The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (41 page)

In denying himself, he had been half a man.

He now chose to be a whole man.

His imperfections did not loom so terribly at him, did not threaten his very existence. Imperfections that he had assumed to be the cause of his abandonment. He saw now that he did have a connection to something or Someone greater than himself. He had been guided all his life. He had had Esteban, who truly loved him, and now, when he needed her, this extraordinary woman had come into his life and shown him that joy was within him. That hope was within him.

That
life
was within him.

There was a magnificence to his life and to his existence that he had never before grasped. He saw his own strength and wisdom.

He was brought forcibly back into the serenade. She was drawing a line down his lips, then his chin, with her fingertip.

She was
touching
him in the middle of this stunning music. What could she be thinking? Did she wish to make him lose all sense of reality?

“Nicolette,” he murmured, “don’t, I beg you…” This was his one true weakness. He didn’t want his tainted nature to color an otherwise beautiful moment. She was too special, too dear, to view in such a debased way, such a one-dimensional way. She was the most amazing woman he had ever known—or would ever know.

But she increased her efforts, swaying and singing to perfection, the range and intensity of her voice devastating to him at this range. Her sultry voice reverberated through his blood.

There had never been any doubt. He had always desired her, from the moment he had first seen her. He could no longer hide from the truth.

She absolutely awakened every part of him.

And yet he believed, no, he knew, that he could control his impulses. Did he not understand discipline above all else? He had had no incentive to do so with other women. But with Nicolette, he must.

She was his treasure.

And then something unexpected happened, and he thought he would explode. She sat in his lap, one leg draped to the side. She ran her fingers along his muscular arms. What was she playing at? What could she be thinking? This was too much. There was such a thing as making a person feel he was on the stage with the singer, but this was beyond the illusion.

He was in a dream, his desire was raging, and she stopped singing and she kissed him. Gently at first. But he could not be gentle with her. He put his arms around her waist and pressed her close to his chest. She put her arms around his neck and then began running her fingers through his hair as she kissed him back. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she responded in kind. He was sure then that he would go mad. He felt the fullness of her breasts against his chest as if it were the first time he had ever had such a sensation.

“Alejandro,” she whispered.

It was heavenly to hear his name from her lips. He stared at her. She was so beautiful in his arms, her black hair falling all about her shoulders, her beautiful breasts visible to him.

He began tenderly kissing those exquisite breasts. She gasped and then pulled his lips to hers. He longed to take her breasts into his mouth and tease her into ecstasy. He was insane for this woman. He ran kisses along her cheek. She leaned her head back and gasped.

He tore off his cashmere cutaway jacket and threw it to the ground, the white-rose boutonniere flying from the jacket. She loosened the maroon silk tie and threw it as well to the ground, unbuttoning his shirt. He ran his hand along her hips and her thighs, slowly caressing every inch of her thighs, desperate to rip the dress that separated them and to caress the inside of her thighs. He took her hips into his hands and pushed them closer. Her eyes opened wide as if she were startled, and then she closed them blissfully.

And she was on fire. She was the fire to his ice. Only he didn’t feel so cold this evening.

Oh, God, what was he doing? She could not be a release for him, a game. She had either to be his wife or nothing at all.

And she could not be his wife.

“Nicolette, why are you doing this?” he grunted, hating himself, leaping from the chair and placing her in it in one swift movement. “I never wanted to debase you.”

“Because I want you to feel
fire
.” She appeared dazed, as if she were coming out of a dream.

“I do, believe me, Nicolette. You have no idea.”

“First you were so involved in the music, and then I saw you drifting away, once again unreachable.” She shook her head. “I thought if I could make you feel desire, I could bring you back. Bring you back to
me. Bring you back to yourself.”

“You did.” He began to pace the terrace, running his hand through his hair, even as he kept his eyes glued to her every curve.

“And then—I can’t explain it myself—for some inexplicable reason, I thought that I might like to know sensual passion…rapture.” Her lips formed a quivering smile. She stood beside him, running her palms slowly across his chest, causing a sensation to strike through him. “I am ashamed to admit it, Alejandro.
Never
before, even as a child, have I ever compromised my performance. I forgot about my performance!”

“What were you thinking of instead?” he asked quietly.

“I forgot about everything but my need for
you
.”

He closed his eyes, willing her to stop. It was too much. All he wanted in the world was to be needed the way she needed him. She was an independent woman, pure and wild, who desired
him
.

“Anything so strong that it could make me forget my obligations to music, I wanted to experience. And then, all in an instant, I truly felt that I had not forsaken my performance at all. I somehow knew—just as my mother knows things she shouldn’t know. I felt that our needs are one and the same.”

