by Nina Milne
These were all the things he wanted to say, but didn’t quite know how. So instead he did what he had promised himself he wouldn’t do and he kissed her—right there in the middle of the rainforest, with the smell of the monsoon in the air, and the pounding of the waterfall in the distance. He kissed her as if his life and soul depended on it.
Her resistance was brief—a nanosecond of surprise—and then, as if she too were tired of words, of this walk down a memory lane that was lined with sadness, her resistance melted away and her lips parted beneath his.
He tasted the sweet chili tang left by the sandwiches and heard her soft moan. Their surroundings receded. The call of a hornbill, the rustle of the monkeys in the trees above all melted away and left only them, encased in a net of yearning and need and desire.
He pulled her closer, oblivious of the rustle of the blanket, the unwieldiness of the branch they sat on. Nothing mattered but this—losing themselves in this moment of sheer bliss as he deepened the kiss, as her hands slipped under his T-shirt so her fingers covered the accelerated beat of his heart.
Who knew what would have happened if a monkey in the tree above hadn’t decided to take advantage and scamper down in an audacious bid for the rucksack. It’s insistent chatter and the swipe of an overhanging branch brought Frederick back to reality.
A shout from him, a darting movement from Sunita, and the monkey jumped to safety and jabbered at them in indignation.
They met each other’s eyes, hers still clouded with desire, and he managed a smile. ‘Well saved.’
Then there were no words. They both simply stood there, and he reached out and took her hands in his.
‘What now?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘Yes, I do. Let’s walk. And eat and talk. But let’s not talk about unhappy things.’
‘That sounds good. Only happy topics—all the way back.’ He held her gaze. ‘And what happens then?’
She stepped forward, stood on tiptoe, and dropped the lightest of kisses on his lips. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I really don’t.’
For a moment neither did he. Oh, he knew what he should do—he should lock this down now. This physical attraction was too intense, too emotional, and he didn’t want intensity or emotion to enter their relationship. This marriage was an alliance and he wanted it to last. Succumbing to physical allure, allowing it too much importance, would jeopardise that.
But today he was just Frederick, not the Playboy Prince or the ruler of a principality who had vowed to fulfil his brother’s vision. Today they were Frederick and Sunita.
And so he stepped forward and smiled—a smile that was shamelessly predatory and full of promise. ‘Then it’s lucky that I know exactly what to do.’
‘What...?’ Her voice was even softer than before, her brown eyes wide.
‘We’re going to walk to the nearest station and catch a goods train, and then take a taxi back to the villa. Then we’re going to resume where we’ve just left off and this time we are not going to stop.’ He paused. ‘How does that sound?’
He realised he was holding his breath as she tipped her head to one side, and then she smiled a smile that lit her face and ignited a warmth that spread across his chest.
‘That sounds perfect. I just hope the goods train is fast.’
Frederick shook his head. ‘Anticipation is half the fun.’ He held out his hand. ‘Let’s go.’
* * *
‘Anticipation is half the fun.’
Sunita wasn’t so sure of that. As they walked alongside the train tracks anticipation streamed through her veins, causing her tummy to cartwheel and her pulse-rate to soar. Was that fun?
It was hard to tell—her whole body felt tight with need, a yearning that it would now be impossible to quell, and truth to tell she didn’t want to. She glanced down at their clasped hands, at the strength of his profile, the jut of his jaw, the lithe assurance he walked with, the whole time aware of his own scrutiny, the desire that warmed his hazel eyes when they rested on her.
They talked—of course they did. Of films and books and politics...of cabbages and kings...but the words seemed to be filtered through a haze of awareness that glistened in the air alongside the sunlit drops of rain that sparkled from the lush leaves.
Their ascent onto a goods train seemed almost surreal as they travelled amidst the bulky cargo, and she gazed out over the variegated greens of paddy fields, the swoop of the Goan valleys, the shimmering grey of the sky, where clouds swelled and perfumed the air with the promise of rain. All the while, even as her senses stored away Nature’s munificent beauty, they also revelled in Frederick’s proximity, in the knowledge that soon—soon—they would be together, that for a time at least he would be hers.
Careful!
She must not let this get out of perspective, make it into any more than it was. This was a benefit of their marriage deal—a benefit that could be taken or left at will. This was physical—no more no less—and the only reason she was so on edge was because she hadn’t felt like this for two years. Not since that night when all her principles had been abandoned and she’d tumbled into bed with him.
‘Hey.’
She turned to see his hazel eyes rest on her face.
‘You OK? We don’t have to do this, you know? We have a lifetime ahead of us...’
But not like this—not as Frederick and Sunita. Today meant something different—she couldn’t explain how she knew it, but she knew with soul-wrenching certainty that this was the case.
‘I know, but I want this now, today...’ She grinned suddenly. ‘There is only so much anticipation a girl can take.’
His answering grin removed all doubts; it was a smile she remembered from two years ago, boyish, happy, and she hadn’t seen it once in the past few days.
‘It’ll be worth it. I promise.’
