“You need to smarten up, Alisa!” Arranging the tray, Alisa did her best not to get upset by Maria the cook’s pertinent observations. “Prince Benito likes his staff to look immaculate—you won’t keep this job if you don’t make more of an effort.”
“I will,” Alisa attempted an assured nod. “It was just such a rush to get here. I only just found out I’d been offered the job. I had to race home to sort out care for Marietta—”
“Don’t use your child as an excuse, Alisa,” Maria scolded, “A woman in your unfortunate position is lucky to have been offered the position of Prince Benito’s housekeeper here in the villa. There are plenty of other palace maids who would only be too happy to take your place! You should present with your hair neatly tied back and maybe a little makeup—you’re not scrubbing the fireplaces now! You have to look the part. “
“I will, Maria…” Picking up the tray, Alisa headed down the long corridor, her new, shapeless white uniform swishing as she did so, the bulky, rubber-soled white shoes she had been issued not making a sound on the highly polished marble floors. Alisa added smarten up to her endless list of urgent things she had to do.
Had to do.
She needed this job. Even if the hours were impossible, even if keeping up with Prince Benito’s exhausting, glittering schedule meant she would hardly see Marietta while he was here in Niroli, surely it would be worth it.
Alisa saw her hand was shaking slightly as she put it up to knock on the bedroom door.
As a palace maid, Alisa was used to glimpsing royals and their lavish existence, but it was always from a distance—laundering their sheets, washing their plates, scrubbing their floors. Unnoticed and utterly dispensable.
Until now!
Prince Benito had made his spectacular entrance to Niroli just three nights ago. A guest of his cousin, the very adored, if rather reprobate, Prince Luca Fierezza of Niroli, Benito had sailed his hundred-and-seventy-five-foot yacht from the neighboring island Contarini, and in the short time he’d been on the island he’d more than made his presence known, as was usually the case during his frequent visits. Whispers had been echoing down the palace corridors about wild nights of gambling and partying, and the first casualty of his reckless ways had been the villa’s loyal and hardworking housekeeper Bianca, sacked for supposedly rolling her eyes at the excessive requests of his latest girlfriend, Victoria. The second casualty had been Victoria herself—dumped by the prince, it was gleefully rumored, for rolling her eyes at one of his more excessive requests.
Hopefully the third victim wouldn’t be Alisa.
Two gentle knocks on the door, a pause for modesty’s sake, and Alisa entered, holding her breath as tightly as she held the tray and taking a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“Your coffee, Your Highness.”
Apparently he didn’t like needless chatter. A brief greeting had been her instructions—his coffee to be poured while he awoke and placed on the table beside him, then the curtains opened and his bath drawn.
Then she could breathe normally again.
Only, it wasn’t his royal status that daunted Alisa as she made her way over. It wasn’t that she desperately needed this job to work out. No, it was actually something rather more basic that had the twenty-one-year-old trembling with nerves as she hesitantly stood over him. It was that she’d never been in a man’s bedroom before—at least not while the owner was present.
Had never stood watching as a man slept.
Benito was lying prone on the vast bed, pillows tossed on the floor, his hand over the side as if he were on a lilo and trailing the water below. Even in semidarkness he was beautiful, more beautiful than the pictures she had seen. Broad shoulders, jet hair, the sculpted and chiseled perfection of his cheekbones and straight Roman nose and full, slightly parted lips. His beautifully arched eyebrows frowned slightly at the intrusion as Alisa quietly set about pouring his morning coffee—an apparent must before he even considered surfacing.
Where the hell was he?
He stretched out his long legs and encountered nothing; he was unused to an empty space in his bed. Still hungover, he opened one eye, but instead of orienting himself, Benito fought wakefulness, enjoying the sweet, soapy, feminine fragrance filling his nostrils, the soft voice lulling him from sleep, watching long, slender fingers shaking slightly as they poured his morning coffee.
“What time is it?”
“Eleven a.m.” Her voice was coming from the other side of the room now. Benito turned toward the sound and sat up, observing as she pulled open the heavy drapes. Dark curls, loosely tied back, trailed down the back of her dress, the shapeless, voluminous cut of the material serving to accentuate her slender arms and legs and, not so idly, Benito wondered what she’d look like from the front.
“Would you like me to run your bath now?”
When she turned around, the sun behind made her face almost unreadable, but as she walked toward him, slowly she came into delicious focus. A riot of curls framed her pretty face, dark eyes shyly averted, her full rosebud mouth moved awkwardly as she addressed him and, he noted, the yards of material that swamped her frame couldn’t quite stifle the splendid curve of her breasts.
Wishing he was still on his stomach, Benito pulled his knees up as she leaned over and handed him his coffee. He saw that those dark eyes weren’t actually black but the deepest green, and that soapy fragrance was momentarily overriding the strong scent of coffee and having the most disturbing effect on him.
“Would you like a bath?” she asked again. Taking the cup from her hand, Benito promptly decided that he needed to get out more—three nights of sleeping alone and he was attracted to the maid.
“Please.” His nod should have dismissed her—had it been Bianca, his old housekeeper, it would have—but clearly unsure of her role, she stood there uncertainly, her straight white teeth nibbling nervously on her bottom lip as she plucked up the nerve to address him again.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
A very wry smile dusted his lips as a terribly inappropriate thought occurred—she was seriously gorgeous! Benito was tempted almost to pull back the sheets and tell her exactly what she could do for him, and for the first time in probably a quarter of a century, he actually blushed at the depravity of his thoughts.
“Sort out the bathroom.” He flicked his hand now to dismiss her. “There is a lot of clutter, women’s stuff. I want it all cleared out. I am tired of looking at her trash. Bin it, please.”
“Of course.”
Running his bath, adding oils and placing his towels, Alisa caught a sight of herself in the vast bathroom mirror, cringing at her untamed curls and flushed complexion, wondering how she could smarten up without a single tool of the trade. Everything she earned was more than accounted for, what with rent, Marietta’s medicine, books for night school, oh, and on a good week, food!
What if she didn’t “bin it”?
Taking the lid off a lipstick, Alisa, lost in thought like a child rummaging through her mother’s makeup, wound it up and held it beside her mouth, oh so tempted to try it on.
“What are you doing?”
Guilt made her jump. Alisa didn’t know how long he’d been standing there watching her, just a towel slung around his hips. He walked behind her and stared at her reflection, staring at every flicker of her reaction as she burned with mortification, not just at being caught, but at what must surely follow.
Her time as his housemaid was no doubt over before it had even started.
“I’m sorry!” Alisa’s guilty eyes met his. “I wasn’t going to…” She knew how bad it looked, knew that she’d been caught just thinking about stealing. “I would never…“ Her voice trailed off helplessly as he stood silently, watching her flounder. “It seemed such a shame to waste it when I’ve been told I have to smarten up—”
“Who said you needed to smarten up?”