He groaned. She could not have had a greater impact on him had she been the most experienced courtesan of all history.

“What is the matter, Alejandro?” she asked, puzzlement written all over her face.

“Everything. And nothing. I cannot marry you, Nicolette. I am promised to Spain.”

“Marry me?” She laughed, tilting her head and looking up at him through lush, dark eyelashes. “I never expected that, nor do I wish it.”

“Then why would you…” He turned to stare at her.

“Your reputation precedes you, Alejandro. There is no reason that we should not make love.”

Passion had caused her to imagine whatever feelings she thought she had for him. He could not take her virginity from her. But if she were as experienced as she appeared…

“Nicolette, are you a virgin?” he demanded abruptly, feeling his jaw tighten, surprised at his lack of composure. That seemed to be the order of the day.

“A virgin? Me?” She blushed and looked away for an instant, forcing a laugh. “I’ll have you know that the city’s most eligible bachelors throw themselves at my feet, Alejandro.”

He studied her face. She was the most straightforward woman he had ever met, and yet she had looked away and avoided a direct answer. He had no doubt of the answer to his question, and that answer pained him as much as any information ever had. The last time he had felt such a pit in his stomach was upon learning of the bombing of the Spanish Armada by the Americans following the explosion of the
Maine
.

“Nicolette, you are a passionate woman.” He sighed heavily and began to pace, forcing himself to keep some distance from her. “You live only for the moment and for your own pleasure. You would regret this tomorrow. I expect it seems romantic to bed a prince, but I am no different from any other man.”

He expected her to be furious, but he saw only cool assessment in her eyes. Her eyes moved along the full length of his body and then returned to his face. “My eyes tell me otherwise,” she replied softly.

He longed to take her in his arms again. She was so close.

Somehow he found the determination to take another step backward, testing all of his will.

“Alejandro, how do you do it?” Then came the fury he had long expected. “In an instant your discipline took over, and you became a statue again. In one minute you are a living, breathing man, and in the next you are dead. How do you do it? Why can you not stay with me?”

“I assure you, Nicolette, that I am not dead. I am very much alive and hurting.”

“Alejandro,” she commanded, her voice creating an ache in his heart, “I want you to make love to me now.”

“I cannot. It would be like raping a saint.”

“You know very well that I am not a saint and that I am a woman of many faults!”

“I cannot take this from you without marrying you, Nicolette.” He moved toward her, which he knew was a mistake.

“I would not marry you if you asked me, Alejandro! There is nothing in the world which could induce me to do so. Do you hear nothing that I say? Or is everyone a mere puppet in your imagination? I wish only to feel your passion. Your desire for
only me
. I ask for only
now
. And you cannot even give me that.” She turned away, clenching her fists.

“Nicolette, your virtue is too important to discard for one night of…of…”—he let his eyes take in every inch of her—“
ecstasy
.”

“My
virtue
?” She turned on him, running her hands along his arms, causing his skin to burn, and there was fire in her eyes as well. “If you make love to me, then I have lost my virtue? Explain this to me. The minute you have experienced every pleasure, then you have lost all respect for me?”

“Nicolette, you know very well that I am speaking of your reputation. You are not one of my ladybirds who knows full well what she is doing. If I cannot marry you, I should not make love to you. This is just a fleeting thought for you, the impulse of the moment. Don’t you ever think of the repercussions for tomorrow?”

She laughed, moving closer to him. “Alejandro, I am entitled to experience delight. Joy is
everyone’s
right and the purpose of life. How can this be any different?”

“Joy is important, but the
purpose
of life?” He shook his head. She might be an angel sent from God, but she was of a singular bent. She was like a sheltered child without thought for anything but her own pleasure, an endeavor which had the potential to cause her great harm. He was determined to look out for her. He owed her
everything
.

“Oh, let me guess, the purpose of life is duty.”

“Do you never think,
preciosa
, that you cannot do precisely what you wish and what pleases you?” As he watched her he breathed a sigh of relief at the same time he felt enormous regret.

“Do I
ever
…?
Oh!
I want to strangle…” Good. He might be in as much pain as ever, but he had transformed her lust to anger. She was furious.

“You think that I sing for
myself
? Do you see
nothing
, Alejandro? It is nothing about
me
. I am simply a channel through which the Creator flows.” She shook her fist at him. “Do you not see even yet, Alejandro? It is about experiencing joy. I express all these things in a believable way even though I might not have experienced them myself.”

Very
believable.

“This is art. This is music. This is God. I did not ask for this gift, but I would be a fool to refuse it.”

No doubt he was the fool.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Already I taste in spirit

the heights of tenderness!

Love trembles in our kiss!