And as the train slowed to a stop she had no doubt that this was a promise she could rely on.
Twenty minutes later they arrived back at the villa and alighted from the taxi. She glanced around almost furtively, not wanting to meet Deepali or Ashok or anyone. Hand in hand, they practically tiptoed through the garden... And if Deepali did spot them she remained discreetly hidden and they reached Sunita’s bedroom safely.
Once inside, she moved to the window and pulled the blackout shutters closed, then turned and moved towards Frederick with an urgency more than matched by his own as he strode forward and pulled her so she was flush against the hard promise of his body.
‘The anticipation was great,’ she murmured. ‘But now it’s got old.’
His laugh held a breathless quality. ‘Tell me about it!’
And with that he tumbled her back onto the bed, and after that all coherent thought evaporated as sensation took over. The feel of his lips on hers, his taste, his touch against her sensitised skin—all caused her to moan in unabashed joy. His skin under her fingers, his shudder of pleasure, his voice whispering her name, the shucking of clothes, the urgency and the exquisite gentleness, the awe and the laughter and desire such as she had never known, all created a waving, pulsing sense that carried them higher and higher...
* * *
Hours later she opened her eyes, realising that she was being gently shaken awake, a hand on her shoulder. His hand. She blinked sleepily, and then sat up as the glorious dream dissipated. Frederick stood back from the bed—fully clothed, she noted with a fuzzy disappointment.
‘Hey...’ she said.
‘Hey. Everyone’s back—we need to show our faces before they wonder where we are.’
Sunita blinked, tried to compute why it mattered—they were engaged. Surely he wasn’t embarrassed. Properly awake now, she propped herself up on one elbow as a sudden awkwardness descended. ‘You should have woken me earlier.’
‘I thought I’d let you sleep.’ Now a small smile quirked into place. ‘We expended a lot of energy.’
‘So we did.’ For a moment relief touched her—maybe she’d imagined the awkwardness.
‘But now the day is over and we aren’t “just” Sunita and Frederick any more. We are the Prince and his Princess-to-be and we can’t repeat this.’
‘This?’ she echoed, as a spark of anger ignited by hurt flared. ‘Define “this”.’
His gaze remained steady. ‘We can’t sleep together again before the wedding. This engagement needs to be seen as completely different from my father’s marriages—I don’t want the people to believe it is based on physical attraction alone, that their ruler has been influenced by anything other than the good of Lycander.’
‘Of course.’
It made perfect sense, she could see that. Of course she could. She could measure every publicity angle with unerring accuracy. This marriage would not play well with Lycander—she herself had pointed that out. So she understood that they needed to downplay their physical attraction and focus on the real reason for their marriage—Amil.
Yet his words felt like a personal rejection, as though beneath his common-sense approach lay reserve, a withdrawal.
The knowledge...the certainty that he regretted the day and its outcome, that he regretted ‘this’, bolstered her pride, gave her voice a cool assurance. ‘I understand.’
After all, he’d made it clear enough. Their physical attraction was a side benefit, a bonus to their marriage alliance, and she would not make the mistake of reading any more into it than that.
‘I need to get dressed. Shall I meet you in the gardens?’
For a moment he hesitated, and then nodded and headed for the door. Once he was gone Sunita closed her eyes, annoyed to feel the imminent well of tears. Two years before she’d allowed physical attraction to override common sense, and now it seemed she might have done it again. But no more.
She swung herself out of bed in a brisk movement and headed across the room. Pulling open her wardrobe, she surveyed the contents and settled on a black cold-shoulder crop top over floral silk trousers. A quick shower, a bit of make-up and she was good to go.
Once in the gardens, she spotted Frederick in conversation with Eric, saw the hand-over of a package that Frederick dropped into his pocket before he saw her and walked over.
‘Shall we have a quick walk before dinner?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’
They walked into the sylvan glade, skirting the lily pond, where two brilliant turquoise kingfishers dived, their white ‘shirtfront’ breasts bright in the dusk.
‘I wanted to give you this,’ he said, and he reached into his pocket and took out the package, undoing it with deft fingers and handing her the jeweller’s box inside. ‘We can’t announce the engagement without a ring.’
She flipped the lid open and gazed inside. The ring had presence; it glinted up at her, a cold, hard, solid diamond. A discreetly obvious ring that knew its own worth—its multi-faceted edges placed it in the upper echelon of the diamond class. A regal ring—perhaps he hoped it would confer a royal presence on her.
Hell, it was the very Kaitlin of rings.
‘Did you choose it?’
For a scant instant discomfort showed, but then it was gone. ‘No. Kirsten did.’
The woman who chose his clothes. Of course—who better to choose the correct ring for Lycander’s bride?
‘I asked her to get it done last night. Is there a problem with it?’
‘Of course not.’
In an abrupt movement she pulled the ring out and slid it over her finger, where it sat and looked up at her, each glint one of disdain. The ring wasn’t fooled—it knew this was not a worthy hand to rest upon.
