"His mother spent much of her time there when he was a child. She planted most of the garden by hand."
"I see," Tess said. "Do you think he would be there now?"
"I think, princess, there is only one way to find out."
"Cesar--" Antone tried to reason with the man on the other end of the phone, but he was speaking in such rapid-fire Italian that it was nearly impossible to get a word in edgewise.
"Cesar, please," he tried again, then sat down on the garden bench and glanced up at the sky.
The moon was full tonight, and the stars were shining so brightly that there was a glow in the dark sky. It should have been a beautiful night, the perfect time to walk the gardens, relax, and think over his situation. As it was, though--
"I feel that you are not listening to me." Cesar's voice rang through in English as he finished his long line of Italian profanities.
"I am listening. What would you have me do?"
"I would have you consider that you are the crown prince of this nation."
"And as such, it is not my place to wrangle the king," he shot back, though he rubbed his brow with one hand. Would that it were his job to manage his father's affairs. Then, maybe, he wouldn't receive such regular midnight phone calls. Maybe he'd even be able to get a decent night's sleep without having to get up at three in the morning and sneak into his father’s office to ensure the day would be filled with work instead of whatever new games he had planned with his blushing bride.
It hadn't always been like this. Ruefully, he thought of the days when his father would wake him at four in the morning to review his schedule, to show him the importance of running a kingdom with grace and precision. When his mother had been alive, his father had been the sort of king any kingdom could wish for. He was stern, but fair. Always two steps ahead of what was needed. Always bettering the lives of his people.
But then, one very dark and cold December, his mother had passed, and everything had changed.
His father was a broken man. Despondent, uncaring. Everything reminded him of her. The people reminded him of her vigils. His children reminded him of her warmth.
Antone didn't have to ask to know the truth of it. Without his mother, his father saw no reason to continue.
So he hadn't.
He'd begun waking when it suited him. Taking his meals alone. Spending his days with one woman or another to fill the void until finally a new, pretty thing came along to divert him. Within a year of his wife's death, he was already remarried and living the life of a honeymooner.
And Antone?
He was left to pick up the pieces.
"Your highness--" Cesar's rough voice cut into his thoughts and Antone blinked.
"Fine, fine. E-mail me your paperwork and I will handle the situation myself."
"This is a matter for the king, your grace. If you could--"
"I said I will handle it," he barked, then clicked the phone off and leaned back in the bench seat.
By the looks of it, it would be another long night filled with paperwork and planning.
He glanced at a rose bush beside him and plucked one of the bright pink blooms from the vine, staring at it for a long moment and remembering the day his mother had planted them.
"You will be king one day and all of this will be yours." He'd been five then. Only a child and already reminded of the burden he would bear.
Where his father had made it sound like a job and a duty, though, his mother had made it sound like an honor. Something only he could do.
"You must care for the people like this rose bush." She sank the roots into the dirt, then swept the loose ground around to cover it. "You must anticipate their needs. Tend to them carefully. Prune certain aspects of their governing so they can continue to grow and prosper. Understand how to handle them so you are not pricked by their thorns."
He squared his jaw. He'd never bothered to ask her what she'd meant. He'd simply taken in what she'd said and carried on with his day.
But it all made sense now.
A rustling sounded from a few feet away and he glanced up to find Tess standing in front of him, a pretty lavender chiffon dress highlighting her frame. He should have been surprised to see her here, but he wasn't. He'd known, somehow, that a woman like her would not allow his [sanctuary] to go on forever.
It was just as well, though. Her dark hair swayed in the wind and he swallowed to keep from telling her exactly how beautiful she looked tonight. Like a queen.
Briefly, he wondered what she'd look like when she began to fill out and swell with the child inside her. Only more beautiful, probably. Even more exquisite.
"You've come to tell me you intend to leave again?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
Surprise flicked across her pretty features, but then she relaxed. Almost smiled. Almost.
"Not this time," she said, and crossed the space between them to join him on the bench.
The moment she sat down, the smell of lavender swirled in the air around him, and he wanted to lean closer. Wanted to remember what it was like to taste her skin.
But he didn't. He simply sat there, waiting for whatever bombshell she was about to drop on him.
"Who was on the phone?" she asked.
He blinked, unsure he'd heard her right.
"You heard that?"
"Well...you sort of yelled." She shrugged. "This place echoes."
"Of course it does." He pursed his lips. "It was no one. Nothing to concern yourself with."
"I need to concern myself with something. Maybe you're cool with this Quasimodo routine, but I'm going crazy. I only have your sister for company, and I don't know if you know this, but she's not exactly warm and fuzzy."
Antone laughed. "So you've come to lodge a complaint? Is that it?"
"I've come to see if you'll at least meet me half way. I've had a lot of time to think about this. And I mean like dizzying amounts of time. I just think..." She sighed. "We're raising a child together. I want to know who you are. I'm going to these princess lessons and dealing with the whole growing a person inside of me thing. Do you think you could at least try to have dinner with me or something?"