“Maria the cook—all of them. They say that if I am to work for you I must make more of an effort.” Tears were filling her eyes, and she lowered them in shame and misery. “I don’t have any makeup, I don’t have anything…”
“Try it then” Dark blue eyes met hers in the mirror, just a glimmer of a smile on his cruel mouth. “Who knows? Maybe if you do smarten up, I will keep you.”
Bastard.
She wanted to turn and run, but since that would find her facing his naked chest, Alisa had little choice but to comply. She’d never put on lipstick; the cool waxy pad felt strange against her lips as her unskilled fingers tried to press it on.
“Like this.” He turned her rigid body around, took the golden pen from her clasped hand and painted the color slowly on using tiny featherlight strokes on her lips. She closed her eyes in shame, sure he was laughing at her, playing with her, like a cat taunting a bird before the kill.
What the hell was he doing?
Christ, he didn’t care if she took the makeup. After all, he had no need for it! Benito knew he should have directed her out and firmly closed the bathroom door, but she was so adorable…. Those startled, fearful eyes enthralled him, the rapid rise and fall of that glorious bosom had hardened him again, and now here she was, the soft skin of her cheek in his palm, damp lashes fanning her cheeks as she closed her eyes against tears. And that mouth! That full, sultry mouth all dark pink and shiny, and here he was, naked, except for a precariously placed towel, with this beauty in his hands.
When she opened her eyes and stared fearfully into his, never had he so badly wanted to undo his own handiwork, so tempted to kiss it all off.
“There.” He turned her around to face the mirror, observed silently as she viewed the transformation. He felt kneed in the groin with longing as she pouted slightly, then ran her lucky tongue along unfamiliar lips. “What do you think?”
“It is what you think that matters.” He watched her swallow, watched as a salty tear spilled from the corner of her eye.
“I’m sorry. I can assure you nothing like that will happen again.”
“Good.” His voice was suddenly gruff. “What is your name?”
“Alisa.”
“Well, Alisa, you do not need lipstick to—” He didn’t finish what he was saying, his whole line of thinking completely inappropriate. “That will be all.”
He stood stock-still as she gave a hurried nod, then turned her flaming face from him and hurried from the bathroom. In her haste, she forgot to close the door. Only, he didn’t call her back; far easier instead to do it himself, to drag out a long-held breath and lean his weight against the jamb for a moment.
She was truly beautiful.
Lowering himself into the soapy water, Benito tried to block out her features from his mind, but even with his eyes closed, her face was all he could see, those full lips a mere few inches away from his as he’d caressed her cheek.
“Cristo!”
Unwashed, unsatisfied and spun out on lust, Benito hauled himself out of the bath, dried and dressed himself in rapid time, then punched some numbers into the phone.
“Pronto, Luca…” he greeted his cousin warmly.
“What are you doing calling so early?” Luca laughed. “It is not even lunchtime.”
“Shame to waste the day in bed.” Benito shrugged.
“Do you want to take out the boat?” Luca suggested. “I can have it arranged—”
“No,” Benito quickly interrupted. “I think I might go and look at the casino, see how my investment is doing.” Luca Fierezza was the major owner of the Niroli Casino, but as a silent partner, Benito had a keen interest in the place.
“Of course,” Luca agreed. “I will have the accountant set up the books for you to see. Do you want to meet there in, say, half an hour?”
“That is not what I am interested in—I should have made myself clearer. It is a shame to waste a day alone in bed.”
“So the rumors are true—things are definitely over with you and Victoria!” Luca let out a low growl of laugher. “You know there will be many women only too pleased to help you get over this tough patch.”
“Good,” Benito responded, replacing the phone, glad that Luca understood him. Luca was more like a brother than a cousin. Or more like a brother should be, Benito thought as he stuffed his wallet with cash and credit cards. His own brother, the much-older King Alessandro of Contarini, was more a disapproving father figure than the friend and confidant Luca was. Not that Alessandro approved of the friendship—their wild youth had more than kept the two palaces’ spin doctors dancing on their toes.
But what was new? Benito thought, heading to the bathroom to douse himself in his own signature fragrance, catching sight of the discarded lipstick. His very birth had been turned into PR exercise—he was the “sticking plaster” baby of Contarini, conceived many years after his siblings in an attempt by his parents to salvage their marriage. His father and Alessandro had been too busy running the struggling country to bother with a bored and curious child. Only his sister Francesca had really given a damn, inviting him to stay on the richer Island of Niroli over the years, giving him a teasing glimpse of how a prince should really live.
And live he did!
He picked up the internal phone to summon his transport, and stalked out the bedroom, only pausing momentarily when he saw the lavish brunch Alisa and some other servants were setting up on balcony overlooking the beach. “I’m eating out today. I shan’t be back till late—if at all…”
He could see that her eyes were swollen from crying, and knew that, no doubt, she was awaiting the axe to fall. Something twisted inside him. “I have left some mending for you in a basket on my bed. See that you properly take care of it.”
“Certainly, Your Royal Highness.”
“Benito,” he corrected curtly. “When I am at home, I like to be called Benito.”
“Since when?” Alberto the butler huffed the second the front door slammed closed. Then, picking up a pastry from the table, he took a bite.
“You should go home and see how your wife is doing,” Maria suggested. “Spend some time with Anna while…” Her voice trailed off helplessly, time the one thing Alberto’s wife had little of left. “The rest of us can take it easy for the rest of the day! Not you.” Maria frowned at Alisa as various staff appeared from the shadows, all delighted to feast on the cold meats and pastries that Benito had left untouched. “You heard His Royal Highness—you’ve got his room to attend to, and then you’ve got some mending to be getting on with.”
Picking up the endless damp towels Benito had thoughtlessly tossed aside, Alisa set to work making the crumpled bed. But as she plumped the pillows, her hands lingered, lifted the heavy cool fabric to her face and inhaled his scent, replaying details in her mind, not the fear and humiliation this time, but the feel of him.
The feel of such a stunning man, holding her, his breath on her cheeks, his naked skin that had forced her eyes closed, that trill, low, low in her stomach as he had stood so close. Shameful, wanton, unfamiliar thoughts stirred in her troubled mind as she pictured him lying in that bed.
Don’t be daft, Alisa scolded. She had no right to even entertain such thoughts. He was a royal prince. He could have—did have—any woman he wanted.
With a sigh she picked up the basket, frowning at its heavy weight, and headed back to her own spartan room, but as she lifted a shirt her eyes widened in shocked wonder at the contents beneath—every perfume, every cream, every piece of makeup her greedy eyes had devoured was there…was now hers.
“See that you properly take care of it.”
Benito’s husky words rang in her ears as Alisa set about her tasks, as she dragged herself through the day and anticipated tonight.
Anticipated his face when he came home, wondering, wanting to see just a glimmer of masculine approval in those decadent eyes when he saw the change in her.
The single light in her room was impossible to study by—the words in her book blurred and, her head drooping with exhaustion for the hundredth time, Alisa was tempted to close it.
