One Night with Prince Charming (12 page)

Pia felt a shiver of awareness chase down her spine. Was Hawk thinking their relationship would continue at least until Spring—well past Lucy's wedding?

“Perhaps,” she forced herself to equivocate, careful not to look at him. “Spring is my busy season for weddings, as you can well imagine.”

“Of course, only if you can fit me into your schedule,” Hawk teased.

She chanced a glance at him. He looked every inch the lord of the manor in a tweed jacket and wool trousers.

“I'm becoming quite busy these days thanks to you, as you well know,” she returned lightly. “I received a call just before we left New York from another friend of yours seeking a wedding coordinator.”

Hawk smiled. “I'm hurrying them all to the altar for your sake.”

“I'm surprised that you didn't spring for the ring and stage the proposal in this case.”

“If I could have, I would have,” he said with mock solemnity,
“but my expertise lies in locating wedding veils and saving flower bouquets from canine bridal attendants.”

Pia laughed, even as she silently acknowledged all of Hawk's help.

With the exception of Tamara's, the weddings that she'd coordinated this past summer had been ones that she'd been contracted for before the Marquess of Easterbridge had crashed Belinda's ill-fated ceremony. Since then, new business had come to her thanks mainly to Hawk.

She had a lot to thank him for, including arranging and paying for both their first-class tickets on a commercial flight from New York to London—though she knew in reality
that
had nothing to do with Lucy's wedding.

She and Hawk came to a stop near some elaborately shaped hedges, and he turned to face her.

He reached out and caressed the line of her jaw, a smile touching his lips.

Pia's senses awakened at his touch, even as time slowed and space narrowed, and her brain turned sluggish.

“D-don't tell me,” Pia said, her voice slightly breathless, “that romantic assignations in the gardens are de rigueur.”

“If only it wasn't November,” he murmured, his eyes crinkling. “Fortunately, there's a bed nearby.”

Pia heated as Hawk ducked his head and touched his lips to hers.

She knew the bed to which he was referring. She'd slept in it last night.

Hawk's bedchamber at Silderly Park was in an enormous suite, bigger than her apartment in New York. The suite was fronted by a sitting room, and the bedroom itself boasted a large four-poster bed, red-and-white wallpaper, and gold leaf detail on the molded ceiling.

Everything was fit for a duke.

Everything in Hawk's house, in fact, was out of a fairy tale. Including its owner, Pia thought whimsically.

It was easy to be enthralled, especially for a romantic such as herself…and Pia reminded herself again to keep her feet planted on the ground.

Hawk linked his hand with hers, and Pia allowed him to turn them back in the direction of the house.

Though it was a good fifteen minutes before they arrived at his suite, they snuggled and exchanged the occasional kiss along the way, heedless of whom they might encounter.

In his bedroom, Hawk looked into her eyes as he undressed her, slowly and tenderly, bringing tears to Pia's eyes.

They made love languorously, as if they had not a care in the world, but all the time.

Afterward, Pia lay in Hawk's arms, and sighed with contentment.

“We really have to stop doing this,” she remarked.

“What?” Hawk glanced down at her. “Making love in the afternoon?”

“Yes, it's decadent.”

“It's the only indulgence I'm allowed these days,” Hawk protested. “And my BlackBerry is beeping nearby.”

Pia lifted her head and smiled at him. “I'm not used to it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “This is beyond your realm of expertise?”

“Oh, Hawk, haven't you guessed?” she asked tentatively.

He stilled, searching her gaze.

“You're my first and only lover.” She paused, and then added, “Th-there hasn't been anyone else in the past three years.”

Hawk's brows drew together in puzzlement. “You're a desirable woman—”

Pia gave a small, self-conscious laugh, her heart bursting. “I-it wasn't for lack of opportunity, b-but by choice.”

Hawk shifted so he was looking down at her as she lay
back. “I don't understand. You've taken the initiative…unlike what I remembered.”

“Books and videos,” she answered succinctly. “I wanted to educate myself.”

So I'd never run the risk of losing you again to lack of experience.

