The Prince's Bride

by Victoria Alexander

  “Is there anything else?” She glared.

  “I daresay I needn’t tell you not to say a word to your husband. Or perhaps I do.” A hard light shone in Alexei’s eyes. “Should you have any thoughts of revealing my plan to my cousin I shall make certain he does not live long enough to so much as be indignant. His life is in your hands, and you will hold your tongue.” He stepped closer and pinned her with an unyielding glare. “And that, my dear Lady Beaumont, is an order.”

  She bit back a sharp retort, knowing it would do her no good.

  “Now then, we must both return to the celebration before we are missed.” He raised his glass and cast her a pleasant smile. “I look forward to seeing you in the morning.”

  She smiled sweetly. “And I look forward to seeing you in hell.”

  She turned and left the library, his laugh echoing behind her. Jocelyn hurried down the long hallway and slipped into the ballroom as unobtrusively as possible. Her heart thudded in her chest, her breath was fast, and her hands shook. She twisted the ring on her finger nervously and struggled to pull herself together. No one must notice her distress.

  Especially not Rand.

  She had no choice in the matter. She didn’t want to believe Alexei would really have Rand killed but it was a gamble she was not willing to take. He was the man she loved and she would do whatever was necessary to keep him safe. Up to and including letting him think she had left him for another man. Abandoned him. Betrayed him.

  He had married her to protect her. Now it was Jocelyn’s turn to protect him.

  Chapter 18

  “You were exceptionally quiet this evening.” Rand pulled off his waistcoat and dropped it on a chair.

  “Was I?” Jocelyn said brightly. She had changed to her nightclothes before he came up. It seemed altogether natural to be here in his rooms, their rooms, alone with him, preparing for bed.

  She sat on an overstuffed chair near the hearth. In spite of the warm, early summer night, she’d been chilled all evening. A chill that had little to do with the temperature of the night air. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  She’d tried, of course, to maintain a lighthearted air, but it was nearly impossible given her talk with Alexei and her role in his plan. How could she pretend that all was well when the specter of what she was about to do hung over her? How could she consider anything at all save what Rand would think when he discovered she’d gone?

  “You seemed rather preoccupied as well,” Rand said casually.

  “Not at all,” she murmured, mesmerized by the play of light from the fire across the jewels on her ring.

  Would he think everything between them was a lie?

  Would he wonder if indeed she was exactly as he’d thought when they’d first met: shallow and spoiled, with questionable morals? Would he be angry when he discovered she’d left him for Alexei? Or heartbroken? Or would he care at all?

  “Jocelyn?”

  The diamonds sparkled and blue fire shot from the sapphire.

  Would he come after her? Or would he be relieved to see her go?

  The back of her throat ached and a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to tell him everything and had indeed come close to confessing a dozen times or more in the past hours, but fear had kept her still.

  Would he understand? Would he ever forgive her?

  The ring was heavy on her finger, at once a token and an accusation.

  “Jocelyn?”

  The concerned note in his voice caught her attention and she jerked her gaze to his. “Yes?”

  His brow furrowed. “Are you certain there is nothing amiss?”

  He stood beside the bed, clad now only in trousers and shirt. She drank in the sight of him, wondering when, or even if, she’d see him like this again.

  “No, not at all.” She shook her head, then got to her feet and walked toward him, twisting the ring on her finger in what was fast becoming a comforting habit. “May I ask you a question?”

  “I thought this was coming.” He smiled tolerantly.

  “What?” She brushed aside a stab of fear.

  “My finances.” He grimaced in a sheepish manner. “First I should apologize—”

  “No, no.” Jocelyn waved away his words. “I am curious of course, who wouldn’t be? But that’s of no consequence at the moment. What I was wondering ...”

  She blew a long breath and stepped closer to him. She caught his dark gaze with her own and gathered her courage. “Do you ...”

  “Do I what?” His lips curved in a curious smile.

  “Do you...” She squared her shoulders. “Do you love me?”

  “Do I love you?” he said thoughtfully. He took her hands in his, turned them palms up, and brought them to his lips. “I would climb mountains for you.” He kissed the center of one palm. “Swim oceans.” He kissed the other palm, then turned her hands over and brushed his lips across the back of one hand. His gaze never left hers. “Slay dragons.” He did the same with the other hand. “Capture the stars.”

  “That’s all very well and good, Rand, but—”

  “Yes.” He laughed. “My dear Lady Beaumont, my darling wife, I do indeed love you.”

  She swallowed hard. “And I love you.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “It’s only because you know I am not as poor as you thought, isn’t it?”

  “That’s it entirely.” She was abruptly grateful for the teasing turn their talk had taken. A moment ago she had been perilously close to tears and that would never do. She was terrified at the thought of breaking down and telling him everything. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with that slaying dragon or catching stars nonsense.”

  “That’s a relief.” Rand sighed dramatically. “My sword is a bit rusty and my star-catching net has a nasty hole in it.” He shook his head mournfully. “Couldn’t catch so much as a firefly at the moment.”

  “Oh dear.” She brushed her lips across his. “You shall have to find another way to prove your love then.”