Then what?
She had to stay awake. Had to greet the prince if he appeared and hope to God he didn’t notice Alberto wasn’t here.
Since their first encounter Alisa had hardly seen the prince. Her newly rouged lips and kohl-rimmed eyes barely merited a glance during one of his rare appearances.
She’d sit in the hallway, Alisa decided. The light was so much better there, and if she did fall asleep, if he did choose to come home, then she’d be awoken by the sound of the car….
“Your Highness!” Blinking, smiling a little too brightly in the hopes he wouldn’t hear the fog of her voice, Alisa jumped to attention as Benito pushed the front door open.
“Where’s Alberto?” He frowned, clearly less than impressed at having to let himself in. “And I already told you—I prefer Benito.”
“Can I get you anything…Benito,” Alisa stumbled. “A light supper?”
“You can answer my question. Where is Alberto?”
“At home.” Cringing, she was desperate to look at the floor rather than him, but for Alberto’s sake she tried to hold Benito’s haughty glare. “I know it is irregular, but his wife was taken very ill this afternoon. He will be back first thing in the morning.”
“If his wife is suddenly sick, then of course he should take some time off.” Benito waved, striding toward the lounge as Alisa nervously followed.
“She has been sick for a while—today she got worse…” Her words were tumbling out, the book she should have hidden, in her hand as she pleaded for the sake of her colleague. “She only has a week or two to live. I hope you can understand—”
“You think I am that much of an ogre?” He swung around. “You think because I am royal I have no feelings?”
“Of course not.”
“Alberto can return to work when he is ready. If it causes problems with the palace I will even tell them that. Until he returns, I do not need a butler!”
“No” The forbidden word to royalty came out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her heart jumped to her throat as his eyes formed two dark slits, the air thick with tension as she fought to retract her comment, yet willed herself to continue. “That would not help Alberto. I know you mean well, Your Highness, I mean, Benito, but you fail to understand—”
“I. Fail. To. Understand?” Each word was like a pistol shot, her words clearly enraging him further. “I come home to no butler, my housekeeper half-asleep with her head in a novel—” he grabbed at her book and waved it in the air “—and instead of firing you both I come up with a solution.”
“I was studying…” Alisa begged, her hand grabbing for her precious book, but he held it too high. “Please, I need my book.”
“For what?”
“I told you—I am studying.”
“Tourism.” He frowned at the title. “You have big dreams! Is that why you do not fit in?” As he handed the book back to her he registered her grimace. “I have seen the way the other staff talk to you, that you choose to go to your room rather than—” He gave a small shrug. “You think you are too good for them?”
“No, but that is how they think I feel.” Alisa admitted. “They say I should be happy with my lot, honored to work at the palace.”
“You think it is beneath you?”
“Of course not.” She began brushing the floor with her foot. “I am grateful for the work, but yes…one day I hope for better. Please, Benito,” Alisa screwed her eyes closed, could scarcely believe the mess she had made of things. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing Alberto in the morning…and it was that thought alone that gave the nerve to continue. “Your offer for Alberto is incredibly generous—”
“I will not be patronized by a maid.” Benito sneered. “Have the guts to finish what you started. Tell me what it is that I do not understand.”
“A-Alberto needs the work,” she stammered, her eyes glassy with tears as she told him the truth. “If he has time off, he will not be paid and now, more than ever, he needs the money.”
“Surely he should want to be with his wife.”
“Want and need are two different things.” Somehow her words hit, only not the mark she’d intended. The vast airy room was suddenly stifling and warm… And even when she remembered her place, even when she added a respectful “Sir” to the end of her sentence, it did nothing to release the sudden tension.
“Surely they mean the same.” His voice was low, the anger gone from it, but it was just as dangerous. The lateness of the hour, the fact it was just the two of them in the villa trickled into her consciousness as surely as it did into his. “Come on. You are the clever one who is studying. Tell me—what is the difference?”
“I don’t know.” Alisa moistened her dry lips, her mind whirring as she attempted to answer him. “Want is…desire, craving…”
“And need?”
“Need is…” She could feel her cheeks flaming under his scrutiny. She attempted to hold his unwavering gaze, but was sideswiped by untoward thoughts as she struggled to keep control,
“Go on.”
“Need is about obligation, about doing what is necessary.”
There was an interminable silence, her heart hammering so loudly surely he must hear it. Her fate—Alberto’s fate—was held solely in his manicured hands.
“You can cover his shortfall? If Alberto is not here, you can make up his duties without my having to inform the palace.”
“Of course,” Alisa breathed, wondering if she dared to tell him now about Marietta, that she had to dash home each evening to kiss her and give Marietta her medications, but Alberto needed this so much that Alisa chose not to.
“When I am out, when the other staff are gone—” her breath was hot in her lungs as she awaited his demands “—you can use the study, the computer.” The tiny gasp that escaped from her lips was unavoidable. The precious money, the time she would save typing up her work rather than laboriously handwriting her assignments or using the library computer, was way beyond anything she could have expected. And yet there was a strange thud of disappointment, too, in that tiny slice of time her mind had danced dangerously.
“Thank you.” How paltry that sounded. “Really, thank you.”
“You should go to bed now.” Benito’s words dismissed her, but his eyes still held hers.
“Do you want supper?”
“I am fine.”
She knew she should turn and go, thank him again on the way out, but instead she stood there, mere inches separating them. Benito was the one who spoke first.
“I cannot decide if makeup suits you.”
Alisa gave a little laugh. “I cannot decide, either. It seems a lot of trouble to go to and my pillow…” she halted herself, but Benito pushed on.
“Tell me.”
“I forgot to take off my lipstick one night…” She didn’t elaborate, knew somehow they were both crossing a line, especially when she held his gaze, especially when, after the longest pause, Benito voiced his wicked thought.
“Lucky pillow.”
“Hush, Marietta,” Alisa soothed, holding the angry, coughing bundle tightly to her body. “You have to take your medicine. She ought to see the doctor,” Alisa added to her neighbor and trusted friend Bella, who hovered nearby.
“You have given her an extra dose of medicine,” Bella pointed out. “That is what the doctor will tell you to do, and charge you for the pleasure. She is just missing you.”
“I miss you, too,” Alisa breathed, hugging her sister more closely as her eyelids grew heavy. “Tomorrow, after Sunday school, we will have the whole afternoon together.”
“You sound tired.” Bella’s voice was sympathetic. “Are you very busy?”
“Not really—there isn’t much work to do. Benito lets me use the computer when he is out so I have been catching up with my studies.”
“Benito?” Bella frowned.
“That is what he likes to be called.”
“Why is this man doing you any favors?”
“Because he’s…nice.” Alisa gulped, glad for once of Bella’s fading eyesight so she couldn’t see dull blush on her cheeks, the blush that was ever present whenever she so much as thought about Benito.
