A Throne for the Taking (13 page)

He had always known that this was going to be hard and the conversation they had just had, the trust she had honoured him with, would only make things so much worse. But he also knew that it was the only way he could do things. The way she was looking at him, eyes bright behind that white satin mask, was going to destroy him if he didn’t get things out in the open—fast.

But if ever there was a time that he owed someone the truth then it was now.

‘This isn’t going to work.’

He could see her recoil, eyes closing, the hand she had put on his snatched away abruptly.

‘What isn’t working?’

‘Everything. The engagement—the marriage—you as my queen. Everything.’

‘But I don’t understand.’ He was giving her what he knew she wanted but she wasn’t making things easy for him. ‘We’ve already announced the engagement. Tonight...’

‘I know. Tonight we are supposed to face the court, the nobility and every last one of the foreign diplomats in the country. Tonight is to mark the first step on to the final public stage of this whole damn king business.’

Tonight they would face the world as a royal couple—the future of the country. The potential royal family. And that was where one great big problem lay. A problem that had grown deeper and darker since this morning. Could he and this woman, this gorgeous, sexy woman, ever be more than the passionate lovers they had been in the past weeks? Could they ever become a
family?

Family. That was the word that showed him what he wanted most and why he could not ever allow himself to think of letting this continue.

He had always wanted a family. The family he’d hoped to find when they had first come to Mecjoria. The one that had been denied him when his father had died and all that had followed. That was why he had begged Mariette not to have the abortion she’d wanted. Why he’d fallen in love with his little daughter from the moment the doctors had first put her in his arms just after the birth. Memories of Belle and all that he’d lost with her were like a dark bruise on his thoughts. The accusations Ria had flung at him this morning had brought those terrible memories rushing back, so that he hadn’t been able to stay and face them down. And even now, when he knew she understood—more so
because
she’d understood—he knew he couldn’t keep her trapped with him, not like this. She deserved so much better.

The accusation of trapping her that she’d flung at him was so appallingly justified, and the thought stuck in his throat, made acid burn in his stomach. He’d pushed her into a situation that took all her options, any trace of choice away from her. What made him think that she would want marriage to him any more than she would want to become Ivan’s bride? It was true that the country benefited from the arranged marriage but, hell and damnation, he could have handled it so much better.

Did he really want a bride who looked so tense whenever they were alone—unless they were in bed together? A queen who held herself so stiffly that she looked as if she might break into a thousand brittle pieces if he touched her? A woman who, like his own mother, had been used as just a pawn in the power games of court? He had forced Mariette into a situation that she didn’t want, and the end result had been a total tragedy. He could not do that to Ria.

‘Tell me one thing.’ He had to hear it from her own lips. ‘Would you have agreed to marry me if I hadn’t made it a condition of my accepting the throne?’

‘I...’ She swallowed down the rest of her answer but he didn’t need it. Her hesitation, the way her eyes dodged away from his, told their own story. If he followed this path any longer he was no better—in fact, worse—than her father. He would be using her for his own ends, keeping her a prisoner when she wanted so desperately to fly free.

‘I can’t ask this of you.’

‘You didn’t ask,’ Ria flung at him. ‘You commanded.’

Was that weak, shaken voice really her own? Once again she had retreated behind false flippancy to disguise the way she was really feeling. The way that her life, the future she had thought was hers, had crumbled around her, the dreams she had just allowed herself to let into her mind evaporating in the blink of an eye. But she had let them linger for a moment and the bite of loss was all the more agonising because of that.

Reject that! Please. Argue with me,
she begged him in her thoughts. But Alexei was nodding his head, taking her word as truth.

‘And you had no choice but to agree. Well, I’m giving you that choice now. I never should have asked you to marry me. I don’t need you to validate my position as king. The engagement is off—it should never have happened. You’re free to go.’

‘Free...’

The room swung round her violently, her eyes blurring, her breath escaping in a wild, shaken gasp. If this was freedom then she wanted none of it.

‘Tonight? Right here and now?’

