Be My Prince (18 page)

“I have not forgotten it,” he said. “I also remember why you changed your mind.”

“Because I was under the impression you were a scoundrel,” she reminded him. “Which was not incorrect. Your brother, Nicholas, is such a man, and I thought you were him.”

His eyes held no humor, but the touch of his hand was wildly seductive. His hot breath in her ear made her knees go weak. “But I am not him. I am simply a man who was seeking a wife, and I have found one. So I would like to put the rest of this behind us, Alexandra, and begin anew. Can we do that?”

She took a deep breath and swallowed over the flood of emotions that were too complicated to understand, because she longed for the pleasure of his touch and wanted this marriage to succeed, but she did not believe he truly loved or trusted her. A new beginning would not necessarily be a happy one.

“Of course,” she replied nevertheless. “There is nothing I want more than to be your wife, and I will do everything in my power to earn back your trust.”
And the fiery heat of your passions.

He let his hand drop to his side and stepped back.

The ship lifted, shifted to the side, and sank down on an unexpected swell next to the dock, and Alexandra reached out to grab onto something.

Before she could secure her balance, Randolph was at her side, steadying her against the unpredictable movement of the ship.

“You’ll grow accustomed to it,” he said.

“I certainly hope so. We haven’t even left shore yet.”

She thought she saw a flash of something in his eyes—was it desire?—but again, he backed away from her.

The ship creaked and groaned.

“Seven o’clock in the captain’s quarters,” he confirmed.

“I will be there. Not a moment late.”

With that, he bowed, and she responded with a quick curtsy as he left.

The cabin seemed very quiet after he was gone, but her blood was pumping hotly in her veins.

She picked up the pillow and threw it at the door.

*   *   *

The captain’s quarters were located at the ship’s stern, with a row of paned windows that let in the pink glow of the sunset.

Unfortunately, the pretty horizon rose and fell with each volatile swell of the sea, which was why Lucille had been green as a bullfrog since the moment they left the dock. She was a good soldier, however, and had remained at her post to help Alexandra dress for her wedding and escort her through the narrow passageways of the ship for the ceremony.

As they entered the captain’s cabin, Alexandra gave a nod to Mr. Carmichael, who stood before a glass-fronted bookcase containing a collection of rolled maps. He raised his stemmed sherry glass to greet them.

Her eyes then fell upon her future husband.

He was silhouetted against the glow of the sunset in the window, but she could nevertheless make out that he was dressed in his scarlet royal regalia, with a saber sheathed at his waist.

It was the first time she had seen him dressed as the true Prince of Petersbourg, and her heart beat violently with sexual exhilaration. Despite everything, he was still the most handsome man she had ever encountered. Even that first night on the terrace, when he smelled of brandy and horses and wore muddy boots, she had found him excruciatingly attractive. All she wanted to do was marry him and make love to him.

His brother, Nicholas, stood beside him. Princess Rose startled her by approaching from behind the door.

“Welcome,” Rose said, addressing them both. “Please come in.”

Randolph crossed to meet them. Effectively hiding all manner of conflict that existed between them, he took Alexandra’s hand and kissed it. “You have come at last,” he said with an appropriate measure of charm. “Shall we begin?”

“Of course.” She, too, willed herself to bury her scandalous desires and all their political differences for the time being, and allowed him to escort her to the far side of the cabin, where the priest stood next to the captain in front of the upholstered window bench. The setting sun shone brightly upon their faces, and the sacred ceremony began.…

Chapter Twenty

It hardly seemed possible that Alexandra had just wed a future king. The ceremony had been a quiet affair with few witnesses other than family.

Presently, she was sitting up against the pillows in bed in her cabin, wearing a white nightdress and a matching silk robe, waiting for her husband to come and consummate the marriage—though one could argue that that particular deed had already been accomplished.

It would be different this time, however. They were now man and wife. He would likely make every effort to produce an heir, whereas last time he had exercised great restraint.

