Prince of Midtown Page 9

  Eight

  “W here on earth is Sebastian going with that young woman?” Rania, Queen of Caspia, leaned toward her husband. Even her favorite Vivaldi made her head ache tonight.

  “I can’t say, dear.”

  “You may not want to say, but I think we both have a pretty good idea. When is that boy going to grow up?”

  “Sebastian is thirty-four years old. I think most people would say he is grown up.”

  Ugh! Her husband could be so obtuse. He simply stood there, staring out over the crowds. All their friends and the crowned heads of every remaining monarchy in Europe gathered under this roof tonight.

  While their only son crept off to go get naked with…a servant.

  She shivered.

  “She’s his assistant, for God’s sake!”

  “Lovely girl.”

  Her husband’s silver hair still curled elegantly around his majestic head. He had the same proud profile and easy good humor that had driven her half-wild as an impressionable girl.

  These days he sometimes drove her completely mad.

  “Have you forgotten that our son is the future king of Caspia?”

  “I am aware of that.”

  “He should be courting women of his own stature. Girls of noble blood.”

  “I’m sure Sebastian will choose an excellent wife.”

  “Sure, are you? What makes you so sure? Lately I don’t feel sure of anything.”

  She fanned herself with a linen cocktail napkin. Another of those awful hot flashes, come to remind her of her own mortality and that the future lay with the next generation.

  Which Sebastian might be creating right now with his own office assistant.

  She fanned harder.

  Her husband turned to her.

  Oh, dear. His stern look.

  “Rania, darling. Sebastian is high-spirited, yes. But he is Caspian to the core. He loves our country and its people with all his soul. He’ll rise to the task of devoting his life to them as their king. Why shouldn’t he have some fun before he assumes the weighty mantle of responsibility?”

  “Oh. Did you miss out on all that fun by marrying me too young?”

  “Rania.” He pressed a soft kiss behind her ear.

  Her knees still buckled slightly when he did that. Her heart softened toward her warm and trusting husband.

  “Sweetheart, I’m just worried, that’s all. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if he was safely settled down with a nice girl like Faris?”

  “Faris is a lot of things. Nice isn’t one of them.”

  Her husband stared out again at the crowds, his expression rigid.

  “Darling, Faris is the daughter of your oldest friend. What on earth would Deon say if he heard you?”

  “I don’t intend for him to hear me, but I don’t intend to encourage my son to be a martyr to Faris Maridis, either.”

  “But they’ve known each other almost since birth. After our own, her family is the most prominent and oldest in Caspia. She’s beautiful. Surely you’ll admit that?”

  “Yes. No question. She is beautiful. And I pity the poor sod who gets dazzled into marrying her.”

  “But what if Sebastian does choose someone like his own secretary? Stubborn as he is, he’s quite capable of it.” She fanned herself again, feeling breathless and faint. “Not only is she American, she’s not even from money. Sebastian admitted it himself.”

  Her husband raised an eyebrow. “You asked him?”

  “Well, yes. Why not?”

  Her husband burst into a guffaw of laughter.

  Rania frowned. Very briefly. Then she reassumed her habitual public expression of beatific contentment.

  It wasn’t easy being queen.

  The French champagne tasted bitter and foul to Faris.

  Right in front of everyone!

  Pawing at each other like teenagers. That girl with her head thrown back, eyes closed, swaying in his arms.

  Disgusting.

  And Sebastian grappling her like a rugby opponent. Without a thought for all their friends and family in attendance.

  Anger and humiliation clawed at her gut.

  She’d laughed off his dalliances with starlets and socialites. Those fluffy girls were no match for Sebastian Stone. She was invariably gratified when he appeared in the papers with a different girl-of-the-moment the following week.

  She really shouldn’t concern herself over this scrawny American girl who filed his papers for a living.

  Faris adjusted her beautiful midnight-colored dress over her creamy décolletage.

  Tessa Banks was a nobody. A member of staff.

  So why had Sebastian clung to her as though she held the secret to eternal life?

  He’d stared at her. Stroked her.

  Kissed her.

  She’d never seen that look of distracted preoccupation on his face before.

  Faris touched her hair to make sure her chignon was still perfect. You never knew when someone would snap a picture.

  Sebastian was hers.

  They’d both known that since birth. Their mothers had joked about their future marriage from the time they fought over rattles on a blanket spread in the palace gardens.

  It was fate.

  Destiny.

  She would one day be Queen Faris of Caspia.

  She didn’t mind waiting. She’d waited thirty-four years, for crying out loud! Lucky thing she didn’t look a day over twenty-five. But people were starting to talk. It was time for the marriage to happen.

  She was determined to extract a proposal from him this year.

  By any means necessary.

