I begin to wonder if you know, Alejandro,” she whispered, her breath on his skin.

Oh, he knew.
As his eyes caressed her ivory-white skin, he knew. He forced a smile, fighting himself with every breath, trying to talk himself out of that which he would surely regret as his lips moved closer. “Unfortunately, there are greater things at stake than one’s personal preferences, Lady Nicolette.”

“Are there?” She smiled at him, which surprised him. Unexpectedly, she moved away from him, shooting disappointment through his being, and she began pacing the room. Clearly she did not wish him to be in such close proximity.