He considered her for a moment, thinking over all the nights he'd glanced up at the clock and wondered what she was doing. All the times he'd wanted to leave his desk and join her in the dining hall.
Before he had a chance to say anything, though, she went on.
"I know you may be...entertaining other guests." She tilted her head to the side. "But I'm still the mother of your child."
"Entertaining other guests?"
"Look, I'm not stupid, but the fact is that it's none of my business who warms your bed at night. All I'm asking--"
"You are of the impression I would do that?"
"I just thought--"
"Tess. You are my woman. You are carrying my child. Whatever issues we may face, I would never dishonor you by bringing another woman into my bed."
"But you said--"
"I know what I said. The truth is...I like to see you blush." He offered her a wry smile and she returned it, though the reluctance was clear on her face.
"I wouldn't have expected that from you," she said.
"I am not all bad." He handed her the rose he'd plucked from the bush and she stared down at it for a moment before turning to face him again.
"I guess I've never had the chance to find out." She raised the flower to her nose and breathed long and deep. Then, with her mouth tilted to the side, she said, "Well, that sounded like an important call. I don't want to keep you."
He blinked at her, unsure what to do. He wanted her to stay. Wanted to ask her to come back to his quarters so he could show her exactly how considerate a man he could be. But he knew their agreement, and he was a man of his word.
So, with a heavy heart, he nodded and said. "Yes. Well, good night then."
"Good night." She rose and he watched as she strolled back to the castle gates, her long hair swaying behind her as she wa
lked.
9
After breakfast, Tess slid from the table and glanced around the hall, wondering if she should wait another minute or two before leaving.
Maybe, if she stayed, Antone might come down for his own meal. Maybe then...
She shook her head. She wasn't sure what it was she wanted out of seeing him, but she wasn't about to grasp for more than he was willing to give. Frankly, it'd be a miracle if the man so much as showed up for dinner tonight like he'd promised.
Or had he promised?
Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember what he'd said in the garden last night, she could only recall the intense look of concentration he'd fixed on her when she'd been speaking. Then, the gentleness in his eyes as he'd handed over the flower. This morning, though it wilted slightly, she'd fixed it in her hair. Ellaria would hate it, no doubt, but she was beginning to learn that there wasn't much Ellaria didn't hate. At least where she was concerned, anyway.
Then again, Tess was pretty sure she could understand why. Ever since she'd found out about the arranged marriage, she'd wanted to ask the other woman about it, to get some sense of her feelings, but it felt like whenever Tess opened her mouth to speak, Ellaria was already talking over her, moving on to one subject or another where Tess had been failing completely.
Slowly, she made her way down the hall and braced herself for another day of jibes and criticisms. Numb as she'd grown to the little digs, she still sometimes needed to remind herself that the other woman would be her child's aunt and, therefore, could not fall victim to some horrible decorum-related accident.
Closing her eyes, Tess swung the door open, took a deep breath, and then coughed as it caught in her throat. She could hardly believe her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
Instead of Ellaria's foreboding, statuesque figure, Antone stood in front of the library's fireplace, apparently waiting for her. His broad shoulders were squared and he looked almost bored, like he wasn't fazed in the slightest by her reaction.
"I am here for your lesson," he said simply.
"Your sister couldn't handle me anymore?"
Antone smiled. "I'm letting her have the day off. Besides, I am better suited to today's lesson than she, I can promise you."
Tess raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Today we learn the traditional dance of our country. The Napoline Waltz."
"I see." She bit her bottom lip and glanced up at him with concern.
The last time she'd danced--in that stiff formal way that her parents loved so much, anyway--had been at her coming out party, and even then she'd had to wear sneakers under her dress to prevent herself from tripping or breaking some poor boy's toe with her heel.
"I'm guessing the queen can't get out of this one?" She asked, the sinking feeling in her stomach growing more pronounced with every passing moment.
"The queen leads the dance at all formal occasions."
"Of course she does." Tess sighed.
"Do not worry, you are going to be marvelous. It is not the same as a traditional waltz. The movements are more fluid, less boxy."
"Right."
"Come, let us begin." He set his phone on the end table between the two huge armchairs, then thumbed the screen. In an instant, a song began playing, slow and pretty--classical, but sultry. Like if a tango had mated with a waltz while having an affair with the marimba on the side.
"Okay." She took a step forward, but before she could do anything else, Antone had already swept her into his arms. Digging back for what little she could remember, she held out her arms in a frame and Antone smiled down at her.
"As I said, we are more fluid here. Release your arm."
She let them fall to her sides, and he traced the length of her bicep with one finger.
A chill shivered up her spine, and then he said, "This arm you will place on my waist as I place my hand on yours. Yes?"
She followed his instruction and swallowed hard as his big palm rested lightly on her hip. It wasn't a commanding touch, not yet, but it was enough to shoot awareness through her body to all the places she'd longed for him to touch. All the places he had already touched, she reminded herself.
