The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (60 page)

The memory of her marriage to me.

“No, it’s not over!” she exclaimed. “It is over for us, but what about the families who lost loved ones!”

“They have caught the man,” he whispered against her cheek. “He was a deranged madman.”

“I suppose that goes without saying.” Nicolette’s delicate lips formed a cold frown. She stood, separating herself from him, as if she had come to a decision.

“I mean to say, dearest, that the attack does not appear to have any support from any of the extreme political factions. Not only has no organization claimed responsibility, but all of the political factions without exception have criticized and condemned the assassination attempt, even groups who strongly oppose the monarchy, most notably the UGT.”

“The…UG…
what
?”

“The General Union of Workers, a Socialist organization.” He cleared his throat, embarrassed that he had been speaking to her as if she were one of his aides.

“W–who was the killer?” she managed to utter with difficulty. She nodded distractedly, her eyes not meeting his.

“An anarchist,” replied Alejandro. “He did not appear to have any associations with any group.”

“
No, Alejandro
,” she exclaimed with feeling, her voice escalating as she clenched her fists. She began pacing the room before turning toward him, fury in her eyes. “Give me a
name
. I want the name of the person who would kill children and maim innocent people.” Nicolette’s face grew redder. “I want to put a name to the person who found it so easy to not put a name to his victims.”

“Mateo Morral,” replied Alejandro, his heart pounding as he stared at her pacing the room and screaming, so different from the calm she had exhibited earlier.

“Where is this killer? Where is he being held?” she demanded, her expression furious. She appeared to have every intention of marching down to the jail cell herself that very night and telling Morral what she thought of him, and woe to the person who tried to stop her.

“He is dead,” Alejandro pronounced without emotion. “‘He appeared to be surrendering peacefully when he shot and killed the guard transporting him to Torrejón de Ardoz prison.’”

“He was compelled to destroy yet one more life. How could he?” she wailed. “
How could he
after what he did today? How could
anyone
?”

“The scoundrel then took his own life.” He took her hands in his, his expression serious. “It is a violent world we live in. There is much unrest in España.”

“Yes, yes, we spoke of this,” Nicolette murmured, “but I never thought…”

“You never thought violence would be directed at
you
.” He stared at her, his heart breaking. It should never have been allowed to get to this point.

“No, Alejandro.” She nodded, shuddering noticeably. Just as quickly, she shook her head defiantly. “I never did. Do you know that my grandparents could have been killed in that explosion? My mother? My younger brother?”

Alejandro nodded. Quietly he added, “Esteban is injured.”

“Oh, I should have thought!” Nicolette gasped, her eyes finally meeting his. He had longed for that these many hours, and it was like drink in the desert. Her pink, swollen lips parted slowly. “How is he, Alejandro?”

“He is well,” Alejandro replied, releasing his breath slowly. “He will recover in time.”

“We must go to him now!”

“He is being cared for. You need to rest.”

“
Never
. Never again.”

“I came so close to losing you today, Nicolette.” He stood, moving slowly toward her. Possibly she was ready to leave him. He no longer had any conviction about her heart. But he knew his own heart. He took her in his arms, his lips lost in her hair. “I don’t think I could have borne it.”

He stared into her eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea. Every fiber in his body longed to make love to her. His heart was hers, and he wanted her more than anything in the world.

“I don’t understand…
Why are we not dead, Alejandro
?”

“It is a miracle.” He shook his head. “There is no logical explanation. The bomb landed next to you…” He was choking on his words and stifling a sob. He clenched his fist even as he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He mustn’t let her see it. If she pitied him, he might not be able to persuade her—or to keep her safe.

“
Next to where I was sitting
.” She completed his sentence in a whisper, even as she pulled away from his embrace. “And so many others died…Did you see, Alejandro? Nothing was left of the carriage but the seat frame. And
us
.”

“I shall have the marriage annulled.” He didn’t know how he found the words, and yet he heard himself speak them. In that instant, he wished he had no tongue. “I cannot allow you to be in danger, Nicolette.”

She was his heaven, his life, and he knew that it would break his heart to live without her. But it was better to know that she lived in the world. He had never expected happiness, anyway. Not truly. It was a delusion, a wish, nothing more.

“I do not understand it, Alejandro.” Nicolette looked into his eyes, which he felt as a heavenly caress. She bit her lips, and tears welled up in her eyes. “When life is waiting to be lived, to be embraced. If someone is not happy, why do they desire to hurt someone else rather than finding joy for themselves? There is so much joy to be had in life,” she sobbed.

