Prince Charming (44 page)

She glanced at him as she swept by on her horse. He smiled faintly as she passed, the mare’s creamy tail floating out behind them.

Then he furrowed his brow as he saw Dani begin to change positions on the horse’s back. He held his breath as she stood in the saddle, her arms outstretched, the mare’s smooth canter never faltering. Rafe stared, unsure if he was delighted by his wife’s audacity or terrified that she would fall and break her neck.

Horse and rider zoomed past him, and the irrepressible redhead tossed him a cocksure grin.

Love surged in a tangled wave right up to his throat, made a lump there as desperate, almost frantic emotion quickened his heartbeat. She was absurd and unconquerably free and so beautiful, graceful as a swan.

One more sweeping circle around the field, and to his relief, she lowered herself carefully to sit sidesaddle again and brought her horse to a walk, halting before him under the tree.

She reached forward and patted her mare’s neck with one gloved hand, then smiled at Rafe. Her cheeks were flushed, her aquamarine eyes shining.

He thrust the report he’d been reading aside and sprang to his feet, walking over to her. He plucked her down from the saddle and carried her under the tree.

The mare walked away and began grazing on the tall grasses in the field.

“A most impressive display,” he said as she laughed and whipped off her hat, tossing it with a carefree air.

“Wasn’t it, though?” Her booted feet paddled cheerfully in midair as he carried her toward the tree. “What do you think of your wife now?”

“I think I should show her my talent, so as not to be upstaged,” he murmured, stunned anew by his insatiable passion for her.

“I already know what your talent is, Rafael,” she whispered with a fetching smile.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten.”

“Since this morning? I have a good memory.”

“Let me give you more…good memories.” He laid her down in the tall grasses and smothered her under his body, loosing her chestnut tresses from her neat chignon as he plied her mouth with kiss after kiss.

Her gloved fingers raked down his back as he worked her high-necked riding habit free. “Mmm, someone’s been eating peppermints. My favorite.” She licked his lips.

“Perhaps we can combine our talents. Ride me,” he whispered, giving her a quick, mischievous flare of one brow. He sat up and leaned back against the tree, pulling her to him. He was panting and hot for her, ready to go.

With vivid blue heat in her eyes, she straddled him. Under her maroon-colored skirts, he freed himself, parted her demure pantalettes, and slipped urgently into her tight passage, for she was already moist with excitement.

Closing her eyes, she made a sound of rapture and rode him gracefully. He held her by her waist and moved with her, his heart pounding. Lifting his hips rhythmically, he rocked her on his lap. She was liquid poetry, sweet, ambrosial fire enveloping him: a goddess of lush, exuberant sexuality.

She dragged her eyes open and reached up to pull at the ends of his cravat, leaving it hanging untied off his shoulders. Then she plucked the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt free, baring his chest.

Her gloved hands caressed him, then she gripped the open ends of his clothes in both of her dainty fists, clenched her jaw, and sank deeper on his shaft, taking him to the hilt. They both gasped with pleasure, savoring their joining in heated stillness.

She slipped her hands inside his open shirt and stroked his sides. “I love you so much, Rafael. You have me completely, everything I am inside, everything I have.”

He curled his hand around her nape and drew her mouth to his. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, willing himself to master his fears at last. He ended the kiss but did not release her, pulling the words from the most profound depths of himself. “I love you.”

She moaned softly, holding him tighter.

“I love you,” he whispered again and again.

“Rafael.”

Suddenly the leaves above them rattled in a gust of breeze and a spattering of fat raindrops plunked onto the grasses around them.

Dani’s eyes widened as she stared at him.

He looked up at the sky and laughed, thanking God, tears rising in his eyes. She pulled him into a joyful embrace. He inhaled the smell of the rain in sheer swelling gladness. He tasted it on her skin.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and laid her back in the soft grasses of the field, and he made love to her as the warm, heavy rain soaked them both, pouring in glorious rivulets from his shoulders and hair and coursing down her porcelain face. For miles around them, life-giving water penetrated deep into the dusty fields, and the parched land thirstily drank, and as the thunder rumbled distantly, he brought on the flood of her love and emptied himself like the swollen skies into the secret reservoir of creation, planting new life in her womb.

  
CHAPTER  
EIGHTEEN

Holding her breath, her eyes wide, Dani stared at the old royal physician as he discreetly palpated her taut, almost imperceptibly changed abdomen. A moment later, he removed his hand, pulling the sheet back up over her.

“Yes, it is as you suspected, Your Highness,” he said in a kindly tone, turning to her. “God has blessed Ascencion and your marriage. You are with child.”

She remembered abruptly to exhale, but her heart was pounding and her face was rather drained of color. “What do I do now?”

He chuckled at her scared look. “First, stop imagining terrible things. Several ladies who have been my patients for many years have confided in me that the pains of labor are forgotten, you know, the moment a woman holds her newborn babe in her arms.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Fine words, from a man.”

“All will be well. It will be months before you must restrain your usual activities. Just use your head, eat well, and get all the rest you need, but don’t be frightened, my child. Do you really think that doting husband of yours would let anything happen to you?”

The old doctor knew how to deal with a difficult patient, she thought, as a broad smile broke out over her face. He gave her a grandfatherly wink and left her in the care of her maids.

