The Prince and the Player Page 6

  “Why’d you do it?” Felicity’s eyes move around my face. “I’ve watched you since you nearly won the Grand Prix seven years ago. You’re very handsome, and you’re the most controlled royal I know. I admired you.”

  The dance ends, and her hand is in the crook of my arm. We walk a few paces from the floor as I think about her question. No one’s asked it that way, and I consider it would be more accurate to ask why I let it happen. I didn’t do much of anything besides lean back and enjoy the release.

  “I was tired,” I confess. “It’s been a long six years, and I wanted…” I can’t say I wanted to feel free. That sounds pathetic. “I needed a break. It felt good to let go.”

  “It felt good to get your nut off more like,” she quips. I can’t argue, and she exhales a laugh. “It’s all right. I understand. I don’t think they understand, but I do. I forgive you.”

  “Thanks, I guess. I’m paying for it now if that gives you any satisfaction.”

  “It doesn’t, but thanks for the dance. Don’t feel pressure to pick me. I don’t care for men.” She does a little sigh. “I’m only here out of curiosity. I find you very interesting.”

  That almost makes me laugh, and I give her a wink. “Are you telling me you’re a lesbian, Felicity?”

  “Must we label each other, Playboy Prince?”

  “Hmm,” I pull back with a frown. “I see what you mean. Let’s not.”

  “Lara is very interested in you, or at least the chance at being queen.” She glances around the room. “From the looks of death I’m getting right now, I’d say she’s not alone. I wouldn’t be in your shoes for anything.”

  “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  Her slim brows pull together. “How so?”

  “You distracted me from what was shaping up to be a horrid night.”

  “Oh, it’s only just started.” She does a little bow. “Good luck, your majesty.”

  I bid my strange new friend adieu, and Mother appears to make sure I dance with Graceland next. After her follows a string of noble females, who all look alike to me. I manage to avoid being paired with Lara, who I happen to remember is as fine a dancer as she is a horsewoman.

  Still, after talking to Felicity I’m convinced dealing with her would be more than I can tolerate this particular evening. My patience has reached its limit. As a matter of fact, I’m counting down the minutes until I can leave. None of these fine ladies interests me, and they shouldn’t be the targets of my irritation. They only answered the call.

  I manage to escape to the broad patio leading off the back of the ballroom, and by some miracle, I’m alone. I spot Felicity on my way out sitting on the sidelines chatting with a woman who looks older than my grandmother. She does a little wave, and I nod as I discreetly back out through the French doors.

  Outside, in the fresh air, I take a deep breath and exhale a groan. I walk slowly across the flagstone pavement wanting to rip the bow tie off my neck and throw it over the balcony.

  The moon is high and bright and far off in the distance. The noise of the ocean whispers like a taunt, and I wonder how difficult it would be for me to climb over the rail and escape, dash down the hill to the shore below. What I wouldn’t give to be my former self before my father died, free and easy for just one day.

  Several moments pass, I stand looking out at the waves now black and tipped in silver by the moonlight. In spite of the annoyance of the evening, the night feels almost magical, like the universe shifts.

  A soft voice catches my ear, and I realize I was wrong—I’m not alone. Through my exhaustion, I recognize the words softly spoken from the other side of the small rose bush planted in the center of the patio. A female voice recites a poem I learned in school.

  * * *

  And yet with all this help of head and brain,

  How happily instinctive we remain.

  Our best guide upward farther to the light:

  Passionate preference, such as love at first sight.

  * * *

  I step around the roses, and I’m frozen on the spot. A young woman sits, leaning back on her hand, and she seems to glow in the moonlight. Her dark hair is down her back in long waves that curl gently at the ends. I want to thread my fingers through it and see if it’s as silky as it appears. Her lips are full and pink, and her skin is the color of caramel.

  Her strapless gown leaves her slim shoulders bare, and her chin is tilted up, eyes closed. All my tension falls away, and I burn with desire to take her in my arms and kiss her.

