She remembered a song that her father had written for her mother, and found that it fit her troubled mood. She slowly worked the frets, sending out the clear, poignant melody, and softly began to sing the verse:
“Remember the sunrise
Though you’ve been taken
And ride the stars above
Remember the sunset
Though I can’t touch you
And give to you my love
Remember the moonlight
When I would hold you
And we’d roam the endless sands
Remember the star shine
When I would know you—
Remember the feel of my hand
Who really knows where the spirit goes
When the walk has reached the end
I can’t find you—I’m always behind you—
Your song is in the wind
Remember the summer
The heat of the brightness
And all the world was new
Remember the winter
The cold of the darkness
Our hope that helped us through
Remember the laughter
The warmth of our haven
While our children would play
Remember the sorrow
—Our dreams of tomorrow—
All were taken that day
Who really knows where the spirit goes
When the walk has reached the end
I can’t find you—I’m always behind you—”
Skye’s voice broke and her tears flowed, in an emotion she didn’t even know was there. She tossed the guitar aside and took her face into her palms, surrendering to her misery.
“Nicholas!” she choked.
A violent pop in the fire brought her head up and she saw the light of the flames. A form was there on the other side ... a black boot ... a long, manly leg ... Her gaze shot up to the face, and seeing him through the flickering haze, she thought that she was having an odd sort of dream. Nicholas stood there, his handsome face somber, his blue-green eyes shadowed but sparkling, as if with tears.
Nicholas!
Her first instinct was to run and she acted on it. She sprang up from her chair, toppling it over, and she fled blindly through the darkness, desperate to escape.
“Skye!” he called hoarsely. “Stop! Stop running!”
He was in hot pursuit, and when he caught her, he took her into a gentle roll down onto the ground. He ended up atop her on the grassy bank by the pond, and she cried out, struggling against him. He took her cheeks into his hands, keeping her in a firm hold. She went limp, wide-eyed as she stared up at his unmasked devotion.
“Skye, stop it,” he pleaded softly. “Stop running from me.”
His lips slowly came down to hers and he kissed her, scattering any resistance that was left within her. His hungry tongue devoured her, forcing her to respond to his demands, and she wrapped her arms across his strong back, giving to him her equal abandon. She had resolved that she would never know this again—this perfect tempest—but she didn’t care how he had found her, or why. Her numb senses sprang to life, overpowering her with his masculinity, his warm spirit that was truly here above her. Their heartfelt absence sharpened the longing, their substances chastising them for their denial, and he drew away, tortured.
“Skye,” he groaned huskily.
In a burst of frustration, he undid her leggings and pulled them down off her, down passed her toes, and he did the same to his own, shedding his boots and kicking them aside. He came down to her again and yanked up her shirt, baring her breasts, and then raised his shirt, desperate to have her softness against him. He wasted no time in unleashing his repressed desire and he found her, impelling himself within. His breath caught and she whimpered softly at the impact, and he moved, forcefully, releasing the heat of her passion with every steady thrust. His breast caressed hers, sending the flames into her loins, and she rolled her head haltingly back and forth across the cradle of his arms ... clawing at his soft shirt and tangling her hands in his silken hair. Her long days of unwillingly fantasizing about this heightened her want, and she needed him now, no longer able to deny her body or her spirit the magic ... He was in the same fate, maddened by his vulnerability to her, her uncanny power over him. His control gone, their union struck in a violent and brutal ecstasy, waves upon waves of their consoling oneness ...
They were left in a tumult in the aftermath, working to catch their breath. After a long moment he found his calm, and he bent his lips to her cheek, caressing her other cheek with his thumb.
Skye let out a long sigh, the plague of her desire healed. Thoughts of his betrayal began invading her contentment. Her reality came back to her, and she pushed weakly against his shoulders.
“Skye,” he scolded quietly. “Do you honestly believe that I would want another?”
She didn’t know what to believe. Her head swam in her confusion, her euphoria—and her hurt.
The rain began falling, sending the large cold drops down, warning of the drenching torrents to come. He rose quickly and grasped her arm and pulled her up to him, keeping a firm grip on her as he headed for her camp. He released her and gathered up her bed, and laid it out on the ground.
Reaching in for the control panel at the bed’s head, he activated the energy shield on a tint mode, and a dark dome appeared above it; the shield would keep out the rain and ensure their privacy. He motioned for her to enter its protection and she obeyed. He followed, his large frame filling the small space, the bed being made for one, leaving him no choice but to take her into his arms, a concept he took to gladly.
He shifted onto his side, supporting himself on his elbow with his cheek on his hand, and he reached for the control panel with his other hand and flicked on a light. A soft glow emanated from the four walls, at the base of the rectangle, illuminating his face.
He stared down on her intently, allowing his emotions to be clear to her in his blue-green eyes ... his ardor, for what had just happened between them ... anger, for what she had done to him ... hurt, for her lack of trust in him ... admiration, for something only he knew why ... smugness, for he had captured her again ... curiosity, for he couldn’t quite figure her out ... desire, for he wanted her again ... disapproval, for all the hell she had put him through ... His eyes stayed on that emotion, for he clearly wanted her to know about his disapproval ...