She’d fled to her bedroom after his provocative words, had tried and failed to ignore the sizzling tension between them, struggled to remind herself she was a mere maid, that he was a prince, that nothing could ever come of it, but the opportunity to talk about him was just too tempting to pass up. “Really nice sometimes. You know, Bella, despite all the scandal attached to his name, he’s actually a very kind man.”
“A man who’s used to getting what he wants!” Bella said, unusually sharp. “Watch yourself, Alisa.”
“As if he’d even look twice at me!” Alisa attempted a casual laugh, but Bella wasn’t about to be swayed.
“You’re young, you’re beautiful,” Bella said, “and you have a heart of gold, a heart he would use, then cast aside without a second thought. Don’t go getting fancy ideas in your head, Alisa…if he is being nice, you can be assured it is just a means to an end for him.”
“Perhaps,” Alisa conceded.
“No perhaps about it!” Bella insisted. “I know you well, Alisa. You always were a dreamer, and you are doing it now. One night in his arms would not be enough for you. You deserve more than the dregs Prince Benito Fortesque would give you.”
“You should see how he lives, Bella—I’ve never seen such waste. Why should he get everything and Marietta has nothing?”
“She has you,” Bella said wisely. “Once you finish your schooling you will be able to give her the things you want to, the things your parents would have wanted you both to have.”
At the mention of her parents, Alisa felt her throat thicken. Even after five years she missed them terribly.
“They would be so proud of you,” Bella said softly. “It would have been so much easier to let the authorities take Marietta—instead you have taken her on as your own. Suffered the unfair shame of raising an illegitimate child here on Niroli. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Alisa hugged the elderly woman. “I will pay you back. As soon as I can afford it, I will fly you to the mainland and you will get your eye operation.”
“Dreaming again!” The old lady gave a weary shrug.
“Nice dreams, though,” Alisa countered. “I have to go. It is only me on tonight, and if he comes back and no one is there…”
“It’s Saturday night,” Bella laughed. “Why would Benito be home?”
Why indeed?
Walking into the darkened lounge, Alisa almost shot out of her skin as she saw him sitting in the chair, a dark, foreboding expression on his face that had her heart quickening.
“I had to make my own supper!” He stared at her accusingly. “I came back a dark house and no staff. You said you would cover for Alberto. I was about to ring the palace!”
She should have apologized, should have begged his forgiveness if she had a hope of keeping her job, but Marietta’s sobs were still ringing in her ears; Bella’s plight, her warning, still buzzing in her head. And the shame of wanting him too much… Instead of scaring her, his reaction enraged her—gave her, if not the strength, then the stupidity to say her piece.
“Poor Benito,” she purred, but it was laced with venom. “Poor Benito had to open his own door, had to turn on the lights by himself and then, my goodness, fix his own supper! My heart bleeds for you.”
“That is no way to talk to me.” He stood up caught her wrist and spun her around. “I am your boss.”
“Not now.” Alisa spat. “So don’t humiliate me by insisting on an apology when you will dismiss me a second later. I am not sorry that I went home for half an hour to kiss my—my daughter good-night.”
“You have a child?”
“I have a life, Your Royal Highness. A life you’re about to ruin, so get it over with.”
He should—Benito knew that was exactly what he should do. Her insolence, that she hadn’t been here to tend to him, were good enough reasons—not that he needed them. But the anger that broiled him now wasn’t because of that. She had a child. He couldn’t fathom why it mattered, only knew that it did. She had a husband waiting at home, missing that long-limbed body each night, just as Benito would miss her.
Hell, he’d hit the casino, had gone to the clubs and the bars, spent the past three days trying to lose himself in all the glamour Niroli could offer, only he hadn’t been able to. He could think about only her, Alisa, the little spitfire in his arms now.
“You need this job?” His eyes held hers.
“Of course.”
“What if I let you go home to kiss your child every night?” He saw the hope that flared in her eyes disappear almost instantly as doubt impinged when he spelled out his terms. “And then you come back to kiss me?”
It should have been the most abhorrent of offers—from anyone, anyone else it would have been—but staring deep into his eyes, feeling the pad of his fingers on her leaping pulse, awareness coursing through her body, it was anything but abhorrent.
Too stunned to respond, too shocked to question, she stood there as his lips found hers, moved gently on her resisting flesh as her mind begged for reason.
He was skilled. If he’d moved too fast she’d have backed away, would have slapped his cheek with her tense hands, but instead her head arched slightly backward as his lips trailed down her neck, his tongue making its debut only then. He kissed her skin slowly, moving back up to the little piece of flesh at the base of her ear. She shivered beneath him.
“Or,” he offered more generously, “I kiss you.”
It wasn’t a teasing taste this time—his thorough mouth was hot on hers, his tongue delicious. Her whole body flared, a tiny shift was all that was required till it pressed against his. His hands were off her wrist now, knotting into her thick curls as he devoured her, his manhood hard and urgent against her. It was bliss to lose herself for the first time in the longest time, to not think, to just feel…
“I want you,” he gasped the words between kisses. “From that morning when first I saw you…I have wanted you. I will not get rid of you if you…”
His words propelled her from ecstasy to hell, the crude terms of his offer glaringly laid out. Breathless and angry, she pushed him away.
“I will not be your puttana!” She spat the words as she ran out the door. “I scrub you floors, Your Highness, so I can stay off the streets, not the other way around.”
Trembling with rage she slammed her bedroom door, pulled off her uniform and jumped into bed, pulling the sheets around her body, reeling with shock at her bold words and all that would surely ensue. For Marietta’s sake maybe she should have just tended to his obvious needs.
Her obvious needs.
Her nipples felt like thistles against the starched, scratchy sheets, the space between her legs hot and heavy with insatiable desire.
Alisa closed her eyes as full horror hit. The words he’d uttered in passion might just as well have been her own; he’d dammed the intimacy because he’d spoken her impossible truth.
From that morning when first I saw you…I have wanted you.
She wanted him, too.
But she wanted more than just one night with him.
She wanted the impossible.
Sailing was Alisa’s one passion, one indulgence. The small, repaired boat belonged to the palace and was made available to staff. While Marietta was safe at Sunday school, Alisa took the opportunity to forget her troubles. Being out on the ocean, feeling the wind whipping her hair and the sun on her body was normally soothing, just not today.
Climbing onto the jetty, dragging the heavy rope, Alisa wondered what to do with the rest of her morning. She was scared to head back to the villa and hear her fate, but wondered how she could appear cheerful for Bella and Marietta.
Last night she’d wanted Benito’s hands on her, had wanted him to make love to her, and no doubt she’d have been rewarded. So why hadn’t she?
Because she’d wanted more than that from him—she wanted him not just for sex, but as a lover and an equal.
Restless, dressed only in shorts, Benito paced the yacht, toying with the idea of taking it out or perhaps heading back to the casino. He’d been up since dawn—had been awake all night, really—knowing he should fire Alisa, that he had to get her fired. Only, he didn’t want to.