  I want to run my mouth all over her body and taste her. I want her in my enormous bed in my chamber where I can inhale her scent and have her all around me all night. It’s an insanely primitive response unlike anything I’ve ever felt, yet I have to know who she is. I have to know her better.

  “Bonsoir,” I say as gently as possible, despite my growing hunger.

  Her eyes flash open, and I’m hit with a blaze of deep emerald green. It’s like a sucker-punch to the chest.

  “I’m sorry!” She leans forward and moves her long dress aside before standing. She’s American…. And she’s trying to leave! My insides revolt. I can’t let that happen.

  “Wait!” Dashing forward, I catch her hand. It’s slim and cool in my noticeably larger one. “I was just…” I motion back toward the ballroom. “Taking a break, and I heard you. Were you reciting poetry?”

  “I love your accent.” Her chin drops, and I’m pretty sure she’s blushing. I almost can’t control the urges burning under my skin.

  “It’s so beautiful here…” She slowly pulls her hand out of mine and points over the hill. “The ocean is just there, and the roses smell so nice.”

  In that moment, I remember. “Were you reciting ‘In the Clearing’?”

  “You like Robert Frost?” Her eyes sparkle, and I only want to see that light in them forever.

  I look around, thinking. “He’s American, but his poems were easy for me to remember. They rhyme, and they feel logical. Intuitive.”

  “Yes,” She smiles and nods, as if I’ve read her mind. “That’s how I feel!”

  Again, I reach for her hand. Looking down, I notice our skin seems to match, although I can tell she’s been in the sun. Her hands are soft and elegant, and I want them on my body. I want her on my body. I want our bodies entwined, our sweat mingling in the throes of passion…

  When she pulls away, it physically hurts. “I’d better get back. I only stepped out for some air. They’ll wonder where I am.”

  I capture her hand again. “Who are they? Who are you here with?”

  Her chin drops, and she looks worried. “Oh, well, umm…” I watch as her eyes trace the flagstones searching for an answer.

  I’m hypnotized by those eyes, by her full lips. Reaching out, I touch her cheek. Moving closer, I’m ready to taste her. Her chin lifts, and her pink tongue slips out to touch her bottom lip. It’s like a match to gasoline, and I know the moment we meet, we won’t be going back.

  “There you are!” A clear voice cuts across the patio, breaking the spell. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

  I look over my shoulder to see a pretty blonde, who only appears to be a little older than the angel I’ve found. Her hair is tied back, and she’s wearing a dark silk gown. When she sees me, she stops moving, and her eyes widen.

  “Are you…?” Her voice trails off as she stares at me.

  My attention is pulled away when the one I want struggles out of my arms and rushes to her side.

  She takes the blonde woman’s hand and whispers. “I’m so sorry, Zee. I didn’t mean to…”

  I’ve had enough of all this. I’m the king, dammit. “Who are you?” I demand. “Who did you come here with?”

  “Good evening, your majesty.” The one called Zee does a little curtsey, but before I can respond, I see a face that changes my burning need to raw fury.

  The beautiful woman is momentarily forgotten along with her friend. I cross the space as the heat
rises to my eyes.

  “How dare you step foot in this place,” I say through clenched teeth. “How dare you step foot in this country!”

  Reginald Winchester stands in front of me, his cold blue eyes narrow as he evaluates my response. “Your majesty,” he says in a voice dripping with insolence.

  My late father’s suggestion of the guillotine floats through my mind. “You’ve got ten seconds to leave here before I order the guard to throw you out.”

  Reginald only sneers down his nose. We’re the same six-foot-two height, and I am not intimidated by his scowl. “You might want to hold the threats until you hear what I have to say.”

  I can barely control my anger. One of my first acts was to banish him from Monagasco along with his scheming cousin Hubert and the rest of their traitorous ring. He conspired against my father, and I hold him indirectly responsible for my father’s death. If it weren’t for this disloyal asshole, I’d still have a life. I wouldn’t be forced into the life of an inundated monarch at twenty-seven.

  I’d still have my father.

  My jaw is clenched so hard, I can barely speak. “There’s not a word you can say that will change my mind—”

  “Your mother invited me here.”