Hawk said nothing for a moment, and Pia gave him a tentative smile.

Hawk's expression softened. “Ah, Pia.” He gave her a gentle kiss. “I'm honored.”

She arched into him, responding intuitively to his advance.

“So that's why you weren't on any protection when we were first intimate again that day after rock climbing,” he murmured.

Pia nodded. “There hadn't been any need.”

“That day, you said three years was a long time,” Hawk mused. “I thought you were referring to how long it had been since we'd last been together. But you meant since the last time you'd had sex, too, didn't you?”

Pia nodded again, and then her eyes crinkled. “Care to shorten the time between sex?”

Hawk gave a half groan, half laugh. “Ah, Pia. It's going to be difficult to keep up with you.”

She gave him a quick kiss, her look mischievous. “Your performance has been off the charts so far. I thought—”

“Minx.” He silenced her with a kiss.

And after that, neither of them got out of bed for a long while.

 

Hawk knew he was in too deep.

It was déjà vu. Except the first time he hadn't suspected that Pia was a virgin, and this time, he hadn't divined that she'd only ever had one lover.
Him.

He felt a rush of possessiveness. He hadn't liked thinking
of Pia with other men—learning things…things that
he
could teach her.

Blast it.

“What do you think, Hawk?”

Hawk met three pairs of expectant female eyes. His mother, his sister and Pia were sitting in the Green Room at Silderly Park discussing assorted wedding details. He'd assumed a position by the mantel, at a safe remove.

“What do you think about seating Baron Worling next to Princess Adelaide of Meznia at dinner?” his mother asked, repeating and elaborating her question.

Hawk knew there was some nuance that he should understand, otherwise his mother wouldn't have bothered asking. But for the life of him, he couldn't think what it was.

Was Baron Worling a poor conversationalist? Did Princess Adelaide believe the baron was beneath her notice? Or perhaps one of the baron's poor ancestors had dueled to the death with a member of Princess Adelaide's royal family?

Hawk shrugged and punted. “I'm sure whatever you decide will be fine.”

His mother looked nonplussed.

“What about placing the Crown Prince of Belagia on Princess Adelaide's left?” Pia suggested.

His mother brightened. “Splendid idea.”

Hawk shot Pia a grateful look.

She looked superb in a navy polka-dot dress and heels. The dress accentuated her bust without being over the top, so that she looked demure but professional.

Whether Pia knew it or not, Hawk reflected, she'd chosen exactly an outfit of which his mother, the Dowager Duchess of Hawkshire, would approve.

As the wedding conversation resumed, Hawk started idly plotting ways to be alone again with Pia.

Could he invent a phone call that required her immediate
attention and called her away? Or perhaps he could feign a pressing need for her to consult on his attire for the wedding day? He stifled a grin.

Yesterday they had gone horseback riding and he'd shown her the various natural and architectural wonders on his estate. He couldn't remember when he'd enjoyed playing tour guide more, though he had an understandable bit of pride in his ancestral estate and childhood home.

His mother glanced up and caught his eye, and Hawk returned her look blandly.

He wondered whether his mother suspected that there was more than a business relationship between him and Lucy's wedding planner, and decided to leave her to speculate. He and Pia had separate bedrooms, and they'd been discreet about their late-night rendezvous, even though Silderly Park was so large that it was unlikely they'd have attracted the attention of anyone while slipping in and out of each other's rooms.

The truth was, he was still trying to sort out his feelings and next steps as far as Pia was concerned. How could he articulate them for someone else when he himself didn't understand them?

He'd started out trying to make amends, true, but matters had gotten more complicated from there. He bore a large share of the responsibility for his current circumstances—mostly because he couldn't seem to help himself as far as Pia was concerned. He must have been absent that day in grade school when they taught everyone about keeping their hands to themselves.

He was Pia's first and
only
lover.

It was astounding. It was wonderful.

It also made him freeze, not knowing what to do.

For years, his code of conduct with respect to women was never to get too involved. It was the reason why he'd never been or wanted to be a woman's first lover—until Pia.

