Skye rested back on the pillows of her medical bed, still unable to believe where she was. Ruthie, the senior medic in charge of her care, had informed her last night that she was in Queen’s Palace, in the Palace Infirmary. She had almost lost her life, receiving the brunt of Stra Akka’s collar, and the prince had saved her, getting her to them in time. The prince had saved her life—but had deceived her soul.
He hadn’t returned to her again but had left a message with Ruthie, vowing that he would. She didn’t want to see him; it was too painful. Just as soon as she could regain her strength and get out of this bed, she would leave him, going off to who knows where. Anywhere ...
She remembered what her father had said to her in the throes of her coma—that she wasn’t alone, that the man in her dreams was with her. But she'd had many strange dreams when she was in that altered state, and that’s what they were—simply dreams. Her reality was that she was alone, for her pride just wouldn’t allow her to be with a depraved rake.
Skye smiled wryly, thinking about how she'd had a fondness for Prince Nicholas when hearing about him in the transmissions on her computer. His public relations people couldn’t allow his true self to be out for the entire world to see, as then he would have no respect. They made him out to be a noble and honest hero, an untouchable fantasy. It was odd how she—a simple commoner—knew his true nature, the facts about one of the most powerful men in Urania. She knew him intimately, and while that was an incredible joy, their unions had best be only a memory. She didn’t want a lifetime of heartache ahead.
She choked back a sob, recalling the magic of his touch, and commanded herself to think about other things ...
There were rumors that Prince Nicholas was given to wildness, to outrageous but often humorous appearances at important affairs—but that was all part of his charm. He was a very dynamic person, and his presence would upstage anyone within a room. He was in training to be an elite FAS pilot—which explained his ease of handling his ship in his dramatic landing on Myrrh. He was also very intelligent—almost studious, in fact—mapping out complicated star charts for the science explorers, which must be what he had meant when he had told her that ‘the prince’ was a bit of a bore. He had such a twisted way of telling his lies—half truths, and yet no truth ...
A servant entered the room, carrying a computer tablet that she set down on the bedside table. Skye was glad for the distraction.
“Hello,” the white-haired, matronly woman greeted. “I am Marion, assistant to the queen. She will be here shortly to speak with you.”
Skye was surprised. “The queen—speak to me?”
Marion nodded. “Don’t be afraid. She wants to speak with you on a matter about her son.”
Skye’s heart began to thump rapidly in her nervousness while she awaited the queen’s presence. The sovereign was Nick’s mother! How strange it was for her to be here ...
Skye gasped when Her Majesty strode into the room. She had seen her great beauty before in the transmissions, but to see her in person was an almost frightening experience. She had an aura about her, a sensuality that Skye couldn’t even fathom. Her eyes were of the deepest blue—and her hair long and golden—making her look much younger than her forty-three years. Her cheeks were high and pink, and her lips soft and full. She was tall and slender, and she wore a simple sky-blue dress—without frills—displaying her reputation of how she enjoyed the common life. Howbeit, her inborn grace bespoke of her regality, that she was a unique, supreme spirit—a most worshiped queen.
“Hello, Skye,” the monarch greeted, taking her cold hand into the warmth of hers. “I am very pleased to finally meet you. I hope you are feeling better today?”
Skye nodded mutely, unable to speak.
Her Majesty released her hand and sat down in the chair at the bedside. Her smile was very warm and kind.
“My son has told me a lot about you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that.”
Skye found her voice. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“We will stop the Trobins,” she promised. “But it is taking some time. It is a very delicate matter.”
She nodded, finding no words.
Her Majesty rose, and moved slowly and aimlessly around the room.
“Nicholas has told me that you are in a rather dire circumstance, that your accounts are locked because of the investigation surrounding your father’s death?”
Skye tried to remember the commonplace knowledge of the etiquette when dealing with the royals. “Yes, Ma’am,” she replied.
“We have a place for you here, until you can straighten out those matters.”
