The Prince's Housekeeper Bride (2 page)

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.