She glanced away, and when she looked again, he still was staring. She shrank a bit from the regal admonishment, finding no words to say in her defense.
Finally, he spoke. “Dammit, woman,” he said flatly. “What were you thinking?”
Skye swallowed and located her voice. “How did you find me?”
“I’ll always find you, no matter where you’d run,” he said simply.
She thought about how very strongly she had felt his presence earlier, when she had bathed. “Were you ... here today?” she managed to ask.
“For a while,” he replied. He let her wonder a moment, and then he said, “You’ve a lovely voice, a good hand—you’ve got the talent. That was a very ... sad song. Did you write it?”
She shook her head, her cheeks hot. “My papa did, for my mama.”
“You must miss them very much.”
She nodded. But, in all truth, she had been missing him.
Quietly he asked, “Why did you run from me?”
She sighed, deciding to tell him about his mother’s hurtful words. “Your mother ... doesn’t approve of me.”
“So that was you who overheard my mother and Cronala gossiping.”
She was surprised. “How do you know about that?”
“My mother told me about it. Skye, they were talking about Audrey. My mother would never say an unkind word about you—neither would Cronala. They like you. Audrey, on the other hand ...”
Skye’s eyes widened while she took in this news. This put a whole new light on the situation ...
He sighed. “You must have thought tha
t we royals are nothing but a bunch of ogres.”
She had thought that ...
“Well, we’re not. The entire family is very worried about you. All of Adriel is on watch for you. Disappearing like that ... Just up and running off like that ... You could have come to me and told me.”
Skye refused to feel guilty. She was angry, instead. “You were too busy with Audrey.”
Exasperated, he leaned over her, his hot gaze on hers. “Dammit, Skye! When will you get it through that stubborn head of yours? I have no interest in Audrey! Yes, I had her once—a long time ago—and I tell you, that was a mistake! She’s a whinny little brat! She could never compare to you! You’re ... I want ...”
Nicholas had a million more thoughts that he wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t find the words. He bent to kiss her, resolving to show her, instead.
Skye welcomed his kiss, knowing in her heart that he spoke the truth. She knew the press of his desire against her thigh and she spread her legs for him, and he was eager to comply. He moved atop her, filling her with his passion ... and he took her gently, savoring their reunion. In her quiet elation, her spirit opened to him once more, giving to him her will. She had no choice. She was his.
The rain rushed fluently against the dome, giving their warm haven a cozy feel, adding softness to their downy bed. His masterful lips moved from hers down to her breasts, him taking pleasure in the stimulation he made for her, how she gratified languorously in his slightest touch. He stayed within her, motionless at times, drawing from her her want of him ... bringing them to paradise.
After they rested a moment, he drew back the heavy covers, and they settled in between the sheets. She lay on his breast and he gently stroked her brow, making her know—for the moment, at least—the sweetness of peace.
***
Skye opened her eyes and saw the clear blue sky above. She was disoriented until she realized that she had fallen asleep. She turned and saw Nicholas stirring a pot on the fire, and breathed in relief that last night wasn’t just a dream. She actually felt rested. Last night was the first in a long while that she had truly slept, being safe in the comfort of his arms.
He saw that she was awake and gave her a bright smile. “Rise and shine, sleepy head! It’s a brand new day.”
He hummed a comical tune while he went about his cooking, in a very cheery mood. She smiled warmly and threw back the covers, rising from the bed. She surmised that he had been up a while, for the leggings that they had discarded last night were hanging up on a tree limb to dry. He wore a dark-blue pair that he had, no doubt, taken from his backpack that was nearby hers. She moved to hers and took out a dry blue pair, and hurried into them, feeling his eyes upon her, her shirt not quite covering her lower region. He chuckled at her ridiculous modesty, and she ignored him and found her brush, working the soft tangles from her hair.
The smell of fish frying enticed her nose and she moved to the fire, curious as to what he was creating, there. She saw that he knew how to utilize nature’s gifts, fixing a sizzling pan of fillets with an accompanying side of steamed fruit, along with a pot of herbs that he had boiled into a deep, brown brew.
He poured the brew into a cup and refilled his own. He offered her the cup, saying, “Try this. It’s similar to coffee, but with more of a bitter taste. I have to have my coffee,” he added, with a wink.
She took it and had a sip of the strong but pleasant drink. He filled two plates with their breakfast and gave her one. He offered her her chair and she sat, and he took his place near to her, sitting cross-legged by the fire.
She found that he was an excellent cook, having flavored the meat with a leafy herb of the wilds. Curious, she asked, “How did you know about stagnalie corolla?”
He swallowed his bite and smiled. “You taste it, huh? You’re not the only one who knows how to live out here,” he informed. “Survival courses are a requirement in FAS training. I’ve eaten things that I doubt you’d want to.”
She considered his inborn prowess and said, “I could bet that you passed with flying colors.”
