Seduced by the Stranger

by Allison Gatta

"I thought your father had told you." She tittered a laugh. "My mistake. We have affairs to attend to."

  "And where might those be?" Anyone's tone was light, but there was no mistake his edge of irritation.

  "Best let your father explain all that." Maria craned around, then flapped her hand at her husband. "Here he comes now. I'll, well, I'll leave you to it." She shot a smile at Antone's sisters, neither of whom returned it, and then practically sprinted for the crab puffs.

  "Antone--" Tess started, but the look on her husband's face made her fall silent. He had eyes for none but the slender, elderly man making his way toward them. A plain, golden circlet rested on his steely hair, and unlike his wife, he betrayed no sign of pleasure at seeing his son.

  When he at last stopped in front of them, Antone bowed and Tess followed his lead, sinking into a deep curtsy. If the king appreciated the formality, he made no effort to show it.

  At first, he spoke in Italian, but Antone pulled Tess close to him, nodding toward her.

  "If you would please speak English. Tess cannot understand you."

  The king nodded. "It would seem congratulations are in order." He glanced from Tess to her stomach and then back at his son, giving the general effect of dumping cold water over what little joy there was in the room. "Lovely ceremony."

  "Thank you." Antone nodded curtly. "I hear you won't be able to stay. I wonder if I might speak with you privately?"

  "I don't think that is necessary."

  "Don't you?" Antone shot back, then, glancing at Tess, he said, "Why don't you go get something to eat?"

  "But I..." She started, and again his gaze took the words from her mouth. At her side, someone's arm looped around her own, and Regianna said, "I'm dying to get my hands on some cake. Think they have extra in the kitchen?"

  Reluctantly, she allowed Regianna to drag her away, and she listened patiently as Regianna explained the details of her recent travels, answered politely as Regianna asked her about herself, and laughed at all the right times when someone around them made a joke.

  Still, as the evening wore on, she continued to search her surroundings, desperate for some glimpse of her husband, some clue that everything had worked out and that he might take her aside and tell her what was going on. But it was pointless. She was shuffled from one circle to another, forced to ask questions and make polite acquaintances while accepting congratulations and praise of her own.

  Then, two hours after he'd banished her, she caught sight of him. He was on the patio, alone with Luca, a cigar in his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat, and gently she placed her hand on her sister-in-law's bicep and murmured, "If you would excuse me."

  Though Regianna looked momentary taken aback, she nodded and said, "Of course," and it wasn't until Tess was halfway toward her husband that she realized what she'd done.

  It was her mother's patented move. The same one her sister had inherited.

  Glancing behind her, she found Regianna still standing in the place where Tess had left her--five paces from the bar. Just close enough to be convenient, but not close enough to draw attention.

  A little shock of horror rolled over her, but she pushed past it, desperate to get to Antone before someone else took him away from her again.

  "He cannot do this to me," Antone said, more to himself than to Luca.

  He stared out the wide balcony at the crashing waves beyond, taking another deep pull of his cigar. He should have figured this would happen. That this one day that was supposed to be about love and the creation of a new family would become yet another reminder of the shackles he'd been born into. His father would have it no other way.

  "A few other dignitaries wish to speak with you. We still have a few months to prepare before...before we must announce the king's decision," Luca said, lightly. "Perhaps it's better to enjoy your wedding night as you would have done before?"

  Antone shook his head. "Tess is mingling, isn't she?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "Very well, then,"Antone snapped, ashing his cigar lightly before taking another puff.

  "Well, if it isn't the man of the hour. Tell me, do you hide on the deck at every party you attend?" Tess' voice, light and sweet, filled the air behind him and he closed his eyes, willing himself to turn around and face her.

  Careful to blow his smoke away from her, he turned and caught her smiling up at him, her pearly white dress complimenting her elaborate brown curls. It was like a bizarro version of their first night together--she was more beautiful than ever, even more attractive to him than she had been on that first night, but this time he was the one who didn't know where to start. He was the one who needed to escape from everything and everyone inside.

  How can I tell her?

  She was only just beginning to accept the fact of her own political position, of her role as his wife, and as a mother.

  Could he ruin her wedding night, too? Force her to take on even more responsibility? An even heavier burden?

  After setting his cigar in an ashtray nearby, he swept toward her and took each of her hand in his, kissing her on both her cheeks as she wrinkled her nose.

  "You smell like smoke," she said.

  "My apologies. Maybe if you went back inside, it might give me a chance to air out--"

  She shook her head. "I've had enough of being inside. I want to spend my wedding night with my husband. Tell me, what's been going on?"

  "Why don't you tell me about your evening instead?" he countered, a little too quickly.

  She blinked, but pressed on, shrugging. "Nothing to report. Regianna is nice. She's been introducing me to everyone."

  Antone nodded. Regianna would do that. She was sweet and helpful and... had she known? Had both of his sisters known what his father had to tell him?

  He shook his head. "I'm glad."

  "I have to tell you, though, I think people expect to see us together. Maybe if we--"

  "No. They know what a royal marriage is like. Seeing bride and groom in one place at one time is like the holy grail."

