Why was everything upside down here and nothing what it seemed to be? She tried to feel her usual amusement and had difficulty embracing it. Alejandro mattered too much to her. When had she allowed this to happen?
“We can discuss the ceremonial repertoire at a later time,” Alejandro stated, coming to her rescue.
“I can see from your expression that you do not approve of our customs, Lady Nicolette,” remarked Rafael with a dazzling smile.
“But for the grace of God, Señor Ortega, you might be that bull and the situations reversed,” replied Nicolette.
“Señorita Nicolette”—Rafael laughed—“to experience another country you must leave your own at the door. You cannot condemn another culture from the perspective of your own. For the bull, who was born and bred for the fight, the bullring is a more noble end than the butcher’s block. And the bull’s odds are better—the bull can win. Several matadors are gored each season.”
“Just as the matador lives for the duel, so does the bull,” Alejandro added.
“Possibly the bull likes to be stabbed, and that is the reason that he cries as he dies,” she murmured, but she immediately wished she hadn’t said it. Being raised by a diplomat, she was familiar with the idea that words could make anything acceptable. But she was certainly not going to change the mind of anyone here, and she did not wish to cause Alejandro any embarrassment. She owed him more than that for successfully saving her image in Paris, rescuing her when she was a lost cause.
“You have not seen a show until you have seen Rafael fight in the bullring, Lady Nicolette.” Alejandro studied her, but she was unable to read his opinion of her. There was nothing new in that. “I am certain that it is not as you might picture.” He began chuckling, even as the queen mother smiled—a rare occurrence in her experience.
“Why do you laugh, Your Majesty?” Lady Elaina asked, saving Nicolette once again.
“Rafael has perfected the unique fighting technique of espantada,” Alejandro explained.
“Espantada?” asked Nicolette, startled as the translation ran through in her mind. “Sudden flight? I don’t understand.”
“Very good.” Alejandro smiled warmly, and she felt her heart flutter. “Yes, when the bull enters the ring, Rafael flees. That is his method.”
“Don’t you see, Señorita?” Rafael burst into laughter. “If you give it a name, it becomes a method.”
“Rafael sometimes fights with a chair.” The queen mother’s eyes danced, but she reduced her smile, an action that apparently placed a great burden on her energy reserves. “He is considered the most amusing of Spain’s bullfighters.”
“Once Rafael spared the bull because he claimed that the bull winked at him,” continued Alejandro. “The audience roared with laughter.”
“So the bull lived?” Nicolette beamed at the bullfighter who had shown compassion.
“No, sadly not.” Rafael shook his head. “My brother was concerned about the family honor and hopped into the ring and killed the bull.”
Nicolette studied Rafael with new eyes as his unique stance amidst this culture’s definition of masculinity became starkly clear. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth despite her best efforts to remain aloof.
“Señorita Nicolette, let me escort you tomorrow to the tienta, a testing of the young bulls being chosen for the bullring.” Rafael smiled, and he was indeed dashing. “Several of Spain’s matadors will be present, and you will find it very informative and enjoyable.”
“Oh, no. Thank you, but I could not bear to see an animal killed for sport.”
“The young bulls are never killed, Señorita. They are two years old rather than the four-year-old bulls who fight in the ring.”
The queen mother finally displayed a genuine smile, it seemed to Nicolette. “Rafael bestows a great honor upon you, Lady Nicolette. You will be the envy of all of Spain’s señoritas.”
“I thank you, Señor Ortega, that is most kind of you. But I must prepare tomorrow for my first concert. Otherwise I would be sorely tempted, I assure you.”
Nicolette observed the queen mother’s disappointment, but the slight tension in Alejandro’s expression seemed to drain instantly.
Dinner continued, with her favorite dishes being poblano peppers stuffed with cheese and potatoes, meat strips sizzling with mushrooms, onions, and green peppers, and broiled red snapper covered in succulent shrimp and a lemon white sauce. Dessert consisted of a fresh fruit salad of strawberries, melon, and cherries and a cake soaking in rum and drizzled in chocolate.
Caruso sang during dessert, followed by dancing in the royal ballroom. As promised, Alejandro claimed the first dance from Nicolette. They walked to the center of the grand ballroom, the only couple on the floor in a huge room at least sixty feet high. The orchestra began to play, and he took her into his arms as everyone watched.
She looked up into his eyes, even more intense than usual in all the candle lighting. His almost-black hair was long in the front with a tendency to fall across his forehead, especially as he bent down to look at her.
She tried to control her beating heart by reminding herself that it was just one more staged production. Certainly everyone was as attentive as in the grandest theatre, but even the opulence, the mesmerizing lights, and the glorious costumes could not confirm the illusion.
This was real. She was dancing with the king of Spain, all eyes on her. And the most important eyes—the only ones which truly mattered to her—were his.
As she whirled in his arms, the force of his gaze thrilled her. Up until now, her experience had been anything but a fairy tale.
“Did my mother disturb you, Nicolette?” As if to read her thoughts, Alejandro murmured into her ear, his breath warm on her cheek. It felt glorious to hear her name on his lips.
