Chapter Seven
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?
04-12-07, 09:41 AM
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