There would be other differences as well. Last time he had wanted her with unbridled passion. This time he would be guarded, perhaps even antagonistic toward her.

She had no idea what to expect, but of this she was certain: It would be an act of duty, not passion. At least on his side. For her part, she was already shamelessly aroused and brimming with desire. Her heart was beating at a feverish pace at the mere thought of being touched by him again.

The latch on the door lifted just then, and her husband walked in carrying a lantern. He was still wearing his scarlet regalia.

“My apologies,” he said, hooking the lamp on a peg on an overhead beam. “It was not my intention to keep you waiting so long, but the captain was feeling gregarious. It isn’t often he hosts a royal wedding.”

Working hard to calm her nerves, Alexandra tossed the covers aside and rose from the bed. Her bare feet padded softly across the plank floor.

“No apologies are necessary,” she replied. “You are here now. That is all that matters. Let me help you remove your sword.”

Staggering slightly from the movement of the ship, she braced her feet on the floor, then unbuckled his sword belt and set it on top of a chair. She then returned to unbutton his jacket.

He said nothing while she freed each shiny brass button from the hold. All the while, his eyes held hers with an intense scrutiny that caused a rush of uncertainty in her mind.

Was he truly dreading this sexual act with her now that he knew her true identity? Or did he long for it, as she did? Was his body aching for it? If not, could she make it so? For she herself had every intention of enjoying it.

The lantern swung back and forth on the peg, throwing shadows across the walls.

“You are nervous,” Rand said, watching her expression. The last button came free, and she slid the jacket off his shoulders, folded it, and set it on the trunk next to his scabbard. “Your hands are trembling,” he added, “and you haven’t looked me in the eye since the moment I walked in.”

“Well…”

The ship took a sudden dip into the trough of a wave and she was tossed forward. “I am a bride on her wedding night,” she explained, grabbing onto his shoulders to steady herself. “Is it not my duty to be nervous?”

Letting go of him, she stepped back.

He began to untie his cravat. “Is that all that exists between us now? Duty?”

Alexandra wet her lips and spoke without reserve. “I could ask the same of you, Randolph. In fact, I am quite curious to know your answer.”

He carelessly tossed the neckcloth onto the trunk, pulled his shirt off over his head, and dropped it onto the floor.

At the sight of his smooth, muscled chest she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. He stood before her like a gorgeous Greek god, naked from the waist up, regarding her with clear purpose and resolve.

“You are my wife now,” he said, “and when I make love to you—which, I warn you, I will do often—I assure you that duty will be the last thing on my mind. And yours as well.”

It was exactly what she wanted to hear.

“Very well then,” she replied as he moved closer and set his hands on the curve of her hips, then slid them around to the small of her back and pulled her tight up against him.

Her body exploded with licking flames of fire, and she was not sorry that he seemed disinterested in any further discussion, for she did not wish to talk either. What was there to say after all? They were at an impasse in terms of their trust in each other, and their future as a married couple was still very uncertain and would remain so until they reached Petersbourg and determined the lay of the land. Perhaps there would be a public outcry. Or his father, the king, might demand an annulment on the grounds of fraud and deception. Why not just let go of all that and enjoy this?

Smoothly Randolph shifted his hips to settle more firmly against hers and covered her mouth in a fierce kiss that shocked and delighted her with its carnality.

This was nothing like the kisses they shared before. It was less tender, less tentative, but she relished it, for it stirred her blood like nothing else.

Sliding her hands up the length of his bare arms from wrist to shoulder, she hooked them around the nape of his neck and tilted her head to the side to gain better access to the lush, damp heat of his mouth.

Groaning passionately, he bent forward, scooped her up into his arms, and carried her to the bed. He set her down gently and removed his boots, unfastened his trousers, slipped them off, and came down upon her while the waves outside roared against the wooden hull of the ship.