“No more so than anyone else,” she replied truthfully with an involuntary giggle. Warmth whirled up through her body as she was whizzed through the air as if she were on a cloud. She wouldn’t allow anything to interfere with this heavenly moment.
“Nicolette.” He pulled her closer to him as he twirled her through the waltz. “I have missed you so much. I have never felt so alive as when I was in Paris with you.”
“And do you like Paris so very much, Your Majesty?” She closed her eyes briefly.
“I detest Paris.”
“But you only just said…”
“I feel as if you are my entire world at the same time you are entirely removed from it, Nicolette.”
“That is very true, Alejandro. I do not belong here.” She swallowed hard. “I mean, Your Majesty.”
“Call me by name, Nicolette.” His lips brushed her cheek. “Give me that, at least.”
“Of course, Alejandro,” she murmured in subdued tones. “But do you think it wise in public? Someone might overhear.”
“Do you suggest a private meeting then, Nicolette? I fear that being alone with you would challenge my resolve. I have tried to forget my feelings for you in vain.”
She hadn’t thought she was suggesting such a thing, but with each touch, each breath on her skin, an electric current swept through her body, and the thought occurred to her that it was precisely what she wanted. What was happening to her? No man had ever affected her in this way. Why did it have to be someone who was positively unattainable?
This was the reality, and she was not one to pity a situation or to pretend that it was something other than what it was. She smiled a slow, sultry smile. But I am one to make the most of it.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here, Nicolette. I must marry…” Alejandro cursed under his breath.
“Shhh, not now, Alejandro,” she whispered, putting her head on his chest.
He held her more tightly, as if he wished to hold on to her forever.
Nicolette closed her eyes momentarily. Certainly she could control her physical reactions to this man. But she didn’t believe that she wished to any longer. This might be the last time she ever saw him, and she didn
’t wish to regret what might have been for the rest of her life. She had no intention of marrying him—or anyone, for that matter—though there was no question of that alliance. He would marry well, and the thought filled her with a tinge of remorse.
Even with all these impossible circumstances, she was starting to wonder if Alejandro was not the love of her life. And, if that were true, she could not bear to experience him partway. She had never done anything in halves in her life.
She looked up at him. As she stared at him, it seemed an unlikely attraction. How, of all the men in the world, could this be the man she most loved? He was boorish, old-fashioned, and arrogant. She was liberal minded and innovative. He was strong, disciplined, and determined to fulfill his duty. She was determined to live in joy. He was Catholic, and she was…well, she didn’t know what she was. Buddhist? Christian? The Church of Nicolette? She prayed for others, and she prayed that she might grow in love. But mostly she just lived.
And she made no apologies. She was willing to stand before her Maker when and if the time came and to support her decision to follow her heart and to live with all her heart.
“Alejandro, I have one wish while I am here in Spain.”
“Anything, and it is yours, Nicolette.”
“I wish you to meet me in my bedchamber tonight.”
He coughed for only an instant. He held her very close, and his breath was hot in her ear. “Might I have a private word with you on the veranda, Nicolette?”
“Of course, Alejandro.” She smiled to herself. Finally a reaction. She appreciated staid words of affection, but what she really wanted was evidence of their truth.
They walked out onto the veranda. Everywhere they went, people saluted and bowed and curtseyed. It was positively unnerving.
“Do not let anyone pass,” Alejandro commanded to the guards, and there was the threat of death in his tone. She supposed there were some advantages to being the supreme ruler of a country. He led her out into the garden.
His brown eyes seemed to swallow her whole, caressing her. She saw the desire there that had been there at their first meeting. The realization thrilled her. She had begun to think that she had no effect on this man.
“Nicolette, we have already discussed this.” He shook his head and let her hands drop, running his hands through his hair in exposed frustration. “It is no use. I long for you, body and soul, and I cannot.”
She stared at him in disbelief. He stood before her like stone, all six feet of dark-brown hair and chocolate eyes and sinewy muscle.
“I could not defile you, Nicolette.” He threw his head into his hands. “You are too precious to me. With you, making love would be a sacred covenant.”
“I don’t want to be part of your stupid sacred…” She was furious now. She stomped her foot. “I don’t want to be holy in your eyes! And I don’t want your head filled with your duty or your analysis or your regard for me. Don’t you see, Alejandro?” She rubbed against him, and she saw the immediate shock and desire in his countenance.
“See what?” He gulped.
“I want you to think of me and of nothing else. I want to be far more important than your arrangements.” She clenched her fists.
“Arrangements? It has nothing to do with…”
“Most of all, I want you to be so filled with need for me that no words can come to mind!” She let her breath out slowly and added in a whisper, “As I am for you, Alejandro.”
Without the slightest pause, he took her in his arms and kissed her, fervently, with a need she had never known. His tongue entered her mouth, demanding more. He pulled her to him until there was no space between them. As his mouth possessed hers, an electric shock rushed through her, and she felt instantly giddy to the pit of her stomach. She rubbed her hands along his arms and felt strong muscles there.