How did he manage to make the most appalling things sound as if he was giving her exactly what she wanted? Their eyes came together, burnished black clashing with clouded jade, and the ruthless conviction in his totally defeated her. She was dismissed, discarded, just like that.

‘But what about...?’

In the hallway the gong sounded once again, summoning them. The sound made Alexei shake his head, his eyes closing briefly.

‘How could I have been so bloody stupid?’ He groaned. ‘I’m sorry, Ria. I had meant to talk to you after the ball, but...’ His eyes dropped to the photograph of Belle he still held in his hand. ‘Things knocked me off-balance. Now everyone is here.’

‘Why?’

It was the one thing she could hold on to. The one thing that had registered in the storm of misery that assailed her. Alexei had decided that he didn’t need to marry her—that he didn’t want to marry her.
He didn’t want her.
And there was no way she could fight back against that.

‘Sorry for what?’ Somehow she forced herself to ask it. ‘Why did you plan to tell me
after
the ball?’

His expression was almost gentle and if it hadn’t been for the bleakness of his eyes she might almost have believed that he was the Alexei of ten years before. The Alexei she had first fallen in love with.

‘Because it was your dream,’ he stated flatly. ‘You always wanted to attend the Black and White Ball.’ Just for a second, shockingly, the corner of his mouth quirked up into something that was almost a smile. ‘You even trained for long hours with Madam Herone just for it. I wanted this to be for you.’

‘But the engagement?’ She didn’t know how she had found the strength to speak. She wasn’t even sure how she was managing to stay upright, except that she couldn’t give in. She couldn’t just collapse into the pathetic, despondent little heap that she felt she had become since he had declared he no longer wanted to marry her.

‘After the ball, we would announce that you had changed your mind about marrying me.’

That she had changed her mind. He had thought of everything. But at least he would have left her with some pride by making it seem that she was the one who had ended their relationship. Not that she had been jilted, as she had just been. And for years he had remembered how much she had wanted to go to the ball, and had planned to give her that at least.

It wasn’t much, not compared with the lifetime, the love, she had dreamed of. But it was all she was going to get. And, weak and foolish as she was, she knew in her heart that she was going to reach for it. For one last evening with Alexei. For one last night, this Cinderella was going to the ball with the man she loved.

Drawing on every ounce of her strength, she straightened her spine.

‘You’ve obviously thought it all through. We’ll do that, then.’ She hoped she sounded calm, convincing. If he was giving her her freedom, then she could give him his. She wouldn’t beg or cling. If her father had ever taught her anything worthwhile then it was dignity, even in defeat.

Below them they heard the third and final sound of the gong that preceded their arrival in the ballroom. It was now or never.

‘Let’s go.’

The journey down the wide, sweeping stairs seemed to take a lifetime. Alexei had offered her his arm for support and she managed to force herself to take it, knowing that the stinging film of tears she would not allow herself to shed blurred her vision and made her steps uncertain without his support. And if just having this one last chance to touch him, to hold on to his strength, was a personal indulgence, then that was her private business. An indulgence that she was never going to admit to anyone but keep hidden in the secrecy of her thoughts, stored up against the time when this was no longer possible and memories of how it had felt to be so close to him, to look into his beloved face, were all she had left.

At the bottom of the staircase the Lord Chamberlain was waiting, saying nothing, but the look of carefully controlled concern on his face told them that the world of ceremony and court appearances had already been delayed for long enough.

‘Sir...’

Alexei’s hand came up, commanding silence.

‘I know. We’re coming.’

Reaching out, he took Ria’s fingers again, folding his own around them as he nodded his head in the direction of the huge doors to the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and gold-decorated walls were hidden behind the huge double doors, but the buzz of a thousand conversations, the sound of so many feet moving on the polished floor, gave away the fact that their arrival was expected and waited for with huge anticipation.

‘Duty calls. Are you sure you want to go through with this?’ he murmured.

‘Do we have any choice? Right now Mecjoria is what matters,’ she managed to assure him, keeping her head high, her eyes now wide and dry.

‘Then let’s do this.’