She gasped at the sensation of his nude body, heavy upon hers. It was all happening so quickly.…

The ship rose and fell on the swells beneath them, and her body hummed with yearning. He was her husband now, and he did not ask for permission to take her, nor did he attempt to fight or suppress his sexual urges. He was driving forward like a galloping stallion, devouring her with his stroking hands and hungry mouth, proving to her that he did indeed want this. At least physically.

He caressed her breasts and slid his hand down over her hip and up under her nightdress, then tugged the white linen fabric up around her waist.

She, too, was eager for consummation. She had thought of little else since their coupling in the drawing room at St. James’s. Her blood pounded through her veins in a feverish rush of desire that baffled her with its power.

When at last his hand found the damp, tingling center between her thighs she wanted nothing but the final joining of their bodies.

But even while she basked in the pleasure of his fingers probing the sensitive regions of her womanhood, she wanted something more. Something beyond the pleasure of this moment, for something was missing.…

Oh, how she wanted to regain the connection they once shared. She had no idea if that was possible.

“Take me now,” she breathlessly pleaded in a desperate effort to salvage what was lost, her words caught in the intimate heat of their joined lips.

His tongue delved into her open mouth while his hips shifted and searched. He found success quickly, and slid into her without preliminaries, for she was slick with dampness and wide open with trembling desire.

Randolph shut his eyes and touched his forehead to hers as he worked in and out of her.

It was so much easier than last time. There were no barriers. No pain—only the sweet meeting of desire with fulfillment.

He pushed hard and fast, and she met each powerful thrust with one of her own.

Then the world spun circles before her eyes as he cupped her bottom and flipped everything over topside. All at once, she was sitting upright, searching for her bearings, as he guided her up and down over his glorious manhood.

“You are mine now,” he said, pulsing his hips, “and God help you if you ever betray me.”

“Do not speak of such things,” she said with a frown. “Not now.”

Leaning forward, she kissed him with ravenous hunger to keep him from repeating such a thing. He pushed hard and deep, and she choked back a cry of shuddering rapture. Wild sensation flooded through her from core to limb, and she collapsed weakly upon him.

He continued to slowly pulse, however, and turned her over onto her back, making sweet, slow love to her while he braced himself on both arms above.

Alexandra watched his expression in the flickering lamplight. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a low groan of need as his body tensed and drove into her. She let her hands slide to the firm bands of muscle on his back and pulled him deeper inside until he growled and convulsed and finally shot his seed into her womb.

For a long moment afterward they lay together on the bed while the ship rose up and slid down into the waves. Alex could feel his heart beating against hers and reveled in the sensation while she ran the tip of her finger lightly up and down the damp, warm flesh of his back.

It was odd how her body felt satisfied while, deeper inside, she was not yet fulfilled …

In that moment, he lifted his head and rolled off her onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, then sat up and gripped the edge of the bunk.

A knot of dread formed in Alex’s stomach. She sat up as well. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and didn’t reply for the longest time. Then at last he spoke. “I don’t know how this is going to work.”

Oh, God.…

She sat up on the bed. “I don’t know either, but somehow it will. We managed to get through today, didn’t we?”

He stood up—naked and gorgeous in the swinging lamplight—and pulled on his trousers. The ship creaked and groaned beneath them. “I can’t be here now,” he said. “I should go.”

“Why? There’s no hurry. It’s our wedding night, and I thought we both found pleasure just now.”

“That is precisely the problem,” he explained as he bent to pick up his shirt. “I burn for you, Alex. I want you in my bed every second of the day, and there are moments I want to throw my whole heart and soul into yours.”

She drew back in shock. It was not what she had expected to hear.

“But I also know that would be a foolish and unwise thing to do,” he continued, “because I don’t trust you. Not one little bit.”

Her heart sank while she marveled over the fact that she did not feel the same way at all—for she trusted
him.
Since the first moment they met, she had trusted him enough to fall completely, foolishly, hopelessly in love. She would even have gone so far as to elope with him if her stepmother had not stopped her at the door.