  The sound of the party faded as Sebastian led Tessa down a long corridor. Her heels clacked on the stone floor as she tried to keep up with his swift steps.

  “In here.” He tugged her into a darkened room and closed the door. Tessa tried to catch her breath. She couldn’t see a thing. Electricity crackled in the air between her and Sebastian, heightened by their lightning escape from the party.

  A light bloomed under Sebastian’s hand. An oil lamp, set into a recess in the wall.

  “We don’t use electric light in here. Too many precious items that might fade.”

  “Where are we?” She still couldn’t see much in the pulsing gloom of the lamp. A sultry scent, like sandalwood, hung faint in the air.

  “This is the oldest part of the palace. The walls here are six-feet thick. No one will hear us.”

  Desire thickened his voice.

  Tessa’s face heated and her breasts tingled beneath her dress.

  He lit another oil lamp, illuminating a low seating area in a corner of the room. Gold thread shone in the lush fabrics and brocade dangled from thick pillows.

  Sebastian took her hand, his skin hot on hers. “Are you tired from dancing?” He stroked her cheek with his thumb.

  “Not at all.” Excitement hummed in her blood. Her voice sounded breathless. “You?”

  He answered her with a hot, hard kiss that stole the last of her senses. His hands roamed over her dress, over her breasts, her backside, her thighs, with rough and lusty movements quite unlike his restraint at the party.

  His eyes were so dark they appeared black, bottomless and brimming with desire.

  For a moment she thought he might rip off her couture dress in one swift movement. But he turned her gently, his hands at her waist. He undid the hooks and eyes along the back of her dress with skilled fingers. Even if the expense meant nothing to him, Sebastian appreciated the artistry and hard work that went into designer originals. The heavy, beaded fabric slid over her like a lover’s caress.

  “You were beautiful in the dress, but without it…” He exhaled softly.

  His fingers sparked trails of shimmering excitement. He unhooked her bra and carefully removed it. A slight breeze through a high window stung her nipples to tight awareness.

  She tried not to wobble as he layered kisses along her spine. Kneeling behind her, he tugged her skimpy silk panties d
own over her legs, until she wore nothing but her strappy high heels.

  He stood and she turned to face him. The look on his face transfixed her. Raw lust, yes, but something deeper and more powerful shone in his eyes and hardened his strong features.

  Desire echoed through her like a crack of thunder. He’d shed his jacket and she’d been reaching up to unbutton his shirt, but suddenly her hands fell lower, and they both struggled with the fly of his pants, shoved them down and rolled on the condom.

  He entered her slowly, cupping her buttocks as she pressed the length of her body against his. Aroused almost to boiling point, she gripped him as he thrust his hard length into her.

  Against her back, the cool stone of an ancient column felt heavenly. It held her upright as Sebastian devoured her mouth and drove into her body with forceful thrusts.

  The pent-up taut desire that had built like a fire while they danced could no longer be contained. Tremors rippled between them as their bellies clashed. Sebastian’s rough kisses only strengthened her agonizing craving to draw him closer. To become one, even for a moment.

  The mere touch of his lips unleashed a starburst of bright light and color in front of her eyes. The teasing scratch of his nails set her skin shivering and tingling.

  She bucked against him, taking him deeper, clawing at the fabric of his shirt.

  Sebastian thrust harder, taking her further on the journey out of her body and mind and into an alternate dimension of fierce, pounding desire that made her blood thunder in her veins.

  The world dissolved—along with all barriers between them—as they exploded into orgasm. The rush was so intense that Tessa lost consciousness for a split second before she crashed back to life in Sebastian’s strong arms.

  Bittersweet relief rang through her as the tension slipped from her body and she held on to her lover for dear life.

  Sebastian released a groan in her ear. His shirt was bunched up over the thick muscles of his chest, forgotten in their urgency. Tessa’s arms were fast under it, wrapped around his hot, perspiring skin.

  His heady male scent stole over her senses, making her want to bury her face in his neck and drink him in.

  “Much better,” he murmured, holding her tight.

  She wanted to laugh, but she knew exactly how he felt. “Me, too.” Still, her legs were shaking. “Maybe we should sit down before we fall down.”

  “Good idea.” He eased out of her carefully and she shivered, already craving him inside her again.

  Worse yet, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving her naked against the cool stone pillar.

  He returned with a long sweep of silk fabric. “Lift your arms.”

  She obeyed. He wrapped the material, purple with a gold border, around her with practiced movements, then secured it at her shoulder with a gold pin. The fine silk fell to the floor, billowing slightly in the breeze.

  “I feel like I’ve stepped into a myth.”

  “Maybe you have.” His deep voice rippled through the air like smoke.

  She gasped as Sebastian swept her right off her spike-heeled feet and into his arms. He marched across the room and laid her gently on soft cushions in the sitting area.