Sunita glared down at it as she executed an almost painful mental eye-roll. Note to self: the ring does not possess a personality. Second note: of course I am worthy.
She summoned a smile. ‘Guess we’re all set to go.’ Even if she couldn’t have felt less ready.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lycander
THE CAR WOUND up the mountain road. Sunita stifled a gasp and Frederick felt a sudden surge of pride as he saw her reaction to Lycander’s castle.
‘Holy-moly,’ she said. ‘It’s straight out of a fairy tale. Any minute now Snow White will wave at me from a turret or I’ll see Rapunzel climb down a tower.’
Something tugged at his heart as he looked at her—something he couldn’t identify and didn’t particularly want to. Focus on facts...that was the way to go.
‘Believe it or not, this castle has been around for centuries. It started out long ago as a wooden fortress and over the years it has been renovated, added to, and here we have it.’
‘It’s hard to believe I’m going to live there.’
Equally hard to ascertain her opinion on the fact, he thought.
Sunita subsided into silence as they approached the castle and parked in an impressive paved courtyard, complete with fountains, stone lions and an immense marble sundial.
‘I’ll give you a proper tour later. For now, if it’s all right with you, I’ll show you to your rooms—I’ve asked Giselle Diaz, the housekeeper, to get a set of apartments ready. After the wedding we will move into the state apartments. I’ll show you those later—I think you may want to redecorate them.’
Slow down. No need to turn into a tour guide. Come to that, he couldn’t help but wonder at the dearth of staff there to greet them. Foreboding touched him—perhaps the no-show was connected to the emergency council meeting he was scheduled to attend right now. Convened to ‘discuss’—for that read ‘object to’—his marriage.
They reached the apartment suite that would be Sunita and Amil’s until the wedding and he scanned it quickly. Clean and polished...welcoming flowers in place. On the surface it all looked fine, but he knew it lacked the extra touches that had abounded the one time Lady Kaitlin had stayed as a Lycander guest. Back then Giselle had been there to greet them, the flowers had been more lavish, the toiletries a tad more luxurious.
Hmm...
‘I’ll leave you to settle in and I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘Why don’t I come with you? My guess is that your council will want to talk to you about our marriage—let’s face them together.’
Frederick shook his head. ‘I’d rather do it alone. I brokered this marriage—it is my responsibility to explain it to my people.’
A flash of hurt showed in her eyes and then she shrugged. ‘As you wish.’
He pushed down the urge to assuage the hurt; this was his business and he would deal with it alone.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later he looked around the council chamber, which was informally referred to as the tapestry room, due to the needlepoint that lined nearly every centimetre of the walls. The lifework of a princess centuries before, who had toiled whilst her husband had dallied with a string of mistresses.
Each section illustrated a different theme, dominated by war and religion with plenty of fire and brimstone and gore... Presumably it was meant to be an apt backdrop for the discussion of council matters.
‘Order!’ called one of the council members.
Frederick looked around the table—at Marcus’s assessing expression, at the rest of the council’s combative stance. ‘You requested we meet as soon as I arrived to discuss your concerns. Please enlighten me.’
A middle-aged man rose to his feet. ‘This proposed marriage, Your Highness...we do not believe it is a good move.’
‘Marcus has kept me apprised of your concerns.’ He kept his voice even. ‘But this marriage is happening.’
‘But the people will not like it,’ interpolated another council member.
‘Sunita is an ex
cellent publicist—I believe she will win them over.’
‘How? She is a woman you barely know—a model, the mother of a baby she kept from you—but now that you are on the throne she seems happy to marry you.’
‘Shades of your mother...’
‘Who said that?’ Frederick demanded.
‘I said it.’ The voice came from one of the elder statesmen.
‘My relationship with Sunita bears no resemblance to that of my parents.’
‘I beg to differ, Your Highness. I was there. Prince Alphonse fell hook, line and sinker for your mother—chased her whilst his wife, the mother of Crown Prince Axel, was dying. Their wedding was an extravaganza pushed forward because the bride was pregnant. Within months of your birth the marriage was floundering; within a few years it had ended in scandal. Your mother played him for a fool.’
White-hot anger roiled inside him. Yet the words were true—a fact he had to face.
‘Are you saying that I am a fool? What would have happened if you had spoken to my father thus?’
Frederick made a gesture to a guard, who stepped forward without hesitation to a murmur of surprise.
‘You would have been marched out and the council would have been shut down until after the wedding.’
He gestured for the guard to stop and rose to his feet.
‘But I do not rule as my father did—I have listened to all your concerns and I understand them. Now I tell you this. My marriage to Sunita is to be made in good faith on both our parts. There will be no scandal. There will be no custody battle. This union will endure. This wedding is happening.’
What was he? The Delphi Oracle? But now was no time to exhibit doubt. ‘I promise you all that I value your opinion. But you see, ladies and gentlemen, Amil is my son, and if I have a chance to be a father without taking my son from his mother then I have to take it. So the wedding will happen and I very much hope to see you all dance at it.’