And while he still wasn't sure about many things, he did know that he didn't want to see Pia hurt again.

The butler entered, followed by a familiar-looking brunette.

Hawk watched as his mother brightened, and as recognition set in, he was struck with an impending sense of doom, even before the butler spoke.

“Miss Michelene Ward-Fombley has arrived.”

P
ia looked up as an attractive brunette walked into the room, and immediately and inexplicably sensed that something was wrong.

The Dowager Duchess of Hawkshire, however, rose gracefully from her seat on the settee, a smile wreathing her face. “Michelene, darling, how lovely of you to join us here.”

Michelene stepped forward, and the two women exchanged air kisses.

Pia glanced around the room, noticing that Lucy had a worried expression while Hawk was still as a rock by the mantel.

Following Lucy's lead, Pia rose from her seat as introductions were made.

“…and this is Miss Pia Lumley, who has been ever so helpful as Lucy's wedding coordinator,” the duchess said with a smile.

Pia shook hands with Michelene, whom she pegged as a
cool self-possessed blueblood. Though the other woman had said only a few words, Pia could tell that Michelene spoke Queen's English with a distinctive upper-class inflection.

Michelene looked over at the mantel.

“Hawk,” Michelene murmured, her voice low and sultry. Hawk?
Not Your Grace?
Pia frowned. Exactly what was the status of the relationship between Michelene and Hawk?

Pia knew that never in a million years—not even in the shower—could she imitate Michelene's smoky tone. She even stuttered during sex—for which she was self-conscious, though Hawk claimed to like it.

“Michelene,” Hawk acknowledged, remaining at his spot by the mantel. “How nice to see you. I wasn't made aware that you were coming today.”

Pia watched as Hawk threw his mother a meaningful look, which the dowager duchess returned with one—Pia could swear—of the cat who ate the canary. Score one for the dowager, it seemed.

“Did I not mention that Michelene was arriving early for Lucy's engagement party tomorrow?” the duchess said, raising her brows. “Oh, dear.”

Michelene gave a little laugh. “I hope it's no inconvenience.”

“Not at all. You are more than welcome here,” Hawk said smoothly, his eyes traveling from Michelene to his mother. “Silderly Park is large enough, of course, to accommodate the occasional unexpected guest.”

Whoever Michelene was, Pia thought, it was clear that she was close to the Carsdales.

Was she, in fact, a former lover of Hawk's? Pia tamped down the well of jealousy.

“We were just finishing up our discussion of the wedding,” the duchess said as she sat back down. “Won't you join us, Michelene?”

Pia and Lucy followed the duchess's lead in retaking their seats.

“Thank you,” Michelene said as she sat down as well. “I believe I would find listening to be vastly informative.” She smiled toward the side of the room where Hawk was standing. “There was a time when I imagined I'd enjoy becoming a wedding planner myself. Unfortunately, life had other plans, and I remained in the fashion business.”

Pia shifted uncomfortably. She wondered whether Hawk and Michelene had not only been lovers, but had come close to a walk down the aisle. Or perhaps Michelene had hoped for a marriage proposal that had never materialized, and Hawk had ended the relationship instead?

Pia mentally braked. She knew she was letting her imagination run away with her. She had no proof that Hawk and Michelene had even dated, let alone come close to marriage. And she was making an assumption that Hawk had ended any relationship between the two.

“Wh-what type of fashion?” Pia blurted, disconcerted by her thoughts.

A second later, she clamped her mouth shut. She was embarrassed by the sudden and unexpected appearance of her stutter. She must be more rattled than she realized.

Michelene looked at her keenly. “I'm a buyer for Harvey Nichols.”

Pia was familiar with the upmarket department store. She just wished she could afford more of their goods.

“It must be so interesting to be a wedding planner,” Michelene continued, hitting the ball back into Pia's court. “You must have some entertaining stories.”

This year more than others, Pia thought.

“I do enjoy the job very much,” she nevertheless responded honestly. “I love being part of one of the most significant days in a couple's life.”

Pia could feel Hawk's gaze on her, his expression thoughtful.