  The faint smile on Tess' lips disappeared. "Right. Yeah, I guess so. So...Maybe we should just slip away? What do you think?" She nestled in a little closer. "We could hide in your room and--"

  "Tess. you have a duty, now. You can't think of shirking them that way." His tone was sharp, though he knew the words were for himself, not her. Because the truth of the matter? There was nothing he wanted more than to hide away with her, go back to their week alone in bed, sharing each other and living for their little jokes and stories.

  But that was gone now. Gone so much sooner than he'd expected.

  "I don't get it. Why--?" she started, but he stepped away from her, dropping her hands as he moved back toward the edge of the balcony.

  "You don't need to understand. Just go and do your job. Entertain your guests and play the part. When you're wanted, I'll send for you."

  "When I'm wanted." Tess nodded. "Right. I understand."

  He should have reached for her then, pulled her back and told her that they could run away together and never look back, but he knew that was just as unlikely as everything else. His life had only one path now, and Tess would be there for it whether she liked it or not.

  For the rest of the evening, he met with dignitaries one by one, nodding and playing his cards close to his chest until at last the final bell rang and their guests began to make their departures. The music ebbed away into nothing, and when he reentered the ballroom, it was to find his sisters huddled together at the long head table, whispering to one and other as they nodded and waved to the few stragglers who remained.

  "Where is my wife?" he asked them and they both stared up at him with blank, impassive faces.

  "Well?" he prompted. "Was it not your responsibility to care for her and ensure she met all the--"

  "We looked after her, but we are not her wardens. She went to bed hours ago," Regianna said.

  "What is wrong with you?" Ellaria cut in. "You're acting like someone has--"
>
  "Nevermind. Please see to it that everything is managed and everyone is escorted out."

  Ellaria shot Luca a questioning look, but Antone didn't have time to see if Luca would be her ally on this one. He marched from the hall, stopping for nothing and no one until he reached his room. It was empty.

  "Of course," he scoffed, then made off again, until he came to Tess' room. Not bothering to knock, he banged the door open and pivoted to find her sitting up in bed, her phone in her lap.

  "What were you thinking leaving early? You have a duty--"

  "I wasn't sent for, so I clearly was not wanted."

  He scowled. "How dare you be so petty. There are more important things--"

  "There aren't. Look, I can only be your show pony for so long. I can only--"

  "You can do your duty and you will like it." He didn't know why he was yelling, but he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. Not until all his frustration and rage had been vented. Not until what had happened tonight was over, erased.

  Her full mouth contorted into a thin, wavering line. "I do have a duty. As a human being and as a mother. Those are my first duties and my most important ones."

  "And as a wife? As a--" he choked on the word. "A princess?"

  "I did my duty. If that wasn't enough for you, then you can go back to treating me like your prisoner. See if I care. It's already what I am."

  "Again with the dramatics," he spat.

  "I am, though. I am your prisoner. You won't let me in and I can't get out. If this marriage is just going to be some sham where you won't tell me what's going on and you roll me out for state functions, then so be it, but I won't pretend it's anything more. I won't pretend that that makes me your wife and I certainly won't share your bed."

  "And that's how it is, is it? You are impatient and selfish and consider it your right to remain so?"

  She opened her mouth, then closed it, and though he knew his words had been harsh, he wasn't going to take them back. How dare she assume she knew what it was to walk in his shoes and bear the weight of his responsibility? How dare she presume to understand what it was to be him?

  "You were raised with all the polish of wealth and none of the weight. If I shared my burdens with you, you would have no idea what to do with them. You are not--"

  "Get out," she said, so calmly and quietly that he wasn't sure he'd heard her right.

  "You are--"

  "Get. Out." This time, though the words were still calm, there was no doubting what she'd said. "Maybe you're the one in charge of everyone else, but tonight I'm calling the shots. I don't want you here. I don't want to hear what you have to say. Get. Out. I'll summon you when you're wanted," she said, her eyes narrowed to slits.

  He nodded. "So be it."

  And, fuming, he slammed her bedroom door behind him.

  14

  When someone knocked on Tess' bedroom door the next day, she didn't even bother to say anything. Instead, she waited, listened as they knocked again, and then watched as a servant girl pushed open the door and left a silver tray, laden with food and tea, on her dresser.

  Though the girl glanced at her, something in Tess' expression must have told her not to say a word, and when she slipped from the room, Tess listened as her footfalls faded into silence.

  She wouldn't touch the food--just like she hadn't gone near the one they'd left for breakfast and lunch. Still, the smell of roast beef and potatoes consumed her, and she twisted in her bed, trying to force herself to fall back asleep.

  Antone had not come to visit. He hadn't asked why she never came to his quarters for bed the night before, and--if she had to guess--she thought he wouldn't be stopping by to ask about tonight either. No, he was probably pacing his study, too full of political strategies to bother thinking about her or the fight they'd had. Of what this would mean for their relationship.

  But that was what she had wanted, wasn't it? Hadn't this always been the plan? That he would have his life and she would have her own? That they would be partners in raising their child, but in no other capacity?

  And wasn't that what she'd told him? Hadn't she said she didn't want him to come, didn't want him to ask after her--that she would let him know when he was wanted.