  My mother?! I can’t decide if I want to shout or throw something. My own mother went behind my back? It doesn’t make any sense. Only last week she was saying how proud she was of me for cleaning house.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Ask her yourself.” He walks fluidly to where the two young women stand.

  The blonde has positioned herself in front of my angel, and while she’s strong, I can tell they’re both afraid of what’s happening here. I can’t help wondering who they are and how they’re related to this traitor. I have to believe an explanation exists I can accept.

  My uncle fills in the blanks. “Your majesty, Rowan Westringham Tate, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Zelda Benedict and Miss Ava Wilder.” He leans closer to me, and I flinch away. “Miss Benedict is the heir to Lux Benedict of San Angelo.” He pauses as if waiting for me to understand. “Texas.”

  “How do you do,” I give them a little bow, but my anger is barely controlled below the surface. “I don’t see how this changes my direct order.”

  “If you please.” He gestures for me to walk ahead with him. I only comply out of simple curiosity.

  “Miss Benedict recently inherited a quarter of a billion in oil from her late uncle. Your mother thought it would be a nice idea if the two of you spent some time together.” He glances back over his shoulder and smiles. “In case anything happens.”

  As angry as I am with Reginald, when I glance back and see Ava, the fist of anger in my chest loosens slightly. I know Reggie’s schemes. I kicked him out for conspiring with Hubert against my father, but unlike Hubert, I know my uncle still desires independence for Monagasco. It’s in his blood. Also, lurking in the back of my mind is the notion that time spent in Miss Benedict’s presence equals time spent with Miss Wilder.

  “Where are they staying?”

  “They currently have rooms at the Fairmont.”

  Nodding, I look down and clear my throat. My mind wanders from the sea of females in the ballroom to the one I found lingering in the moonlight, drinking in the sound of the waves, just like me.

  “I’m willing to overlook your audacity this time.” When my sharp gaze meets Reginald’s gloating expression, I have to fight the urge to pop him in the mouth. “Only because I know you’re loyal to Monagasco.”

  “I live to serve my country.” He does a little bow.

  I push past him, returning to where the blonde Miss Benedict stands with her friend Miss Wilder. Our close proximity stirs the desire only momentarily cooled in my chest, and I have to force my eyes away from the lovely brunette.

  “Miss Benedict, forgive my rudeness. I’m delighted to welcome you.”

  Ava steps away, taking my insides with her, but her friend smiles and nods her head as she bows. “It’s an honor, your royal highness.”

  My eyes have followed Ava when I realize what Zelda just said. “Call me Rowan, please.”

  She straightens, and her blue eyes meet mine. “Then you must call me Zee.”

  Her voice commands my attention. She’s smart. I like that. Although her friend has stolen my fascination, getting to know Zee Wilder might be interesting. I’ll see what Reggie has in mind for this partnership and if there’s any way I can help the country while pursuing what I really want.

  Two Princes

  Zelda

  Sometimes I wonder if Ava and I are truly related. Stepping out of the sleek black Mercedes into the blinding strobe of camera flashes at the entrance to the Royal Sports Club, I feel like a fish who just leaped out of her bowl.

  I can barely breathe. I can’t see a thing, thanks to the paparazzi. The bustier bodice on my black tulle and satin formal gown is pinching me in half. I know I’ll walk like I’m in a body brace through the crowd of nobility—that is, if I can stay upright on my too-tall stilettoes.

  My sister, by contrast, sweeps out of the Town Car in her flowing dusty-rose gown as if she were born in this scene. I swear, she seems to move in sparkling slow motion, and as she turns to smile at me over her shoulder, her dark hair swirls around her arms in a shiny curtain. A ripple of whispers passes through the crowd as everyone tries to figure out who we are.

  Reggie is right behind us, nearly bumping into me as I lean down to adjust my heel.

  “Watch it!” I have to grab his arm to keep from falling.

  His smile is plastered, and he looks straight ahead. “Hold steady. Every single one of those flashes is a photograph. You don’t want to look like a shrew on tomorrow’s gossip sites—or constipated.”