He nodded. “That, I did.” He took another bite of the fish, enjoying the taste. “Umhmm. It’s been a long while since I’ve had fresh trout, caught by myself from a stream. It sure is nice, out here. I think I’ll stay.”
She laughed and glanced down at him, believing that he was jesting. “You’ll stay?”
He nodded, and he was serious. “It’s much more pleasant out here than out there, isn’t it? Here you’ve only to worry about finding your next meal, and there ... well, you have to worry about being someone’s next meal. The paparazzi nigh try to eat me alive every time I leave the safety zone of the palace. And they’d do the same to you.”
She set down her fork, suddenly nervous. “But, you’re the prince royal. You can’t just stay here.”
He waved off his title with his hand. “So what? They don’t really need me. If you want to be out here, roaming the countryside, so do I. You seem to want to run off every time I turn around. If you’re here, what’s for me there?”
“But you have your duties. And the FAS ...”
“In all truth, it’s more of a hobby. I can do as I please.”
Skye fell silent, knowing that he couldn’t truly leave his regal responsibilities behind. She thought that he was trying to make her a victim of reverse psychology, but still, she couldn’t quite tell. He seemed sincere ...
The remainder of the meal passed quietly, she having much to think about. The wilds no longer were the same, if she were to explore them all alone. The hills were barren without him ...
He rose when their plates were empty, taking hers and setting them aside. He grasped her hand and urged her up, to follow him. He led her to the waterfall’s bank, and with a fluent motion he pulled his shirt off, revealing his tanned, magnificent breast.
“See?” he asked softly. “I can do this. No prying eyes ...”
He came near her and took her from her shirt, lifting it up and off her. Wide-eyed, she stared up at his hot blue-green eyes.
“The day is warm,” he whispered. “The sun shining ... What more do we need?”
Skye needed nothing else, and she joined his mood while they shed their clothes and headed off to the waterfall’s adventure. She gave herself to the balmy day and to him, her laughter coming easy and light, caught up in his playful warmth, the freeness of his heart unencumbered by his name. His splashes at her soon became a serious romp in passion, as he took her beside the waterfall’s spraying mist, flooding her with his blinding brightness ...
It was as it was at the cabin on Myrrh, only now they knew who they truly were—and the consequences of it. The morning became the afternoon, but neither cared of the passage of time, lost in their perfect utopia. They cared about nothing but their nearness, exploring each other’s spirit and their natural forms, as true as the ageless beauty that surrounded them. They rested on the grassy bank, contented ... until his need for indulgence arose once more, sweeping her off into the high blue sky above ...
It was only after the sun had finished its descent and a chill dampened the air that reality invaded their thoughts. He sparked the fire, and they dressed, to ward off the cold of the habitual mountain rains. He paced a moment and moved over to the cliff, taking in the view of Seascape City, a hint of the palace far off down the cove.
She went to him and he smiled softly, and drew her close, her slender back against his breast. They gazed out on the miles of flickering lights, sparkling in the haze.
He let out a long sigh. “I meant what I said, Skye—there’s no need to run,” he said quietly. “I’ll be with you wherever you go.”
Skye swallowed hard in her emotion. “Your place is down there. You’ve no escape from that. My place ...”
He held her even tighter. “Is with me, as my princess. But, do you think you can handle all of that down there, Skye? Do you want to?”
Suddenly, darkness came over the valley, the blackness of the night lit onl
y by the faint light of the stars above. Every light in Seascape was extinguished—in an ominous portent.
Startled, Nicholas dropped his hands from her, taking a step back. “What the hell?” he uttered. “That’s not good.”
Skye was as bewildered as he ...
The lights came on again, giving Nicholas his relief. “Must have been a satellite malfunction,” he said, calmer now. “It’s very rare, but it can hap—”
Again the lights went out, in a complete and utter blackout.
Chapter 20
A state of emergency gripped Queen’s Palace when Nicholas and Skye arrived, making their way through the chaos. Nicholas—after having tried to contact the palace with his comm and finding that the communication satellites were also down—had quickly gathered their belongings. He had taken bewildered Skye into his tow, finding his way to his ship, and made a hasty flight over the dark city to the royal estate that was lit forebodingly with only a few essential floodlights. He couldn’t dock his ship in the palace bay, being forced to maneuver a vertical landing on the southern lawns, amidst other ships and autos of the servants and guests who were caught out in the lockdown.
The voltaic shields protected the vast royal estate, the Royal Guard allowing no access in but through the narrow foot gate where others awaited the strict security checks. The crimson and gold uniforms of the guardsmen flashed in the roving lights while they went about securing the perimeter. When spotting the prince royal and his miraculously found ladylove, two guards urgently ushered them over to the invisible barrier, dropping the shield to allow their entrance into safety.
Nicholas took a guard aside. “What’s going on?” he asked anxiously. “Where’s the auxiliary power?”
The seasoned guard tried not to show his incredible nervousness. “We’ve only Sentry Five auxiliary, Your Royal Highness! We’re under attack!”
“Attack?” he questioned. “By whom?”
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