He held her rigidly against him, running his hands along her hips as he held her in the crook of his arm at an angle, desperately plunging his tongue into her mouth, spreading kisses along her neck, returning to her mouth with even more fervor, more than she could have imagined.
“Alejandro,” she whispered, feeling his every movement and responding to it. It was like a falling dream in slow motion when one was half-awake and half-asleep, terrifying and tranquil at the same time. She was completely present with him as he was with her. She had never felt so close to him, he who was so difficult to reach.
And then he became closer. His free hand moved to her full breasts, caressing her through the fabric, even as he groaned and deepened his kiss. In one movement he picked her up and moved her to the bench, where he sat and pulled her into his lap, planting kisses along her breasts, only her nipples covered with fabric. His kisses moved lower and lower, and with his free hand he gently pushed up on her breast, massaging her, his lips moving slowly, caressingly—much too slowly—toward her nipple.
“Alejandro! Please, please…” she moaned, heat and longing spreading through her body. With her hand she felt the contours of his muscled chest, longing for something she could not name. She could tell that he was becoming more and more aroused as well, his breathing jagged.
Even as his lips had almost reached their goal, just as abruptly he jumped up and set her down on the bench, pacing frantically in front of her. He stared at her, aghast. “Oh, my God! Nicolette, I cannot allow my illicit lust to deface something so exquisite, someone who doesn’t know what she offers. I would have nothing left to give to you if I destroyed my character, my honor, in the process. What would I present you with? Not a man but a worthless, disgusting, and selfish…”
“I don’t see that you are giving me anything now!” she exclaimed. “You never have, Alejandro. And do you know why? Because your supposed duty receives your full allegiance. For one moment in your life, can you think about something besides your bloody image and your responsibilities, Alejandro?”
He turned away from her, and she stood, moving to stand in front of him. In her heeled shoes, she was able to brush her lips against his, and his eyes flew wide open.
“Nicolette…please…”
“Put yourself first, Alejandro. If you are not present, how can it be your life? For once, I want you to think of something besides your duty.”
“All right, you have me there, Nicolette. I am thinking of something else. And my thoughts are not honorable.”
“Good,” she replied, running the palms of her hands along his chest. She watched him close his eyes momentarily, as if he were attempting to focus. “If you do not know what you are feeling, how will I ever know? Show me what desire looks like, Alejandro.”
“You will know desire, Nicolette. Just not from me.” There was sadness and remorse in his eyes.
“Alejandro, at least let us have this brief time together,” she whispered softly. She touched his face, loving the feel of his cheek against her hand. “I want to be in this moment with you, not playing out the script in your head. Do you remember the last time we were together?”
“Of course,” he replied, dazed. “It changed my life.”
“And yet I threw myself at you, and you did not respond. Do you have no reaction to me, Alejandro?”
“I assure you, Nicolette, that I have a very great reaction to you.”
“Prove it to me,” she dared. “Come to my room tonight. I will leave the connecting door unlocked at precisely midnight. This is all that we have, Alejandro. I will never be your wife, and you will never be my husband. But there is no one else I want, no one else I will ever want. Give me one night of rapture.”
“You want me above all others, Nicolette?”
“Yes,” she replied without the slightest hesitation.
He smiled and then leaned down and kissed her slowly, his tongue teasing her, his lips moving slowly across hers.
“You think you do,” he whispered hoarsely. His words were choppy, and he seemed to have difficulty forming them. “You have already impacted me more than any woman who has given her body to me, Nicolette. You hav
e touched me with your music. Do not sacrifice yourself as well.”
“Sacrifice myself?” She laughed. “I am doing this for myself. I want to feel you truly with me, Alejandro. All of you. I want to know your intensity and your soul.” She ran her hand along his cheek. “I gave you what you wished, now give me that which I wish.”
She reached up, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard. At first he would not part his lips. And then he moaned, bent down, and crushed her against his chest. He opened his mouth and seemed to swallow her, demanding everything from her. His hands ran along her back and over her hips, pulling her toward him, and he moaned again. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly.
The touch of his lips on hers was heaven to her. She felt as if she were floating.
And in an instant he pulled away, breathing heavily.
“Damn you, Alejandro!” she rasped. “I have just thrown myself at your feet. Don’t you feel anything?”
“Of course! My heart is breaking. I am sorry to disappoint you, Nicolette, but I have disciplined myself all my life through the most excruciating pain. I don’t know how to be any other way. Your disappointment will never be as great as mine.” He caressed her cheek. “A moment of ecstasy has the illusion of love, but it is not real. Believe me, I have tried this enough to know. One night of lust is not love. Love is thinking of the other person more than oneself.”
“I want you to want me so much you can’t see straight. I want you to want me so much you cannot think of any of your lectures and sermons!”
“Answer me, Nicolette.” He took her by the shoulders, and she almost quaked under the strength of his voice. “Someday you will wish to marry. How could you marry after this? I could marry, but you could not. You know it to be true. Can you not see beyond today?”
The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 31