He’d seen the anger in her eyes, the disgust that had flared there, and he was ashamed of himself. For the first time in his indulgent life, Benito danced on the edge of introspection and didn’t like what he saw one single bit.
His frivolous ways, the endless women, the partying, the gambling. Sure he earned his own money—he had businesses all over the globe and didn’t live off the fat of the land like some royals—yet he made it his business to get whatever he wanted.
And last night, child or not, husband or not…he’d wanted her.
At first he didn’t recognize the dark beauty dragging in the tiny boat. Khaki shorts accentuated her long, olive legs, worn leather sandals and a small red bikini top left little to the imagination. But the head of dark curls jerked him to recognition. Free of the tie she usually wore, her hair danced in the morning sun as she stood up and walked along the jetty. Her pretty face looked troubled as she was lost in her own thoughts. She glanced up with a frown when he called her name.
“Alisa, I want to talk.”
“Why?” She stared at him boldly, the sun forcing her to squint. “I am sure there is little to say. I am going back to the villa now—no doubt to be delivered my marching orders.”
“I have not had you fired.”
“And I have not changed my mind about last night’s request.”
He beckoned her with a short nod, and only a fool would have refused his summons, so she made her own way onto the boat, staring at her feet, acquiescing when he suggested they go below deck.
“I was thoughtless last night—my words…my actions.” Was Prince Benito actually blushing as he addressed her? “I know how I made it sound, but the truth is I wanted more than a kiss.”
“You made that perfectly clear!” Alisa retorted, but it was she who was blushing now.
“Yes, I wanted that, but I wanted you, too, Alisa. I wanted to talk to you, to get to know you better.”
“There’s little to know.”
“I don’t believe that…” He shook his head. “I see how proud you are, how hard you work!” Confused, troubled eyes jerked to his. “I see distaste in your eyes when you look at me, and I wanted to right that. I also thought I saw…” he closed his eyes “…I thought there could be something between us. Clearly I was mistaken.”
“You weren’t!” Her voice was thick with tears, the words shouted out on a sob. Emotion, frustration, confusion boiled to the surface as she told him her simple truth. “The cost for one night with you would be too great to me.”
“What if it wasn’t just one night?” His low, measured words halted her. Glimpses of what he was offering, dizzying her like a merry-go-round as her eyes slowly came to focus on him. “If I were to come to Niroli more often…”
He held her in his arms now, his fingers wiping away her tears as Alisa imagined a future as Benito’s mistress.
“I could take care of you.”
“People would…“ Her words faded as his thumb played with her bottom lip. Every nerve in her body screamed for the same attention, the air so thick with lust she could hardly breathe.
“If I kiss you now, Alisa, would that be need or want?”
“You already know the answer.” She closed her eyes, almost angry at him for the passion he ignited, weakening her body and mind with desire.
“Say it.”
“Want.” Full, moist lips delivered her bold answer, the word barely out before his own mouth met hers, every molecule in her body shifting as unhurriedly he devoured her. The taste of him on her, so forbidden it could only be divine.
“I will care for you.” Benito was kissing her neck now—fervent, hot kisses—her head circling as dormant wishes awoke. His tongue circled the shell of her ears, then moved down, her breasts swelling against his naked chest, her throat closing in delicious shock as he claimed one swollen, mahogany-colored nipple and suckled her deeply.
“I will look after you…” His fingers toyed with the zipper of her shorts, then slipped inside, parting her and playing with her beating jewel as his mouth worked its magic and his other hand slid her shorts down over her bottom. “I can see you when I am in Niroli. We can be discreet.”
There was nothing discreet about his erection nudging at her entrance, and nothing discreet about her want. Maybe she could be his mistress, maybe she could be loved some nights, adored by this beautiful man, taken care of just a little bit for the very first time.
He guided her to the royal stateroom, kissing her each step of the way, skin on skin as his mouth touched her everywhere. Desire matching desire, frenzied hands discarding clothing, warm legs parting at the blissful weight of him on top of her. But want, no matter how fierce, couldn’t rapidly prepare virgin flesh for the first deep stab of him. Biting his chest as he seared inside her, Alisa was unable to stifle the sob that welled in her throat, torn between want and agony as he swelled deeper within her tight, intimate space.
“No…” The reluctant word was a sob, a muffled scream as her thighs straightened in a regretful reflex as she tried to accommodate him.
“I’ve hurt you?” His withdrawal was as rapid as his embrace, his shocked features taking in her tears as he scooped her against him. “I thought you wanted—“
“I did…” she murmured. “I do…” She was crying now, scared and sore but still shamefully wanting, “I’ve never done this before…” Wincing against him, Alisa could almost hear his mind asking impossible questions. “I didn’t tell you the truth. Marietta isn’t my daughter.“ She sobbed trying to cover herself, grabbing a sheet, terrified at what she must now admit to this very powerful man. “She’s my sister.”
“Your sister?” He stared down at her, confusion lacing every feature. “Why?” He shook his head. “Why would you lie to me? Why say she is yours?”
“Because they would take her away!” Her tear-streaked face turned to his, her eyes pleading for his understanding.
“But you and your husband can surely—”
“There is no husband! I raise her alone.”
“When?” As if she were on fire, he dropped her, emphasizing the very question Alisa had often asked herself. “When do you raise her?”
“I have to work.” Alisa gasped. “I have to pay for her medicines. Benito, she is unwell, she needs medicine—”
“Is it any wonder?” The harshness of his voice was like a slap. His dark eyes looked at her with utter distaste. “You are never there for her. And on your one day off you are out sailing and screwing—”
Grabbing at her clothes, appalled at his reaction, she ran from the boat, but there was no hiding from the truth. His terrifying words taunted her over and over as she raced along the pier until, breathless and dizzy, she arrived at Sunday school to collect her sister.
“Maybe she would be better off without you.”
“He’s right.” Alisa shivered in misery. Once again Marietta’s sobs and coughing still had not abated despite the lateness of the hour. “I am not here for her enough.”
“You love her, though,” Bella pointed out. “As soon as you have your qualifications, you will be there for her each morning, at home in the evenings—”
“Dreams!” This time it was Alisa who gave a weary shrug. “How can I study when I have no work to pay our bills?”
“You don’t know that yet, not until you go back to the villa…” Bella attempted to be optimistic, but it was hopeless, they both knew that. Alisa had seen the anguish on the old lady’s lined face when, sobbing, Alisa had told her the story. “Hold your head high when they fire you, Alisa. He had no right to say those things to you. How could a man of his status possibly know how hard it is?”
He didn’t want to know.
Benito didn’t want to think about her life because then he might have to examine his own.
Didn’t want to ask himself why it was easier to sleep with an unfaithful wife than a virgin aunt.
Pacing the floor of the villa, a thousand times he halted by the phone, even picked it up a few times to arrange her dismissal as he had done to others so many times in the past, for a spilled glass of wine on his expensive suit, for the fire not being lit when he’d arrived home unannounced. The knot of self-loathing didn’t loosen as he downed a whisky in one gulp as, over and over, he tried to convince himself he was right.