Skye sincerely appreciated the generous offer, but couldn’t honestly accept. “Thank you, Ma’am. But, I don’t know ...”
Her Majesty smiled down on her with a mischievous gleam in her beautiful eyes. “You know, Skye,” she said. “There is something that we women are born to know about men of Nicholas’ age—or of any age, for that matter. They don’t always think with their head.”
A smile came to Skye’s lips, for she knew about that fact, also.
“Nicholas has ... a few problems,” his mother explained. “He is always under a lot of pressure—I’m sure you can understand. He does things sometimes that can drive a person stark raving mad, but he really is a good boy.”
Spoken like a true mother would ...
“You know, he never left your side when you were ill,” she informed quietly. “He cares a great deal about you. And that’s a feat that no other woman has been able to do.”
Skye felt the blush coming to her cheeks, unknowing how to respond.
The queen’s consort suddenly came into the room. He was looking for his wife, and he had found her. Skye’s breath caught, seeing his tall and distinguished frame. He was a very handsome man, with brilliant green eyes and regal features, his visage striking. He had a few lines of wisdom on his cheeks and a touch of snow in his blond shoulder-length locks, but he was a strong and virile man, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. All the subjects knew that he was a few years from his sixth decade, but thought that he seemed to be a man of twenty years younger. He was clothed smartly—entirely in black—a hue that suited him well. Seeing him in person, Skye could feel the vitality of his presence and understood whence his son received his charismatic charms.
The senior Nicholas came near her, reaching out his large hand.
“Hello, Skye,” he said amiably, taking her hand into a firm grip. “Feeling better?”
She nodded, and he released her hand.
“Good!” he said. “Excuse us, a moment,” he muttered.
He placed his hand on his wife’s hip and guided her over to the door, to speak with her privately. The queen’s dark-blue eyes lit up with an impish glow while he whispered in her ear, and he gave her a quick kiss on her lips and exited out the doorway.
Her Majesty turned and smiled warmly. “I’ll tell you what, Skye,” she said, as if making up her mind. “We’ll set up a suite for you, and you can stay as long as you want. I’ll have a new wardrobe made for you. Marion, give her the selections.”
Marion moved to give her the computer tablet from which her choices of a wardrobe could be made.
Skye felt the need to protest. “No, thank you, Ma’am. I will have funds of my own soon.”
Marion bent down to whisper in her ear. “Do not refuse the queen. She wants to give you a gift.”
Skye’s blush grew deeper. Already she had made a faux pas. “You’re very gracious, Your Majesty. Thank you.”
The queen waved off her apology with her hand. “It’s the least I can do for you, after all that you’ve been through. So, it’s settled, then. I’ll have them ready your rooms.”
Skye nodded, overwhelmed, feeling like she had no other choice. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
“Please, Skye, I want you to call me ‘Sarra’.”
Skye nodded, hesitatingly. “Thank you, Sarra.”
Ple
ased, the woman nodded and left from the room.
Sarra smiled to herself, thinking that it had gone rather well; she had some good news to tell her son. Finally, he had found someone that he could respect, and whom she could respect. Her stubborn boy was about to learn a necessary lesson about women. There was a true romance budding here ...
She quickened her steps, off to the Hanging Gardens to meet Raine for a pleasurable rendezvous ...
Skye continued to be overwhelmed long after the imposing royals left her. Marion helped her with her selections, insisting that she not think of the cost—the more lavish, the better. Skye didn’t really care what she wore, absently agreeing with the friendly woman about the dresses, concerned about the new situation that she had found herself in. She would stay here, so near to Nick ... How could she escape him, now?
The following day, in the late afternoon, Ruthie pronounced Skye healthy and fit for living her life, again. Marion escorted her to her suite in a far wing of the palace, and when nearing her door, Skye flinched when seeing who waited for her.
There stood Nicholas, smiling at her with those impish blue-green eyes.