They took a step forward, another. Two footmen stepped forward to take hold of the large metal handles, one on each side of the door.

And then, totally unexpectedly, Alexei stopped, looked straight into her face.

‘You really are a queen,’ he told her, low, husky and intent.

It was meant as a compliment, she knew, and her smile in reply was slow and tinged with the regret that was eating her alive.

‘Just not your queen,’ she managed, wishing that it was not the truth and knowing that all the wishing in the world would never ease away the agony of loss that was tearing her up inside.

As she spoke the big doors swung open and the buzz of talk and noise rose to a crescendo of excitement. Alexei took her hand in his as they walked forward into the ballroom, putting on the act of the fairy-tale couple for one last time.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

U
NDER
ANY
OTHER
circumstances, it would have
been a magical night.

Everything that Ria had ever imagined or dreamed about the
Black and White Ball had come true, and most of it had been beyond her wildest
imaginings. The huge ballroom was beautifully decorated, the lights from a dozen
brilliant crystal chandeliers sparkling over the array of elegant men and women,
all dressed, as the convention for the night demanded, in the most stylish
variations on the purely monochrome theme of dress. They might be confined to
black and white but the fabulous couture gowns, the brilliant jewels and, most
of all, the stunningly decorated masks meant that everyone looked so different,
so amazing, creating a stunning image in the room as a whole. One that was
reflected over and over in the huge mirrored walls.

There was food and wine, glorious, delicious food for all she
knew. But none of it passed her lips, and she barely drank a thing. She was
strung tight as a wire on the atmosphere, the sensations of actually being here,
like this. With Alexei. But at the same time those sensations were sharpened
devastatingly by the terrible undercurrent of powerful emotion, the icy burn of
pain that came from knowing that the man beside her was the love of her life,
her reason for breathing, but that when this night was over he was expecting her
to go, walk out of his life for ever.

From the moment they had walked into the room, and paused at
the top of the short flight of steps that lead down the highly polished floor,
all eyes had been on them. Just their appearance had triggered off a blinding
fusillade of camera flashes that made her head spin and had her clutching at
Alexei’s arm for support. For long minutes afterwards she was still blinking to
clear away the spots in her vision and bring her gaze back into focus properly.
And he was there, at her side, silently supporting her, seeming to know
instinctively just when she was able to see again clearly, when she could stand
on her own two feet and turn her attention to the crowds of statesmen,
dignitaries and nobility who thronged the room.

That was when Alexei carefully eased his way away from her
side, resting his hand on hers just once as he turned her towards another group
of guests. A faint inclination of his head, the touch of his hand at the base of
her spine, spoke volumes without words. For this one night, still his fiancée,
officially soon to be his queen, she should mix with their guests, socialise,
talk with them. And he knew she could do it. Knew he didn’t have to stay with
her. Instead he headed off in the opposite direction, working the room. And the
bittersweet rush of pride at the thought that he knew she wouldn’t let him down
helped Ria’s feet move, warmed her smile when all the time she was feeling
broken and dead inside.

She had no idea how much time had passed when they met up
again. Only that he came to find her just at the point she had started to flag.
When her mouth was beginning to ache with smiling, when her fund of small talk
was beginning to dry up. Just when she felt she’d had enough, suddenly he was
there by her side.

‘Dance with me,’ he said softly, and she turned to him, feeling
as she gave him her hand and he lead her out on to the dance floor that, for
her, the evening had really just truly begun.

With his arms round her, warm and strong, his strength
supporting her, the scent of his skin in her nostrils, she barely felt as if her
feet were on the ground any longer. She was all talked out, unable to find any
words to say to him. But Alexei didn’t appear to need conversation; seemed
instead, like her, to be content to remain in their own silent bubble.

She had wanted to be here so much. Had dreamed of being here in
so many ways—at the Black and White Ball, at the start of a new reign for the
country, with the succession secured, with Mecjoria safe. With Ivan kept from
the throne and Alexei, a strong, honest, powerful ruler, in his place. Here with
the man she loved.