He worked hard!
So had they.
He deserved respect!
Why?
“Because I am royalty!” he said it aloud, walked out onto the balcony and stared out to the inky waters of the Mediterranean, to the islands that were his playgrounds, where his reckless, lonely youth had been spent.
Lonely.
It was not lonely… Benito sneered at his own thoughts. There had been caregivers, nannies and, later, endless parties, women. Yes, his parents, his brother, had been too busy running the country to bother with him. Francesca, his sister, had tried…until the very day she had died she had indulged him, spoiled him. But when had she really been there for him—when had any of them?
Who was there for Alisa’s little sister?
Benito closed his eyes in bitter regret, furious with himself, with her, with everyone. He held the empty glass in his hand so tightly it should surely shatter as he recalled Alisa’s stifled sob as he’d entered her. The pain she been willing to endure—had endured—to provide for her sister searing at his dignity.
Had Alisa even wanted him at all?
“Prince Benito…” Her voice did nothing to soothe him now, his face black as thunder when he turned to look at her. “I understand if you must dismiss me. I just ask that you do not reveal…” He watched her swallow, watched that beautiful mouth strain as she tried to form the words. Benito didn’t want to remember the feel of her in his arms, tried and failed not to want her. “I beg you not to reveal the truth about my sister.”
“There are rules, Alisa. I see the contempt in your eyes for the royalty of Niroli, but they do provide well for their people. Your sister will be given an education, fed properly, looked after—”
“Kissed good-night?” Alisa challenged. “Loved even when she is so very difficult to love at times?” He didn’t answer so she did it for him. “No one will love her more than I do. Soothe your conscience if you must, believe she is better off with a full belly and devoid of love—I do not have to agree.”
“You are not there for her.”
“My neighbor is.”
“Your neighbor?” Benito sneered, but still she stood proud.
“Bella is a good woman. A good woman who will lose her sight in the next two years because she cannot get the surgery she needs. I will care for her then as she cares for Marietta now.”
“There is a hospital. Your royal family ensures its people—”
“The hospital does not do the surgery Bella requires. Will your family pay for her ticket to the mainland, for her appointments and then for her operation?” Alisa gave a mocking laugh. “You choose not to see the disparity, Benito, well that’s your choice. Believe the propaganda you have been fed, if it makes you sleep better at night.”
“I sleep very at well night.” He stared at her coolly. “I leave after the ball on Saturday—you will continue to work for me till then, but there is one condition.” He watched her flounder as he delivered his offer, “You will attend the ball with me.”
“No!” She shook her head. “That is as good as firing me. Surely you know that will alienate me. I could never work here again if I attend the ball with you. If you leave afterward, then the whole of Niroli will know—”
“That is my intention!” A muscle leaped in his cheek as he absolved himself of her problems. “I will give you enough money so you do not have to work for a couple of years, so you can attend night class and still be there for Marietta.”
“Why do you care about her?” Alisa rasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. Oh, it sounded like a dream offer, but he was changing her world, changing everything and walking away to leave her to deal with the fallout. Asking her to be his discreet mistress was one thing, but to take her out publicly and then walk away? “You have never even met her.”
“She reminds me of someone.” Benito gave a dismissive shrug. “So what is your response. Do you accept my offer?”
“I assume I am to spend the night with you afterward?”
“Of course.” Again he shrugged. “I deserve some compensation.”
“So do I.” The disgust in her eyes mirrored how Benito felt, so rather than face her, he turned away as she upped the terms of his offer. “You will pay for Bella’s surgery, too.”
“You are in no position to make demands on me!” He stared at her now. Just who the hell did this little woman think she was?
“Oh, I mightn’t be in the best position now…” Slowly she walked toward him, hating him, loathing him, not for what he was, but for what he refused to be—the man she was sure was there beneath the pomp and title. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips against his rigid ones, took his hand and guided it toward her, his fingers taut as they attempted to resist, his breath ragged on her cheek as he tried to appear unmoved, but the steel of his erection told her otherwise as she wiggled against him provocatively.
“As you know, I’m not very experienced with these things. I guess you’ll have to show me the position you want me in after the ball!” Her voice was a throaty whisper as boldly she stroked him, toying with his zipper for a moment, then, with a surly shrug of her own, dropping her hands, breaking all contact. Only her glittering eyes staring up at his as she reiterated her demands. If her actions were shameless she didn’t care—Alisa knew she had something Prince Benito wanted badly, and she intended to use her power wisely.
Use it for the people she loved.
Not even limitless funds could ensure a booking at the Niroli Day Spa on the day of the ball.
Anyone who was invited was someone, which meant the appointment book had been filled months in advance and read like the rich list of Europe. But when it was Prince Benito himself making the booking, insisting in his royal voice that every expertise and treatment was to be made available for his date, after first dropping the receiver in surprise, the booking clerk made a very smart decision and promptly assured him there would be no problem fitting in Alisa Moretti.
And though not one of the staff who tended to her that day dared voice their misgivings, as she discarded her clothes and wrapped herself in a dusky pink gown, as her body was wrapped in Niroli volcanic mud, as her skin was buffed and oiled and her hair cut and tamed, as every feature was beautifully accentuated under skillful hands, Alisa could see the question in their eyes. The same question that had been in the eyes of the personal shoppers yesterday, the same question that had been loudly voiced by Maria when she had found out what was going on.
“You?” Her red face was appalled. “Why would he take you?”
“He just is.” Through white lips Alisa attempted to explain the impossible. “He just said that he wanted to take me on Saturday, that I am to dress up for him.”
“Dress up for him behind closed doors then!” Maria shouted as Alisa gave a shocked gasp. “You think I am blind? I have worked in the palace for forty years—you think I don’t know what goes on?”
“You don’t understand,” Alisa started, but when Maria burst into tears—Maria, who had always screamed at her, always taunted and shouted at her—and actually came over and wrapped her in her arms, Alisa was stunned.
“I understand that it happens, but you have to be discreet, Alisa. After the ball he will be gone, and you will not be able to work here anymore. Even if a decent man was to want you after this, he could never publicly admit it.”
“I already have a child,” Alisa sobbed. “I don’t see the men queuing up anyway! This way I can go to the mainland perhaps, start over again where no one knows me.” She’d really thought about it. In the painful week leading to the ball it was almost all she thought about. She’d see Bella through her operation, then, with Marietta as her sister not her daughter, she would study hard and start again….
“You do what you have to.” Maria shook her head sadly. “Anyway, it is probably too late to say no to him now.”
Back in the villa, Alisa lifted her silver gown from her wooden single bed, sliding it over head and wrestling with the zipper. She stared at the scratchy gray blankets that wouldn’t house her tonight—instead she’d lie on silk. Lie with Prince Benito and give to him not just what she had promised, but what she wanted to give.