“Well, there you are!” he greeted. “Nice to see you well.” He pointed at the next door further down the hall. “Looks like we’re neighbors. Imagine that.”
His eyes took on a different meaning, a ‘come hither’ look that she knew all too well. They had a fair share of anger in them, as well. As he spoke, she heard it in his voice.
“If you want to come and see me, you know where I am. Until later?”
He gave her a knowing smile over his shoulder while he sauntered down the hall, and with a wink, he disappeared beyond his door.
Marion shook her head in wonder. “That boy!” she murmured.
Skye had paled. She followed the woman into the suite, wondering how she would survive this ...
Nicholas was back to playing his games with her, again.
Chapter 14
Skye kept to her rooms, refusing to be drawn into defeat. The suite was lavish and spacious, having a large bedchamber and bath, and a fashionable drawing room done in scarlet and sapphire, giving her a pleasant place to hide. She knew that Nicholas waited for her, so near down the hall, and she could feel his presence—the waves of his magnetism—beckoning her to come. She gritted her teeth and held her ground; she wouldn’t be his fool again. She changed into the pink satin nightgown that had been laid out for her, and spent the night in the wide and comfortable bed, tossing and turning in her distress—but she felt like she had slept for forever anyway. She dozed a bit when the dawn came, and when she woke she was disappointed to find herself alone. She really didn’t like waking up alone ...
Marion came to check in on her, bringing her a breakfast plate and some clothes for her to wear for a few days until her wardrobe arrived. She also had a personal comm, which she offered to her.
“Nicholas wanted me to give you this,” she said. “It has a direct line for you to contact him, day or night.”
Skye took the comm and coolly set it aside on the bureau, having no use for it.
She donned a dress, a velvety, long-sleeved creation that almost matched the color of her red-gold hair, the hue accenting the unusual shade of her violet-blue eyes, making them appear even larger.
The woman approached her, gazing upon her reflection in the bath’s long mirror. “You sure are a pretty one,” she praised. “I can see why Nicholas is so smitten.”
Skye saw the blush coming onto her cheeks and turned away. “I’m sure he’s smitten with many women,” she said.
“Well,” Marion considered. “The women do like him, and he likes them. It’s always been that way, even when he was a boy—the girls flocked to him. With his good looks and his title, he really hasn’t been denied anything from them. I think it’s made him spoiled.”
“Rotten, is more like it,” Skye murmured.
Marion considered her. “Why don’t you like him, Skye?”
She shrugged. “I know him too well.”
The woman clucked her tongue and wagged her head, leaving from the suite.
Skye paced about restlessly, fidgeting her hands. She wondered what she should do—if she should leave right now, or stay. But, where was she to go?
With a need for fresh air, she moved out onto the balcony, into the moody, cloudy day. The white walkway ran a good length of this realm of the palace, having many doors. She placed her hands on the railing, leaning against the black billets, watching the sea rolling below, the white-capped waves crashing upon the craggy shore.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a door open. Her breath caught and she braced herself while Nicholas strode near. She wanted to flee back into her room like a coward, but she forced herself to be brave, and stayed strong.
He drew up alongside her, leaning his arm on the railing. She didn’t look at him, not daring a glance.
“Beautiful day, huh,” he said lazily, over the rush of the sea.
“If you like clouds,” she murmured.
She felt his scrutiny of her profile, and he stared a good, long while. She began trembling from his nearness and commanded her hands to stop shaking—to which they wouldn’t obey.
“Skye,” he said huskily. “How long do you think that you can play this game?”
She chose her words carefully. “I thank you for your hospitality, Your Royal Highness, but I will be leaving as soon as I can,” she informed stiffly.
He cursed. “You’re not going to give me a chance.”
It was a statement, not a question. She refused to acknowledge him anymore.
He scowled, violently. “Whatever you want, woman,” he said tightly. “Your loss.”
He stormed away, slamming his door behind him.
Skye felt her tears coming, but she told herself that it really was for the best ...