And that was when her thoughts stumbled to a halt. Where her
mind seemed to blow a fuse and she could go no further, could not get past the
thought of how much she loved this man. How much she wanted to be in his arms,
and stay there for ever. At this moment she felt that she wouldn’t even ask for
his love in return. Just to stay with him, love him would be enough.

But already the clock was ticking towards the end of the
convenient engagement Alexei had decided he no longer needed. Like Cinderella,
she had until midnight before all the magic in her life disappeared and she
found she was once more back in reality, all her dreams shattered around her.
Already, an hour or more of the last remaining precious time she had with Alexei
had passed and try as she might she couldn’t hold back a single minute of the
little that was left.

‘Enjoying yourself?’

Alexei asked the question strangely stiffly, his breath warm
against her ear, her cheek pressed close to his. She could only nod silently in
answer, not daring to look up into his face, meet his eyes through the black
silk mask. It would destroy her if she did. She would shatter into tiny pieces
right here on the polished floor.

Enjoying yourself!
Alexei couldn’t
believe he had been stupid enough to ask the inane question. The same one that
he had asked a dozen, a hundred, times already that evening. It was the sort of
polite, formal small talk that he used to put people at their ease, to make them
feel that he had noticed them, that he appreciated the fact that they were
there. It was for the Mecjorian nobility, the foreign dignitaries, the press
even.

It was not for Ria. Not for this woman who he now held in his
arms for perhaps the last time and who, at the end of this evening, would walk
out of his life and into her own future—totally free for the first time
ever.

Because how could he not notice Ria when she looked so
stunningly beautiful, when she was all his private sensual fantasies come at
once? How could he not appreciate what she was, who she was, when she had been
there with him, always at his side, always offering her support through the long
weeks since she had come to him with the news that he was king? Because it was
right.

That was why he had known tonight that he had only one way
forward. That, like Ria, he had to do what was right. Right for her, even if
everything that was in him ached in protest at the thought. He had forced her
into the marriage that he had believed would bring him the satisfaction he
craved. It had brought him all that satisfaction—and more. So much more. But to
keep her in such a marriage would be like chaining up some beautiful, exotic
wild creature.

She would die in captivity. And he couldn’t bear to see that
happen to her. So tonight he was setting her free.

But first he would have just a few more hours to dance with
her, hold her, maybe even kiss her. In spite of himself, he let his arms tighten
round her, drew her soft warmth closer, inhaled the perfume of her skin against
his. The bittersweet delight of it made his body burn in a hunger that he knew
would have him lying awake through the night, and many more long, empty nights
when this was done. He had until midnight. A few more hours to pretend that she
was still his.

His! The lie cut terribly deep. The truth was that Ria had
never been his. And that was why tonight had been inevitable, right from the
start. But everything that was in him rebelled at the thought.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let her go.

Ria was so lost in her thoughts, in the deep sensual awareness
of being held so close to Alexei that at first the flurry of interest was just
like a blur at the edge of her consciousness. She heard the buzz of sound as if
it was that of a swarm of bees somewhere far distant, on the horizon but coming
closer, growing louder, with every second.

Uncharacteristically, Alexei’s smooth steps in the waltz
stumbled slightly, hesitated, slowed. She heard him mutter a low toned, dark,
fierce curse, the furious, ‘Too early. Too damn early,’ and suddenly the whole
dance was stuttering to a halt as the murmur around them grew, as if that swarm
of bees was coming closer, dangerously so.

‘Escalona...’

On a sense of shock she heard her own name muttered over and
over again. But once or twice it came with an addition that startled her,
shocked her into stillness, bringing her head up and round.

‘It’s Gregor Escalona. And his wife.’

Beside her Alexei had stilled, his powerful body freezing in
shock and rejection. She could almost feel the pulse of anger along the length
of his frame. It was there in the tightening of the hand that held hers, the
extra pressure of the one now clamped against her spine, the delicate dancer’s
hold replaced by something that felt disturbingly like imprisonment, a fierce
control that shocked and upset her.

‘Alexei...’ she began, her use of his name clashing with the
way he said hers.