No matter how she fought it, how she tried to think otherwise, despite the circumstances, the clinical exchange that underpinned tonight, despite herself, she wanted him still.
Wanted him to be the one.
Closing her eyes she relived the feel of his hands on her body, saw those arrogant eyes softened with desire, heard the endearment that would spill from his lips for the very last time.
“Alisa?” Two knocks on her door, and it was Benito who was pausing for modesty. Only, she was positive his hands weren’t shaking as hers had been that first morning. Tonight she was just another woman to him, another conquest, another toy to play with for a little while…. Her throat tightened with tears that she swallowed down, wanting so badly to tell him how she really felt, but as the door opened and he stood there—exquisite in formal wear, his dark hair brushed back to reveal perfectly chiseled features—she closed her mind on telling him her truth. What did it matter to a man like Benito that she might very possibly love him?
He’d always known she was beautiful. From the second he had awoken to her voice, he had known that. But seeing her tonight, black silken ringlets piled high on her head, jade eyes flashing beneath the makeup, that mouth expertly made up this time, she was more than beautiful…
She was royal.
Befitting any Prince or King and, Benito thought pensively as they rode the short distance to the palace in silence, more deserving of any title than he was.
Even if her world was smaller than his, even if she had offered her services tonight, her intent was noble—Alisa, a woman who would sacrifice herself for her family, used the power vested in her wisely to forge a better life.
How, Benito thought as the car turned toward the palace, he wished he could say the same for himself.
The streets were lined with onlookers, young and old, all jostling for a glimpse of their beloved royals, waving the Niroli flag as each car swept up to the palace entrance, cheering and applauding when the elegant couples stepped out.
Cheering her.
The gossip had spread like wildfire through Niroli; Maria’s family, personal dressers, booking clerks gleeful whispers, all fanning the flames as the rumor spread from village to village.
A housekeeper was sleeping with a prince.
A poor housekeeper with a bastard child had stolen Prince Benito’s heart.
The shock, the scorn, the scandal were pushed aside as he led her like a lamb to the slaughter up the impressive palace steps, his hand guiding her softly, his low voice telling her to turn around and wave.
“Did I tell you that you look beautiful?”
“Never.” He watched as curled eyelashes blinked back emotion, her skillfully painted lips forcing a brave smile as she waved to the cheering masses. Never had he hated himself more.
Tonight, Benito realized as he stared out into the ecstatic crowd, she was a princess in waiting, yet the moment he left, the same people would be jeering her.
Tomorrow she would be a whore.
She was a dreamer.
And even if it got her into trouble at times, tonight it helped.
Helped to close her eyes and pretend that this was forever, made it easier to imagine that the arms that were holding her tonight would still be there tomorrow, that this sensual, complicated man could be hers to love always.
Feasting on the delicacies, dancing to the music, laughing softly at private jokes, lost in their own world, they made the most beautiful couple. Alisa, demure yet somehow bold, brave enough to make small talk with dignitaries. For the first time Benito questioned the impossible.
Could he have her, not as his lover or mistress, but as his wife?
For the first time in his shallow existence, Benito wasn’t thinking about himself, or his royal duty or whether his family could accept her. Holding her in his arms, feeling her heart flutter against his chest, feeling her so delicate but so strong beneath his fingers…Benito was thinking about her.
If this stubborn, fiery, proud woman could actually accept him.
“I need to talk with you about our arrangement.” Benito said.
“I thought we would be too busy for talking?”
“Alisa, don’t…” His eyes implored her to listen, his arms wrapped around her as they danced. “I am the same—one night is not enough for me.”
The pause between dances was suddenly welcome. Tears flashing in her eyes, Alisa walked off a touch too quickly.
“You do not walk away from me!” Benito met her at the edge of the dance floor as she accepted a glass of champagne.
“I’ll try to remember my place,” Alisa snapped. “But you’ll have to remind me where it is, Benito. Am I supposed to be making your bed or lying in it?”
“Don’t talk like a tart!”
“But that’s what you make me!” Her face was white beneath her makeup. “You dictate the terms, you tell me how much you are prepared to give and I am supposed to demurely accept—”
“Benito! Come sta?” Prince Luca Fierezza, a pretty blonde thing on his arm, either didn’t notice or didn’t care that his cousin was clearly having words with his date—no doubt it was par for the course with this pair.
“Signora Moretti, I am sorry to intrude,” Giovanni, one of the waiters, a man Alisa had worked alongside for years, was wooden and formal now when he approached her, as unsure of her new status as Alisa was.
“What’s wrong, Giovanni?” Alisa asked.
“There is a call for you…” He gave a small cough, and Alisa’s world stopped when she saw his expression. “It is your neighbor calling from the hospital. She knows she should not disturb you tonight—she says she is aware how important it is that you stay—but she thinks it is only right that you know. Marietta has just been hospitalized.”
Alisa’s only thought was to get to her.
It didn’t matter that she was at a grand ball; it didn’t matter that this was her ticket to a better future.
Without Marietta there was no future.
The last piece of her family, the one person she had in the world, was ill and scared and needed her.
As Alisa fled out of the ballroom, for a moment it did enter her head to tell Benito where she was going, but what was the point?
His face blurred as she dashed past. She could see him talking with Luca—two rogues, two playboys, together. What did they care about the real world? Benito wanted her body, not her problems.
He’d made that perfectly clear.
“She seems upset!” Luca drawled as Alisa ran from the ballroom. “Very careless, Benito. Usually you wait till morning to tell them it is finished.”
“I was trying to tell her otherwise.” Benito took a deep breath. “Unfortunately for me, I choose to fall in love with the one woman in Niroli who fails to be impressed with my title.”
“She will soon come around.” Luca shrugged. “Being a prince’s mistress has its perks.”
“I don’t want her as my mistress.” Benito gave a wry smile at his cousin’s shocked expression, but Luca soon recovered, and with acquired skill, palmed off his date and collected a glass of champagne as Benito braced himself for the scorn.
It never came.
“Why are you still here?” Luca asked.
“I have never run after a woman.”
“You’ve never needed to.”
Need. There was that word again. What was it Alisa had said? Need was about obligation, fulfilling one’s duties. He had no obligation to her. Her duty was supposedly to him…and yet…he’d expected contempt from Luca, a derisive laugh. Luca, who should be the last to understand how he felt, actually was the first.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness!” Giovanni apologized profusely as he approached to the two princes. “I would never normally interrupt on such an occasion, however, when I heard the child’s health was so critical, I felt I had no choice—”
“The child!” Benito’s face was as pale as his shirt. “Marietta?”
“She stopped breathing.”
Benito knew the hospital well.
Even though he lived in Contarini, many events had seen him rush along these corridors: his sister’s horrific boating accident, royal births, deaths… Yes, Benito knew the polished floors of the hospital too well…
Or he thought he did.