  She swallowed hard, picking up her phone to flick through the articles that had already been published about the wedding. As far as she could tell, her gown and demeanor had been well-received, though a few journalists still speculated about her barely-there baby bump, and even if still more of those journalists printed her wedding photo alongside a picture of her sitting with Laurence Halpern in that restaurant all those years ago, it was always alongside a mention of how far she had come.

  Tess sucked in her cheeks and flicked to yet another article when her phone began to buzz in her hand. She jumped, glancing down at the name, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over her when her mother's face flashed on the screen.

  She'd gotten pregnant, gotten married, and left the country, and still had not said a word to her family about it. In the grand scheme of sisters and children, she was pretty close to the bottom in terms of responsibility and consideration.

  Still, she doubted anything her mother had to say would make her feel any worse than she already felt. Not now.

  Taking a deep breath, she thumbed the green "answer" button and her mother's taut, supernaturally clear face filled the screen. In the corner, Tess could see herself, her hair frizzed and tiny, purple bags under her eyes, and she straightened, trying to assume a position that didn't give away her utter misery.

  "Tess, sweetie," Her mother sing-singed and Tess tried not to betray her confusion.

  "Hi, mom."

  "Guess who's with me." Her mother tilted her camera and regret hit her like a punch to the stomach as her perfectly coiffed sister came into view.

  Lydia waved, grinning just as broadly as her mother. "Hi, Tess! We thought you'd never call."

  "Well, technically, I didn't," she started, but, thinking that might not be the best tactic, she changed the subject. "So, um, how are you all?"

  "Us? We're the same as ever. You are the one who has all the news."

  Heat rose in Tess' cheeks. Here it came. The stiff smiles would stay in place, but there was no doubt the speech was coming--the disappointment, the chastising.

  "Right. I guess you guys heard about...everything," she finished lamely.

  "Heard? It's everywhere. You're America's Cinderella." Her mother chirped and Lydia nodded behind her.

  "Right," Tess said, her heart still in her throat.

  "I don't understand why you would keep this all secret from us, though," her mother said.

  Lydia shrugged. "I think it's romantic. I have to say, when I called you that day and you asked about the prince, I never dreamed..." She laughed. "Well, I guess it was meant to be, huh?"

  Tess blinked. "So...you guys aren't mad?"

  Her mother tried to frown, but her perfectly taut skin fought against it. "Why would we be? I mean, I would have liked to see you married, but there's no doubt you married well. I mean I never would have dreamed..." She shook her head.

  "And the stuff about the baby bump? Did...did you see all of that?"

  This time it was Lydia's turn to frown. "I did. People can be so ugly. I mean, you've always had a little pooch, you know, but--"

  "It's true. I'm...Antone and I are pregnant." The words came out in a rush and Tess' mother clapped a hand over her mouth. A moment later, Lydia mimicked her.

  "Look, I know you're disappointed in me and it wasn't supposed to go this way, but--"

  "How far along are you?" Lydia said, finding her voice.

  "Two months," Tess said, and her mother and sister looked at each other for a moment before they both burst into laughter.

  "What's so funny? Am I missing something?" Tess asked.

  "No, no, I mean...It's just so perfect. You just say the baby was premature, that's all," her mother said.

  Lydia nodded. "Public sympathy for you will skyrock
et. People love to support people in crisis. And if you're not actually in crisis? Well," Lydia shrugged. "So much the better."

  "But..." Tess choked.

  "I should really be thanking you. All this press has helped me tremendously, and then once people find out you're going to have a little prince or princess?" Lydia beamed.

  "A prince or princess!" This time their mother practically shrieked. "Wait until I tell your father. Depending on how this next election goes, this whole thing could put him in the running for Secretary of State."

  Tess blinked. Was it possible she'd heard them right? They weren't disappointed or mad or...anything?

  "That would be great," she said, but her words sounded hollow, even to herself. Not that Lydia or her mother noticed. They were too busy squealing over their good fortune.

  She wondered, vaguely, if she should be upset by this. If their opportunistic attitude should have annoyed her. If she should be disappointed that her mother had not asked about her pregnant child's health or, god forbid, asked what her child's new spouse was like.

  Maybe it should have, but the truth of the matter was that it didn't. Not really.

  When she clicked off the phone, she didn't even feel relieved that her family wasn't upset with her. She felt...nothing. Hollow.

  Was that what politics were? Not caring about family so long as it furthered your agenda? Antone had consigned Ellaria to a marriage she didn't want for the sake of politics, hadn't he?

  But that was Ellaria's choice. She'd said as much.

  And Antone...well, he'd left his duties to be with her that day with the doctor. He'd even made sure the press wouldn't ruin their wedding day for her. He'd championed her in spite of all the damage she could have done to his career.

  Sinking deeper into her bed, she pulled a sheet tight over herself, thinking of how different this bed felt compared with Antone's. Missing, in spite of everything, the warmth and security of his body beside hers.

  Whatever happened next, however all this turned out, there was no way of turning back the tide. She would never have a child who wore overalls and drew on the walls. There would be no informal play dates or peanut butter sandwiches.