  Freezing a smile on my face, I lower my leg, push back my shoulders and make my way as quickly as possible to the entrance. The sooner we’re off this freakin red carpet, the better.

  “What happened to Miami?” Reginald huffs once we’re safely in the building and out of the strobe lights. “You waltzed through that casino like a supermodel on a catwalk.”

  “I was wearing a romper and platforms. You’ve got me in a corset and stripper heels.” I gasp, straightening a pinch of skin near my ribcage. “I’m starving, and this damned dress is too tight.”

  “You’re wearing Gaultier and Louboutin. The finest designers in France.”

  “I look like a demented ballerina… or a dominatrix who got off at the wrong stop.”

  “Look at me.” His tone is stern, and he stops short.

  I look up at his face, and over his shoulder, I notice Ava is ahead of us peeking into the ballroom where a rainbow of lights flashes and music plays loudly.

  “Eyes,” he orders, and mine snap to his. “You actually look quite lovely tonight. You’re every bit Miss Zelda Benedict, the richest woman in Texas.” His expression softens, and the unexpected warmth makes my insides squirm. I start to move away but large hands grasp the tops of my bare shoulders. “You’ve got this.”

  My lips twist, and for a moment I feel obstinate. “I want to be at the beach.”

  He laughs gently. “Tomorrow you can spend the day at the beach. You only have to be noticed tonight. In a positive way.”

  Nodding, I slide my hand into the crook of his arm, and we start for the ballroom. Holding his arm helps me balance as I walk, and once we reach the large space filled with men and women in formal attire, I start to relax. The venue is very crowded, and it’s more like a nightclub than something out of the eighteenth century, which is what I expected when he said royal ball.

  Purple and red lights shine from the ceiling to the floor in large spots, and a DJ is in the back corner spinning smooth techno. Looking around, I can’t spot Ava, which makes me nervous. I’m not sure how proficient she is with our story.

  We opted with her being my friend instead of my sister. It was my idea, as I figured it would be easier for her to make a quick escape if we were caught.

>   Reggie and I take a slow pace around the perimeter, until we’re taken up short.

  An elegant older woman snaps at my escort. “How dare you show your face here tonight?” I have no idea who she is, but she’s someone powerful enough to chastise Reggie.

  “Forgive me, your grace.” Reggie bows, and for the first time, I see him genuinely meek.

  “Rowan will be furious! You’ll ruin all my plans.” Her eyes flash, and I take a subtle half step behind him, hoping in my black dress I blend into the rave atmosphere.

  “Not if I come bearing gifts,” he says, motioning to me. “Would introducing him to the heiress to the Benedict oil fortune appease my nephew’s wrath?”

  I actually feel the moment her ice blue eyes spot me. “Come here, girl,” she barks the order, and I dutifully step forward on my needle-thin heels.

  “Zelda, may I present the Queen of Monagasco,” Reggie says.

  The words make my pulse jump. Holding the side of my dress, I do a careful curtsey, bowing my head. “Your majesty.”

  “You’re Zelda Benedict? Daughter of the Texas oil tycoon?”

  “Niece, actually, ma’am.” My head is still bowed, both because I don’t want to risk her reading my expression and because I’m not sure when it’s okay to rise.

  “That’s enough, you may rise.”

  Straightening, I see she’s stepped closer to me. Our eyes are about the same height, which means she’s taller than me. She also bears a striking resemblance to Reggie…

  “You’re here to meet my son, is that so?”

  “I’m sorry, your majesty, I’m here as a guest of Sir Winchester. My… friend and I met him in Texas, and he has been gracious enough to escort us to your beautiful country on a holiday visit—”

  “Yes, yes,” she waves a hand between us as if she’s heard enough. “That will do. You might as well get in line with the rest of them. The crown prince has danced with almost every girl here tonight, and I haven’t seen a spark of interest in any of them.” She shakes her head and turns. “Unless you count that first dance with Fredrick’s niece. Of course, he chooses a lesbian to have chemistry with.”