‘Ria...’

It shocked her because it sounded so rough, so ominous it made
her heart thump nervously. Instinctively she wrenched herself out of his
constraining hold, swivelling round against the pressure of his hands. Her
vision blurring in disbelief, she could only stand and stare as she tried to
take in the impossible reality of what she saw.

‘
Mum!
And—and—’

And her father.

Her father who had just made his way into the room and was now
standing at the top of the steps, her mother beside him. He looked paler,
thinner, diminished somehow, though nothing like as pale and wan as Elizabetta
who was holding onto his arm for grim death, and seeming dangerously close to
collapsing in a heap on the floor if she loosened her grip. It couldn’t be real;
it was impossible. Her father was still locked away in the state prison, his
freedom dependent on her marriage to Alexei...

But there wasn’t going to be a marriage any more.

‘Ria.’

Alexei’s hands were on her shoulders, straining to turn her
round, working against the instinctive resistance she put up. She couldn’t
believe what was happening. Why this was happening? Why they were there?

‘Ria, look at me!’

One hand had come up in a slashing gesture to silence the
orchestra and the whole room was suddenly still and frozen. In the quiet, the
note of command was enough to take the strength from her. Her shoulders slumped
and she found herself swung back again to face him, trapped in the sudden
circles of isolation that had formed round them as every one of the other
dancers froze, silently watching.

She had only a moment to look up into his dark, shuttered face,
see the glare of fury he directed at her father, before he moved again suddenly,
stunning her by going down on one knee right there in front of her. In front of
the whole crowded ballroom.

Alexei—don’t.
She tried to open her
mouth to say the words but nothing would come out. She knew just what was coming
and she couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t cope with this. Not now; not like this.

Please, not like this...

She wanted to run but Alexei’s grip tightened around it,
holding her still. But what held her stiller was the deep, dark gaze that
clashed with hers from behind the black silk mask.

‘Ria, I didn’t do this right last time. I want to do it
properly now. I want your family—all the country—to know that I want you to be
my queen. I don’t want to be king without you at my side.’

‘No...’ She tried again but her voice was only a thin thread of
sound, buried under the buzz of curiosity, the murmurs of incredulity and
interest that came from their audience who were clearly hanging on to every
word.

‘Ria—will you marry me?’

Was the room really swinging round her, lurching nauseously, or
was that just the rush of shock and panic to her head? She could see that her
parents had been prevented from moving forward, the security guard putting a
restraining hand on her father’s arm, her mother stopping at his side though her
eyes were fixed on her daughter’s face. She saw the stunned, astonished, the
frankly curious expressions on the faces of those around them, expressions that
even the concealing masks could not disguise. And there, at her feet, was
Alexei...

Alexei, the man she loved and whose proposal she would have so
loved to hear—if only he had meant it. But not like this! Only this evening he
had told her that he didn’t want to marry her, that he was breaking off their
engagement, that it was over. So this...

So this could only be some cold-blooded political statement. A
statement of power in front of every dignitary, every statesman at the ball.

The conditions were that I would free your
father when you became my wife. Call it a wedding day gift from
me.

Oh, why did she have to remember that? But it had to be what
was behind it—the need to show the world, the court and her father, that Alexei
was the one with the power. That he was totally in control.

Here she was, with the whole court hanging on her every word,
with her parents looking on. The freedom—temporary, surely—her father was
enjoying hit home to her how easily Alexei could change everything, order
everything with a flick of his head just as he had silenced the orchestra just
moments before.

He had presented her with an ultimatum. Accept his proposal,
here in the most public place possible, or everything he held over her would
fall into place in the most appalling way.

She had thought that she couldn’t face a future without him in
it. But how could she ever have a future with a man who would force her hand in
this way? Who would go to these lengths to emphasise the power he had over
her?

‘I can’t!’ she gasped, tasting the salt of her own tears
sliding into her mouth as she flung the words into the silence, not daring to
look into Alexei’s face to see the effect they had as they landed. ‘I won’t
marry you! And you can’t make me!’