  His arms tightened around her. “How could I possibly do that?”

  “Let me think.” Her lips whispered against his. “I am having a most difficult time coming up with even a vague idea. I might well be able to think better if I was not overdressed.” She stepped back, out of his arms, and shrugged off her wrapper, letting it fall to the floor.

  “I was thinking the same thing.” He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

  “I am getting an idea now.” She stepped closer.

  “As am I,” he said softly. He grasped the fine fabric of her nightrail and slowly pulled it up and over her head. It joined the wrapper and his shirt. She shook her hair free and felt it drift over her shoulders. He drew her back into his arms and bent his head to trail kisses along the side of her neck and over her shoulder. His hands skimmed over the length of her arms, and she shivered with his touch. “Have you thought of anything yet?”

  “Not a thing,” she whispered. “I fear the blood has rushed from my head and my mind is not working at all.”

  “Perhaps you would do better lying down?”

  “Indeed, I think that would be much, much better.”

  He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down as if she might break if he was not careful. As if she was cherished. She lay on the bed and watched him strip off his trousers, marveling at the unique circumstances that had brought them to this point. And praying that the fates that controlled their lives would not pull them apart forever.

  The candlelight cast a warm glow over the hard planes of his body and she reached out for him. He sank onto the bed beside her and took her into his arms. Gently, as if they had all the time in the world, never knowing they had only this last night.

  Their lips met with a sweetness born of love, and for a long while kissing him, tasting the faint echo of champagne, was enough. Her tongue met and mated with his in a leisurely, sensuous dance. Her body
fit against his with a naturalness that defied reason and defined fate. Her breasts pressed against his chest and his body warmed hers with a heat that enveloped her, surrounded her, sank into her soul.

  His hands traveled over her back, caressed her buttocks, teasing her flesh. She fought against the urgency rising within her at his touch. She wanted this night to last forever. Wanted to remain in the circle of his arms, safe and protected and loved. And wanted to love and protect him in return.

  She explored his body with her fingers and her lips, memorizing every plane, every angle, every valley. She needed to remember every nuance of his touch, every subtlety of every caress. She kissed the scar on his shoulder and traced it with the tips of her fingers. She ran her hands over the muscles of his chest and tasted the pulse point at the base of his throat.

  He responded in kind, his movements slow and languorous as if he too wanted this night to never end. His lips drifted over her throat and lower to the valley between her breasts. His tongue encircled one nipple, then the next. Her mind fogged with the exquisite sensations and she wanted nothing more than the pleasure of his mouth on her skin. His hand lightly trailed up between her legs to the juncture of her thighs and her legs opened for him. His fingers slipped over her, slick with desire and need. He stroked the wondrous point of passion she’d discovered only with him, and she shuddered beneath his easy, measured rhythm. And gloried in the erotic torture of his touch. Tension built within her and she fought against release.

  When she thought she could take no more, he shifted to kneel over her and straddled her legs. She reached up and caressed the hard, velvet length of him with both hands. He groaned at her touch and she stroked him until he quivered beneath her fingers. She guided him downward and he slid into her.

  The muscles of his back were tense beneath her hands and she knew he was as taut with need as she. Yet she refused to lose herself in surrender.

  Slowly he moved within her. She matched his movement with her own, with an ease and a joy and a touch of sorrow even the pleasure of their mating couldn’t dispel. He thrust harder and faster and she moved with him, allowing sheer sensation to flood her, fill her, consume her. Until at last the tight, aching spiral within her shattered and her body arched upward and she cried aloud with the bittersweet glory of their joining. He groaned against her neck and his body trembled with his own release.

  And they were one. Now and always.

  And if there was a tear or two upon her cheek at the end, she dashed it away for fear he would notice.

  She clung to him for a long time, not wanting as much as a breath of space between them. At last she reluctantly released him and rolled onto her side. Rand wrapped himself around her, his chest against her back, his legs curved behind hers.

  “Well, that was certainly ... certainly ...” His sigh of contentment shivered through her as if they were still one.

  “Yes indeed, it was, most definitely, certainly.” She laughed lightly in spite of her heavy heart.

  “It does strike me, though, that while I have valiantly offered proof of my love for you, you have offered none to me.” His voice was teasing.

  “Oh? This was not proof?”

  “Mutual proof perhaps.” He chuckled. “However, it does seem that if I am willing to swim oceans and climb mountains to show my love for you...” He nuzzled her ear. “What will you do to show your love for me?”

  She paused for a long moment. “Jocelyn?”

  “Whatever I must,” she said softly. “Whatever I must.”

  ———

  They made love again in the night until finally Rand fell into a deep, satisfied sleep. But slumber offered no escape for Jocelyn. She propped herself up on her elbow and studied his dear face by the faint light of the stars from the window. His features were relaxed and content, like an innocent, without a care in the world. She did so like watching him sleep.

  She ignored the tears that slipped down her cheeks. Was it only a fortnight ago that they’d wed? Did he know her well enough to truly trust her? Their newly acknowledged love was so fragile, so untested, was it strong enough to see them through this?