“Some need to insure that everyone else is as miserable as they are.”

“And he succeeded, Alejandro.” She sobbed, gasping for breath. “He met with
success
.” He took her into his arms as she convulsed. She had not replied. She was in accord with the annulment. He kissed her forehead. He would give her that one night of paradise she had so long desired—if she still wished it—and, in the morning, she would be gone forever.

“Well, I will not enter into the world of such a low, despicable creature.” She pulled away from him and looked into his eyes, fury and resolve blended into determination. “I won’t let him change me, Alejandro! I will not give him the satisfaction! Not while I am married to the most amazing man I have ever known.
Not while I still live
. Not while I have another moment of joy to embrace.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Breath of my life

and beating of my heart,

My soul's only delight!

Let me mingle

my tears with yours!

But more than ever, believe me

I need your true devotion.

So do not close your heart

to all hope.

—Giuseppe Verdi,
La traviata

“Alejandro, we will live and die
together
.” She stood up and went to the stone fireplace encircled by a small seating area. Over the fireplace was a large gilded mirror of gold. Her reflection presented an astonishing sight. Her eyes were swollen and red and her lips were puffy, not the appearance she had wished to present on her wedding night.

“I cannot risk your safety, Nicolette. I could not bear a world without you in it,” Alejandro stated gravely. “And España is troubled.”

“Of course,” she replied quietly. “Otherwise you would not be needed. If there were no need, God would not have destined you to be king of Spain.”

“I will not hold you to your promise, Nicolette.” He stared at her, his jaw hard.

“But I will hold you to yours.” She took his hand, turned it, and kissed his wrist. She sighed, picturing her glorious wedding dress, by now burned. Her eyes rose to meet his as she whispered, “The setting might not be made in heaven, but
you
are.”

“
Mi cielito
,” Alejandro whispered hoarsely. Without any hesitation he took her in his arms and pressed her body very close to his, as if he wanted to hold her forever, as if he had thought she might actually leave. He claimed her mouth with desperation, and she responded in kind. Nothing more was needed from her.

“As in opera, the story leaves much to be desired but the singers do not.” She giggled between kisses. She laughed for the first time since the explosion.

He trailed kisses along her neck, his love for her desperate. But she could feel that he was not actually aroused. His movements were almost mechanical, as if he were in a daze, as if he were yet again performing his duty. She knew that his love ran deep, but he was saddened and dismayed. He was deeply distraught and weary. And it was his wedding night.

And hers
. Not while she still had breath would she allow that madman to intrude upon her wedding night.

“Wait,” she whispered. “You sit over there, Your Highness.” He did as he was commanded. She moved past the marble balcony, where the stars had only begun to dot the sky, and poured him a glass of brandy, placing before him a tray of strawberries, grapes, olives, cheeses, and cold salamis and finger sandwiches, which had been delivered to the room earlier. The champagne on ice was untouched. She lit the candles and stoked the marble fireplace. She moved to stand on an intricately embroidered peach-and-navy floral rug.

He took a sip of brandy as he watched her, curiosity encroaching upon his weariness.

“This is my wedding present to you, Alejandro.” Clearly intrigued despite his grief, she felt him watching her intently.

“Did you plan to sing this song this night, Nicolette?” he asked, confusion written all over his face.

“Of course, it is my wedding gift to you, Alejandro,” she replied indignantly. In truth, she had not, and she was thoroughly exhausted herself, barely able to move, much less sing. But she knew that he was wretchedly dismal, determined to annul their marriage to protect her.

She had to show him how much she wanted him. Her eyes searched the room for her portmanteau, which contained her actual wedding gift to Alejandro, a beautiful walking stick with a sword hidden inside the handle. At the time a weapon had seemed an odd sort of wedding gift. As usual, her instincts had rung true.

Ah, there it is,
next to the huge walnut canopy bed, rose petals scattered from the door to the bed veiled in lace. She spotted the portmanteau and breathed a sigh of relief. She would find what she needed in there.

She swept past Alejandro, his expression hollow and empty, as if he had finally been separated from everything in the world that mattered to him.

She must sing. She took a deep breath and mustered all of her inner discipline.

The audience demands it.

Chapter Forty-Five

With you I would share

my days of happiness;

Everything is folly in this world

that does not give us pleasure.

Let us enjoy life,

For the pleasures of love are swift and fleeting

As a flower that lives and dies

and can be enjoyed no more.

Let's take our pleasure!

While its ardent,

Brilliant summons lures us on.

—Giuseppe Verdi,
La traviata