The incredulous face of the nurse as he swung into the dimly lit children’s ward would stay in his mind forever.
His dark eyes scanned the two rows of beds as the contrite nurse scuttled behind him.
“I thought she had stopped breathing, that she…”
“She did.” Alisa held the pale hand of her sister’s more tightly. “But she is better now.”
“Where’s the doctor?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?” He raked a hand through his hair, struggled to keep his voice and breathing regular. Where the hell was everyone? “He must have said something?”
“Not to me!” Her worried jade eyes met his, bitterness soaking her words. “We’re not in the royal wing. The nurse says that Marietta is to rest. She needs to have medicine through a drip. Had I bought her here sooner…”
“It’s not your fault.” For the first time Benito noticed the elderly lady sitting quietly in a chair. Saw her face turn unseeing to Alisa’s. “I was the one who said to wait.”
“And I was the one out dancing and…” Alisa didn’t finish—couldn’t—her eyes closing in regret as elusive doctors, administrative staff and porters all scrambled like fighter pilots toward Marietta’s bed. Now that royalty was here, she didn’t have to wait. And for Benito, utter realization hit. The disparity Alisa had eluded to had never been more apparent than it was now.
Staring down at little Marietta, the strain and effort in her tired face as she struggled to just breathe, he asked himself, Why was this small life less precious?
Living off Benito’s scraps mightn’t be so bad.
Seeing Marietta’s usually pale face rosy and laughing as she sat up in bed in her private room, playing with the doll Benito had bought her, Alisa knew, not for the first time, she’d been too hasty declining his offer to be his mistress. Even if her heart bled for the other twenty-nine children lying in the children’s ward, even if the injustice enraged her, Alisa knew she couldn’t change the world.
But she could change Marietta’s.
“Come back to the villa,” Benito suggested. “Have a bath and lie down…”
“I don’t want to leave her.”
“Prince Benito is right.” Bella’s voice was insistent. “You have sat by her bed for two days now. You need a little rest.”
Rest! Alisa managed a wry smile at Bella’s innocent statement. Benito’s eyes had been on her all morning. Unshaven, dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked so sleek and brooding, so taut with tension she could feel the restless male energy that filled the room. Bed maybe on his agenda for her but sleeping certainly wasn’t!
It felt surreal having the front door opened for her. A butler she didn’t recognize led her straight to the royal bedroom.
“Alberto is spending time with his wife,” Benito explained.
Bizarre, too, to sit shivering on the edge of his chaise lounge as Bianca ran her a long, hot bath.
“I thought she had been fired.”
“I had her reinstated.” Benito answered.
“You seem to have taken on a lot of charity cases.” Alisa’s smile was tight.
“There is much to put right.”
Alisa didn’t dwell on his statement as she headed for the bathroom. Grateful to peel off the rags Bella had bought her to change into, she was not too tired to be mortified at her own reflection—her hair was still stiff with lacquer from Saturday’s ball, and her eyes were two black circles of exhaustion and old makeup.
The oiled, scented water was blissful on her tired, aching body—too soothing, though, Alisa thought wearily. She was nowhere near ready for the sexual marathon Benito clearly had in mind. She wished she could recapture the fervor that had gripped her on the boat, reminding herself over and over that, in a few moments, she would be in the arms of the man she loved.
Levering herself out of the bath and bypassing the vast bath sheet and robe that had carefully been laid out for her, she instead wrapped herself in a small towel. Combing her hair, squirting scent on her neck and bosom, Alisa took a deep breath and prayed that today her goods were, for Benito, good enough.
“Thank you.” He was still standing where she had left him, his eyes looking somewhere over her shoulder as she crossed the room toward him. “Thank you for taking such good care of Marietta…” Nervously she stood in front of him, wishing he would take the lead and take her in his arms, but knowing it was probably her turn to now. “For taking such good care of me.”
On tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his, closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, wishing he would reciprocate, wishing he wouldn’t make this so dammed hard. Drawing on ten minutes’ experience, she tried to duplicate their past kiss, her tongue probing his lips, trying to part his rigid mouth.
“Stop!” His voice was sharp. Two hands grabbed at her wrists and pulled them down to her side. “The guest room is being prepared, clothes are being bought for you now. Put on your robe, and I will summon the butler.”
“I don’t understand…” Alisa said. “I thought you wanted—”
“I don’t want duty.” He was practically shouting, his hands on her shoulders literally shaking her with frustration. “This is no way for a prince’s bride to behave….”
“Bride?” She laughed, actually laughed, at the impossibility of it.
“I told you I wanted to talk, I told you—”
“You were going to ask me to be your wife?”
“What did you think I was going to ask?” He shook his head in exasperation. “I know I have been a selfish. I know I am spoiled and careless with people. I understand your doubt. All I can promise is that I will change, that I see now that I have ignored the true duties in being royal. I want you beside me, Alisa. I want you to show me what is wrong and right—to make things better. I will move to Niroli if that is your concern…I will arrange Marietta’s care, Bella’s surgery…“
She could scarcely take it in. Benito wasn’t offering her his dregs. He didn’t want just a bride, but a partnership… If it wasn’t so impossible, if it wasn’t so unfeasible, she could almost believe that he…
“I love you, Alisa.” His words were like a welcome kiss, a warm blanket engulfing her as she fled from a storm. “I love you because you are you, because you would give everything you have to make other’s lives better, because you make me laugh and you make me see sense…“
She looked up at him. “I can’t.”
When he closed his eyes in regret, Benito missed out on her tiny smile. “As you know, I don’t care much for duty and for what’s expected, so I hope you’ll understand when I say I can’t possibly go to the guest room now!”
He loved her.
Hands that were still shaking, but for entirely different reasons now, worked their way to his beautiful, haughty face. The sexual energy she had found almost impossible to summon earlier flowed through her veins readily, making loving him so much easier when it was all that was wanted.
“It is not the right thing…” He closed his eyes as she rained butterfly kisses on his face. She heard his low growl of frustration as he struggled to resist. “As my future wife you should stay in the guest room…”
Who was this woman? Alisa wondered as her fingers slid beneath his top to the taut planes of his chest. Who was this daring, wanton being, who had Prince Benito pleading for mercy? Rather than dutifully leaving, she insisted they arrive.
“Can’t a princess like it, too?”
“You’re going to love it.” He halted her amazing progress with demands of his own. His throaty promise leaving her trembling, the skimpy towel a white puddle on the floor as he sank to his knees and repeated his proposal this time. Then, with every stroke of his tongue, every measured touch of his hands ensuring that this time when gently he slid just a little inside her, Alisa was not only willing but pleadingly ready, his caution unnecessary but delicious.
“I’ve missed you.” With a deeper thrust, he entered her body and her soul felt healed. “All my life I have missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too…” She had missed, without ever knowing, the importance of being important in another’s life.
With every tender thrust he completed her. The heady balms of their orgasm shared but somehow private.
Both entering home for the first time.
The End