"Now, the other hand you do not stick into the air, but you place it on my shoulder, near my neck. Like we are locked in some secret confidence." She did as he said, straining to reach his shoulder from where she stood.
"Perhaps I should have brought you heels," he offered.
'Not if you wanted to live through this," she shot back and he offered her another of his rare smiles.
"Yes. Well, I will do the same." He placed his hand on the place where her neck met her shoulder, and she struggled not to shiver under his touch.
Swallowing hard, she squared her shoulders and said, "Okay. So. Then the music starts."
"Then the music starts. I will lead you through the steps. They are much like the waltz, with a few variations."
"Okay." She nodded.
"Do you waltz?"
The question caught her off guard and she took a moment before answering. "Only when forced."
"You do not like to dance?" he asked.
"I've not been known to cut a rug, no." She looked away and dropped her hands form where they'd been positioned, though she couldn't help but to remain close to him.
Antone frowned. "I am...not familiar with this expression."
She blushed. "Don't worry about it. I'm just saying I'm...not a great dancer. Probably the worst, actually."
"You cannot be worse than my sister, Regianna. She has...how do you say--?"
"Two left feet?"
"Yes. Exactly. There is no worse dancer in the country. Once she hid in the kitchen for entire ball simply to avoid dancing. Of course, it didn't hurt that that was where they were keeping the dessert as well." He grinned, and Tess could feel the affection for his sister radiating off of him.
"She's not much like Ellaria, huh?"
"Not at all." He shook his head. "Ellaria has her positive qualities, even if you have not gotten to see them. She is strong and passionate. She would do anything for the people she loves. But Regianna." Another smile tugged at the corners of his lips and Tess couldn't help but to smile back. "Regina is the soul of sweetness. I will be very pleased for you to meet her."
"Yeah, I, I'll be happy to meet her too." She blinked, letting his words sink in. How had it never occurred to her that these people--Regianna, Ellaria, the king, they would all be her new family? Had she thought simply because they were royalty they weren't a unit, weren't connected?
She thought of her own family, then frowned. Maybe just because people were a family didn't automatically make them connected, though. Maybe this was something these siblings had worked toward. Something they'd been raised with.
Loyalty.
Would her child ever know what it was to have someone born to be on their side? Would he or she...
But she couldn't think about that. Wasn't it enough to stomach the idea of having one baby, let alone more? And if she did have more, wouldn't that mean she and Antone would need too...
Heat rose in her cheeks as she considered the not-at-all-horrible idea of being with Antone again. Ever since the night in the garden, knowing that his faithfulness belonged to her, she'd looked at him differently. Looked at him in a way what made heat and pride swell up in her chest whenever she looked at him.
"Anyway, I've distracted us. Shall we dance?" He took her in his arms again and commanded his phone to begin the next song. It began with a springy, soulful beat that would make anyone want to dance, whether they knew the moves or not.
"Now we're going to start with a basic box step," he said, and like a shot she began to lead, stepping out onto to land squarely on his foot.
He flashed her a smile. "Why am I not surprised you want to lead?"
She bit her bottom lip. "Sorry."
"Right. Now. Follow me as I count. One-"
She moved as he moved, by the time he'd got
ten to "three" she'd fallen into an easy rhythm with him.
"Now, this is where things get different." He tightened his hold on her waist, then pulled her in closer, until she was practically flush with his chest. All the while, they continued moving in their square, following the beats closely.
She held her breath, all too aware of the heat radiating off his body, of the way she wanted to take one more step and close the space between them. A surge of need ached between her thighs, and she swallowed hard, trying desperately not to think of whether or not he might feel the same way. If, when she closed the space between them, she might feel his own thick need pressing hard and hot against her.
Suddenly, without warning, he dipped her low and she followed his lead without thinking. She simply fell into his arms, trusting on his powerful arms to carry her weight as she lost herself in the music.
Now she wasn't thinking about how out of control her hair was, or what Ellaria thought of her. She wasn't even worried about what Antone thought of her.
There was only the music and the way they moved within it. He pulled her closed still, and she danced on her toes so they could be cheek to cheek, and then he gripped her harder still, commanding her body with him own. Moving her to his will.
Then, when she'd completely lost herself to the music, to him, it stopped.
She could hear her heart beating. Could feel the stillness in the air.
This was it. She didn't know what yet, but there was no doubt about it.
Something had happened and she was about to find out what.
Silence stretched between them for a long moment, but he held her still, convincing himself he was merely waiting for the next song to begin.
His heart beat faster as he stared down at her, and he spoke if only to fill the thick air between them. "You learn quickly."
"Funny, I've never heard that from your sister." She smiled up at him and he laughed as the next song began.
This one was darker than the last, more seductive, and as he took his lead, she followed seamlessly, matching him step for step until they were gliding across the floor, perfectly entwined.
Seduced by the Stranger Page 7