Slowly, she crossed her arms over her abdomen, hugging herself thoughtfully, still amazed. She could not believe the reckless, tomboyish girl she had always been was going to become a mother.

Her thoughts drifted back to the day a few weeks ago when it had finally rained, ending the drought and bringing hope back to Ascencion. Though Rafael and she had behaved more like scandalous lovers than the stately royal figureheads they were supposed to be, somehow she knew that in spite of their many couplings, she had conceived on that miraculous day. They had ended their tour and come home to the palace when her morning nausea began. She had only told her husband she was sick of traveling and needed a rest for a while.

Her first thought as she dressed was to pull him out of his meeting and tell him her tidings at once. She knew he was going to be elated, but she decided to wait until the meeting was over and then tell him, for she needed a little time to come to terms with her own mixed emotions at the news. She was happy that their love had borne fruit, but she was still afraid of her ordeal eight months in the future, and shaken to think that with the arrival of her child, her life would be changed irrevocably.

She took a stroll in the royal gardens to collect her thoughts before speaking with him. She was inspecting some roses in a corner of the statuary garden when a footman came walking out briskly to her and offered her a folded letter on a silver tray.

“Your Highness,” the man said with a bow.

Curiously, she took the letter, dismissing the servant with a nod. Was it another plea for the Masked Rider’s help? she wondered. Now she had too important a reason to decline any further adventures. The doctor’s attitude had been very casual about what she must and mustn’t do, but she wasn’t taking any chances with her own health or her unborn child’s. Sometimes it shocked her to think back on how reckless she had been, robbing coaches in the dead of night. She had so much to live for now.

Unfolding the short note, she drew in her breath as she read it.

“Oh, you fool,” she breathed, scanning the two short lines.

Heedless of the fact that he could be hanged for showing his face on Ascencion, Mateo was waiting at the Chiaramonte villa and asked to talk to her immediately.

Finishing up his morning meetings ahead of schedule, free for the next three hours, Rafe strode off to find Dani, whistling one of his old favorite songs,
“La ci darem la mano.”
He looked in the usual places where he might find her, but seeing her nowhere, it dawned on him to ask her maid where she could be found.

“Why, my lady went out, Your Highness.”

“Out?” he said, frowning.

“Yes, sir. She left twenty minutes ago.”

“Where did she go? Did she take her guards?”

“Yes, sir. They accompanied Her Highness. She mentioned that she had to leave at once to see her grandfather.”

“Oh, no,” Rafe said, furrowing his brow in concern. “I hope the old colonel’s all right.”

“My lady did not stop to say, Your Highness, but if I may add, she did seem distressed.”

“Perhaps I can catch up to her,” he murmured, pivoting on his heel and launching into a brisk march toward the royal stables. Her grandfather was a frail old man who could easily have wandered into some kind of dangerous mishap. If something had befallen him, Rafe wanted to be there to help Dani.

Soon he was astride his white stallion, galloping down the King’s Road with his usual half-dozen bodyguards, since Orlando had not yet been caught.

The ride to the Chiaramonte villa was not long, and he knew the way by heart. The villa was tucked under scaffolding from the restoration Rafe had set in progress. Crews of stonemasons and roofers were noisily at work. Their wagons, loaded with supplies, were parked alongside the overgrown drive. He noted with relief that Dani’s bodyguards were posted outside the house.

“What’s happened?” he asked the chief of her men as he drew his powerful white stallion to a halt.

“Her Highness wished to visit His Grace, sire,” the man replied, squinting against the sun as he met Rafe with a salute.

“Is His Grace well?”

“Yes, Your Highness, to the best of my knowledge.”

Rafe swung down from the saddle and strode to the front door. He let himself inside and looked around the foyer, seeing no one. Remembering the threadbare salon where he had sat with the old man that first night, he strode down the hall toward it.

“Dani!” he began calling, but upon opening the salon door, he discovered his wife in the arms of another man.

Thunderstruck, Rafe stood in the doorway and stared.

All three of them were motionless with shock, like carved figures in a frieze. The mantel clock’s tick sounded like a gong in the silence. Then, all the air left Rafe’s lungs in a
whoosh
.

Dani pulled away from Mateo and stepped toward Rafe. “My love—”

He threw up his hand to ward her off, as one tight, helpless syllable wrenched from his lips, “No.”

Her face drained—suddenly it was the face of a stranger to him.

“Rafael—”

The first word that turned over in his mind was
betrayal
.

The first thought that materialized was that she had been planning this all along.

And he went cold inside.

He stepped back out into the hall, pulling the door shut. Stiffly, he pivoted and marched away as she came out after him. Holding himself tall and erect, while inwardly reeling, he made himself deaf to her pleas and stalked toward the Royal Guardsmen.

He did not look back.

“Don’t walk away. Don’t do this to me, Rafael. I can explain—”

“There is a fugitive in the house,” he said calmly to the men. “Arrest him.”

“Rafael!” she cried, taking his arm. “It’s not what you think. I love you! Look at me!”

He shook her off harshly, rage locked in his throat, and walked away. He wanted to ask her why but could not. His hands were shaking, his movements jerky as he gathered the reins and swung back up onto his white horse.