  She watched him for long hours, trying to fix his features forever in her mind. The sweet curve of his lips, the firm line of his jaw, his lashes dark against his cheek, until finally the gray light of dawn peeked through the window.

  And she knew their time together was at an end.

  Moments later a sharp rap sounded at the door. Rand was awake at once. He stumbled out of bed and strode toward the door, grabbing his dressing gown on the way. Jocelyn followed a step behind.

  “Yes,” he snapped. “What in the hell is it?”

  “A messenger, my lord, bearing a note from Worthington.” Chesney’s sleepy voice sounded from the hall. “He said it was quite urgent.”

  “Slip it under the door.” Rand cast her a quick glance, then retrieved the folded note that slid into sight. He scanned it, the lines of his face hardening.

  “What is it?” She stepped closer, afraid to hear what form Alexei’s ruse had taken.

  “It’s from your brother. He says there was a mishap with the fire they set.” His gaze met hers and fear shone in his dark eyes. “Nigel was injured.”

  “Oh no, not that.” Shock swept through her. How could Alexei be so cruel? Surely he knew how close Rand was to the elderly man. “I have to go back.” He raked his fingers through his hair and called through the door. “Chesney, are you still there?”

  “Certainly, my lord.” Chesney’s voice came without hesitation.

  “See to it my horse is saddled immediately. I shall leave at once.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Chesney’s voice faded into faint commands in the hall.

  “Rand.” She stepped to him and framed his face with her hands, meeting his gaze directly. She longed to tell him this was nothing more than Alexei’s scheme to lure him away but she couldn’t. “Try not to worry. I know Nigel will be all right.”

  Rand’s expression didn’t falter but apprehension edged his voice. “He is an old man, Jocelyn. He seems quite healthy now but he barely survived his recent illness. I don’t know if he ...” Rand shook his head and blew a resigned breath. “I just don’t know.”

  “I do,” she said with all the conviction of truth. “He will be fine.”

  He pulled her into his arms and for a long moment they held each other. It wasn’t nearly enough but it was the only comfort she could offer. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Nigel for long. Once he reached Worthington Castle he’d know the truth. About his uncle anyway.

  He released her with a reluctance she shared. “I have to go.”

  “I know,” she said with a catch in her throat.

  In no time at all he was dressed and ready to leave. He took her in his arms and kissed her long and hard.

  “I hate to leave you but—”

  She quieted him with another kiss, then drew back and gazed into his eyes. “I know.”

  His gaze searched hers. “No matter what I find, it will be easier knowing you are here waiting for me.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “I could take you with me.”

  For less than a moment she wanted to agree. Run away from Alexei’s plots with Rand and never stop running. But would Alexei permit that? Would Rand ever be safe from his cousin’s threats? She shook her head. “You’ll travel faster alone.”

  He nodded and opened the door.

  Panic seized her and she grabbed his hand and stared into his eyes. “No matter how far apart we may be, regardless of any distance between us, know that I will always, always love you. Promise me you will remember that.”

  He cast her a puzzled smile and pulled her hand to his lips, his dark, endless eyes echoing his words. “I promise.”

  “Now go,” she whispered.

  He nodded and took his leave. She sagged against the door frame and allowed tears once again to flow, but only for a moment. There was no time for sorrow. Impatiently
she swiped at her cheeks, closed the door, and strode across the room to the window. She twisted her ring absently and waited. He appeared on the street beneath her almost at once, mounting his horse and riding off without a backward glance.

  And why not? As far as he knew there was nothing behind him to cause concern.

  She turned away from the window, washed and dressed hurriedly in one of the gowns she pulled from her bag. The dresses still in the small valise were sadly wrinkled but she didn’t particularly care about her appearance at the moment. The irony of the thought struck her. Aunt Louella would love it. She placed her spectacles on her nose defiantly. If she was going to be hauled halfway across Europe she’d prefer to see where she was going.

  She started to close the bag, then realized the wrapped portrait was still inside. She pulled it out and set it on the floor, leaning against the wall. Pity she couldn’t use it in some way to leave Rand a message. To let him know the truth.

  She hesitated to put anything in writing. Who knew what hands a note might fall into? And Alexei had been firm about exactly what to tell her husband.

  She glanced out the window. Rand had said the men he had watching the house would leave at dawn. With Alexei scheduled to leave London after daybreak, her husband was confident any threat to her would leave with the prince.

  There was no coach yet but she knew she had precious few minutes to think of something. She paced the room, absently twisting the ring on her finger. If only she’d paid more attention to coming up with her own plan to counteract Alexei through the long hours of the night instead of feeling sorry for herself. Damnation, perhaps she wasn’t the least bit intelligent after all. And pretty certainly wasn’t going to do her much good now.

  She looked out the window once again and her heart sank. A traveling coach pulled into sight. There was no time left. She grabbed her bag and started toward the door. She reached to open it and the sapphire caught the light and her eye.

  She’d sworn she’d never take it off. What if she did?

  The woman she’d been a few weeks ago would have worn it for its beauty and value alone. The woman she was now cared only for the meaning behind it. Would Rand realize the difference?