“Pia has been a great help,” Lucy put in with an encouraging smile.

“I see,” Michelene said. “I'll have to get your business card, Ms. Lumley—”

“It's Pia, please.”

“—just in case anyone I know is in need of the services of a wedding coordinator.”

Pia again got the sense there was a subtext to this conversation that she wasn't privy to.

Before she could say anything else, however, the butler appeared again to announce that Lucy's dressmaker—the one Pia knew had been commissioned to make a suitable confection for the engagement party—had arrived.

As the dressmaker was shown in, Pia cast a speculative look at Hawk's enigmatic expression.

She wondered if she'd be able to learn the subtext of today's conversation sooner rather than later. Because she
and
Hawk would no doubt be seeing Michelene again tomorrow at Lucy's engagement party.

 

Pia surveyed the glittering crowd from her position near one end of the long dining table, one of two that had been set up parallel to each other in the Great Hall.

There would be dinner and dancing for the engagement party tonight, as befitted a formal reception given by a dowager duchess, since Hawk's mother was playing hostess. The men wore tuxes, and the women gowns.

Lucy had dismissed all of tonight's pomp and circumstance as more of a to-do than the wedding itself would be. But she had conceded that her mother should have a free hand tonight if the dowager duchess was to have very little say over the wedding itself.

Pia had donned one of the two floor-length gowns that she
owned. The nature of her line of work required her to dress very formally on occasion.

She wore a lavender, one-shoulder, Grecian-style dress whose artfully draped fabric accentuated her bust and gave her the illusion of additional height. She'd bought the designer Marchesa gown at an Upper East Side consignment shop that was a favorite with the rich and fashionable who looked to retire their clothes at the end of the season.

As she cut into her remaining filet mignon—during a momentary lull in conversation with the guests seated to her right and left—she shot a surreptitious look down the middle of the table at Hawk.

He looked handsome and debonair as he chatted with the graying man to his left—a prince of some long-defunct kingdom, if she recalled correctly, who also happened to be distantly related to Derek, Lucy's fiancé.

She herself sat far away from Hawk, near one end of the table, as befitted her position as a less notable guest—an employee, really, and no more, in the dowager duchess's eyes.

She couldn't help but note that Michelene, on the other hand, had been seated diagonally across from Hawk—within speaking distance.

She wished she'd questioned Hawk about the other woman, but, truth be told, she'd been afraid of the answers. She hadn't wanted her suspicions confirmed that Michelene and Hawk had been more than friends at one point. And Hawk hadn't volunteered any information.

Pia patted her mouth with her napkin and took a sip of her wine.

As waiters began clearing plates from the table, Hawk rose and a hush fell over the room.

Pia kept her gaze on him, even though his own eyes traveled over the room, surveying the assembled guests.

Hawk said a few short words, thanking all the guests for
joining his family in tonight's celebration and regaling the crowd with a couple of amusing anecdotes about his sister and future brother-in-law. Then he toasted the happy couple and all the assembled guests joined in.

When he took his seat again, the dowager duchess rose from hers. She gave the engaged couple seated near her an indulgent smile. “I'm so very happy for Lucy and Derek.”

Hawk's mother cleared her throat. “As many of you know, Lucy hasn't always followed my advice—” there was a scattering of laughter among the guests “—but in this case she has my unqualified approval.” She raised her glass. “Well done, Lucy, and it is with great pleasure that I welcome you to the family, Derek.”

“Hear, hear,” chorused some of the guests.

The duchess lifted her glass higher. “I hope I shall have the opportunity to make another toast on a similarly happy occasion in the not-too-distant future.” Her gaze shifted for a moment to Hawk before returning to her daughter and future son-in-law. “To Lucy and Derek.”

As everyone raised their glasses in toast and sipped their champagne, Pia watched as the dowager duchess's gaze came to rest on Michelene. In turn, the younger woman glanced at Hawk, who was gazing at his mother, his expression inscrutable.

Pia felt her stomach plummet.

Sightlessly, she placed her glass back on the table without taking a sip.