Nicholas kept his temper in tight reign. God, but she was an infuriating woman—to hell with her!
He sent out word on his new personal comm, and it would shoot like lightning through the grapevine ...
‘There’s a party. Be at ‘the dive’. Tonight.’
He nodded his head, vengefully.
There were plenty of other fish in that there sea ...
***
Nicholas started the party early, pouring himself a good, long drink. He gave his orders to his trusted servants who were preparing this soiree with the food and drink. He readied ‘his friend’s’ estate—he was being a friend to himself today by leaving Skye’s impossible demeanor. He was more than due for a rip-roaring good time, and soon they would come in droves.
Akins was the first to arrive. He was puzzled that his host was alone.
“What—that girl that you were telling me about—Skye—she’s not here?”
“No,” Nicholas grumbled. “And I sure as hell don’t want to talk about her.”
The Arab smiled. “Trouble in paradise?”
“There is no paradise,” he replied firmly, making it clear that the topic was closed.
The guests began arriving, bursting through the doorways, and soon their laughter and boisterousness filled the halls. Drink flowed and the music blared, the thunderous lows of the instrumental Tier Cascade compositions vibrating the floor and walls, echoing out over the sea. The throng spilled out onto the beach, into the courtyard and the gaming hall, in espirt de corps of wild song and mayhem. Most knew the sport of Prince Nicholas’ bashes, and the innocent ones who were unaccustomed felt the honor to be here. They were the children of the aristocracy and the like—wealthy, bored, esteemed. Excitement hung in the air as everyone anticipated the night to come—the unbridled sex, the mind-altering substances, and the roaring music. No one could host an event like His Royal Highness, where one wouldn’t want for a thing. Soon the affair was a few hundred strong, a place of rowdy entertainment, of freedom ...
Nicholas roamed his estate with his glass in hand, scanning the crowds, searching for the woman he would have for the night.
They were mostly the same old faces, acquaintances and friends who greeted him with a touch on his shoulder, a hug—a shout. He smiled on his entourage, giving them his care and attention while he roamed, and he successfully maneuvered around the aggressive women he did not want, being a master in his experience at graceful declines.
The voices grew louder as the day progressed, yet still he searched, having no true interest in these women, many of whom he'd had before. He had a rather selective taste in females, having known all kinds and preferring the true ones, without all the talk and phony flirtations. Out in the courtyard by the pool he saw Audrey, and he felt a rush of rage. If not for her, he would still be with his Skye. Well, she wasn’t his Skye, anymore ...
He hoped to avoid her, too tempted about what he might do to her and cause a scene, but she saw him and shouted, and hurried near. Her sky-blue eyes were lit with an excited light beneath her crown of golden hair, and she wore a sleazy red dress that stated her wanton intentions.
“There you are!” she cried, trying to give him a hug, to which he had no response. She drew away and smiled, her eyes taking in the sight of him.
Suddenly, she pouted. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“Nothing that concerns you,” he replied tightly.
“You’re mad at me, I see,” she said huskily. “Why don’t we find a room, and I’ll see that you’re mad from pleasure ...”
He recoiled in disgust. “Go play with someone else, Audrey.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that.”
“I sure do,” he quipped, and pushed off her advances, leaving her behind. He glanced askance and saw that she was already giving her attention to a tall, dark-haired sot who she obviously knew very well.
He scowled, his mood of levity broken. She had reminded him about what he had done to his Skye ...
But, she wasn’t his Skye, anymore. She never would forgive him.
He went to the bar in the back foyer and the crowd reverently parted to let him through. Angrily, he fixed himself another whisky cocktail—a stronger one this time—but as he took a swallow, he discovered that he wasn’t quite in the mood for all of that, his insides being twisted. Howbeit, he lifted his glass dramatically into the air and then downed the fiery contents anyway, receiving a round of applause and hoots, to which he fell down into a sweeping bow. He fixed himself another, and then went off to roam again.
The Princess of the Wild Page 15