Feeling suddenly ill, she experienced an overwhelming need to get away—to get some air.

Pia murmured an excuse in the general direction of her nearest dinner companions and rose from her seat.

Trying not to catch anyone's eye, she hurried from the room as fast as decorum would allow.

In the hall, she ran up the stairs. She was roiled by emotion that threatened to spill over into tears.

She'd been so naive yesterday. It was something that she'd
vowed to herself she'd never be again. And yet, she'd mistaken the situation entirely.

It wasn't that Michelene and Hawk had a
past
relationship that had been broken off. It was that they had a
current
tie that had an expectation of marriage.

Pia had gathered as much from the interchange that had just occurred during the dowager duchess's speech, and from the significant looks that had been exchanged.

She'd finally pieced together yesterday's puzzle, but in the process, she'd nearly humiliated herself in front of dozens of people.

At the top of the stairs, she turned left. Her bedroom was down the hallway.

“Pia, wait.”

Hawk's voice came from behind her, more command than plea. He sounded as if he was taking the stairs two at a time.

She picked up her pace. She hoped to reach the sanctuary of her room and throw the lock before he caught up with her. It was her only hope. She didn't want to risk having him see her break down.

She could hear Hawk's rapid steps behind her. In her gown, she couldn't move as fast as he could, though she had the hem raised with one hand.

And in the next moment, it was too late.

Hawk caught up with her, grasping her arm and turning her to face him.

“Wh-what?” she demanded, her throat clogged. “It's not midnight yet and C-Cinderella isn't allowed to disappear, is that it?”

“Are you leaving behind a glass slipper?” he countered, dropping his staying hand.

She gave an emotional laugh. “No, and you're not Prince Charming.”

His lips firmed into a thin line. “Let's go somewhere and discuss this.”

At least he understood why she was upset, and he wasn't going to pretend otherwise.

Still.
“I'm not going anywhere with you!”

Hawk sighed. “Will you let me explain?”

“D-damn you, Hawk,” she said, her voice wobbly. “I—I was just starting to trust you again! Now I discover that all along you've more or less had a fiancée waiting in the wings.”

Pia's jaw clenched. Did he know how fragile trust was? How could she ever trust him again?

He looked her in the eye. “That's what my mother would like to believe.”

“Oh? And you were unaware of this expectation?”

He remained silent.

Obviously, he was refusing to incriminate himself, Pia thought acerbically. He knew anything he said could and would be used against him.

“It appears that your mother had more than an expectation.”

Michelene herself obviously did, too. And Pia recalled Lucy's troubled expression yesterday in the Green Room. Had Hawk's sister realized that Michelene's unexpected appearance would present an awkward situation for her brother?

Hawk muttered something under his breath.

“You and Michelene seemed quite familiar yesterday!”

“You're mistaking matters or else deliberately mis-characterizing them,” he responded in a clipped tone. “I recall remaining by the fireplace when Michelene appeared.”

“You know what I mean,” Pia said, feeling like stamping her foot—as childish as that might be. “And why should I believe anything that you tell me? You failed to mention Michelene's existence to begin with.”

“I was involved with Michelene briefly after my brother's death. Michelene had been considered an eligible candidate
to be my brother's future duchess.” Hawk shrugged. “I was stepping into my brother's shoes, and Michelene was part of the package.”

And Pia wasn't.
She could hear the words as clearly as if they'd been spoken aloud.

As Hawk trailed off, Pia acknowledged the situation that he'd been in. He'd fallen into doing what had been expected of him. She could almost understand that.

And yet.
“Your mother acts as if an engagement announcement is imminent. If I hadn't stayed for the party at Lucy's request, is that how I would have heard about Michelene? An engagement notice in the paper?”

Hawk's engagement to another woman.
She couldn't help feeling hurt as well as betrayed. She'd told herself she'd be prepared for the end of their affair, but she hadn't foreseen
this.

“I am not engaged, I assure you,” Hawk shot back, looking frustrated. “I hadn't planned a proposal or bought a ring.”

“Well, then, you're running late,” she replied. “Michelene is waiting.”