  A bowl of fragrant oil smoldered over a tiny candle, filling the room with its seductive scent.

  “Champagne?”

  Sebastian had stripped off his crumpled shirt and his bronzed torso gleamed in the scant light.

  “Um, sure.”

  He moved to a wall behind her, and drew out a bottle.

  “What is this room used for?” She still couldn’t make out much in the dark.

  “It’s the antechamber behind the throne room. Guests are sometimes entertained here during official functions.”

  “Ah. That explains the champagne.” She took the offered glass, bubbles sparkling in the warm glow from the candle. “And you keep silk robes on hand in case anyone spills Bollinger on their clothes?”

  Sebastian smiled slowly. “The robe you’re wearing is from our national collection. It was created by royal weavers who once did nothing but create cloth for the family.”

  “Oh, goodness.” Tessa’s skin shrank from the priceless history draped over it. “I’m not sure I should be wearing it. I’m kind of sweaty.”

  Sebastian shrugged. “What’s the use of keeping something that cannot be worn? The weavers put their heart and skill into creating the finest fabrics known to mankind. I’m sure they’d rather their efforts caress a beautiful woman glowing with the heat of passion, than sit in a trunk waiting for moths to find them.”

  Glowing. Okay, that worked. “The silk is as soft as fleece. Was it made recently?”

  Sebastian made a wry expression. “No, I’m afraid royal weavers went the way of the royal soothsayers. The events of the twentieth century encroached on Caspia as they did every corner of Europe. It’s a miracle that we still have our treasures. The crown jewels are kept locked in the vault here, too. Would you like to see them?”

  Tessa’s eyebrows shot up. “Sure, I’d love to.” She started to get up.

  “Wait here. I’ll bring them to you.”

  The mysterious gleam in his eye made her stomach flutter. Or was that an aftershock from her orgasm? She sipped her champagne and fanned herself, which made the incense flame flicker.

  Sebastian returned with a large box of dark wood, intricately carved with figures. His thick arms strained under its weight.

  “Goodness, what’s in there? Gold bricks?”

  He chuckled and studied her face, her neck.

  She heated under his regard.

  He lifted the lid, reached into the box and plucked out something shiny. “This one.”

  Something sparkled in the dim light, but she couldn’t make out details.

  Sebastian reached over her shoulders and laid cool, heavy metal on her collarbones. He fastened it behind her neck.

  “Beautiful.”

  “It’s a necklace?” She touched it with her fingers. The metal was heavily ornamented, encrusted with jewels. Carnelian maybe? It was hard to tell in the darkness. “What are these?”

  “Rubies.”

  She sucked in a breath. “And the necklace is gold?”

  “Twenty-four karat.”

  “Isn’t pure gold very soft?”

  “Yes, that’s why it must be saved for special occasions.” He looked right into her eyes. “Like tonight.”

  That fluttering sensation again.

  Sebastian pulled out another gem-encrusted treasure. “Hold out your right wrist.”

  He fastened the linked bracelet, heavy as a manacle and almost as tight, around her wrist. “You’re slim, like the ancient people. It fits you perfectly.” He caressed her wrist with his thumb.

  “How old are these pieces?”

  “They date back at least to the time of the Byzantine Empire, but they may be centuries, even millennia older. Caspia was sacked in 550 A.D. during the reign of Justinian. The library was burned and all records destroyed. Our history up to that point is as much legend as fact.”

  He plucked out a slim ring of gold, like a headband. He turned it so the single gem was at the front, then settled it on her forehead.

  Like a crown.

  Tessa felt her face heat. As much from Sebastian’s serious expression as from the weird situation.

  Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d wind up sitting in the Caspian Palace, dressed as a royal princess. Suddenly she felt like a chimp decked out for a tea party.

  “Why so jumpy?”

  “It’s just weird, that’s all. I don’t feel right in these things.”

  Sebastian took her hand and pulled her gently to her feet. “Nonsense.” He took a couple of steps back. She stood there, swaying in her heels, as his eyes roamed over her, searing her flesh right through the thin silk. “These jewels are flattered by your beauty.” His voice rumbled, echoing slightly off the stone walls. “As if they were made for you.”

  Sebastian couldn’t ta
ke his eyes off her.

  His golden goddess, tall and regal, her striking features chiseled by the chiaroscuro of candlelight. The draping silk displayed her magnificent body to perfection and the heavy majesty of the gold pieces enhanced her natural proud stance.

  He couldn’t think. Could barely breathe.

  “It’s just me. Tessa.” Her green eyes were wary.

  “I know. That’s why I can’t stop staring.”

  “It must be kind of bizarre seeing your royal jewels on a regular person. I’d better take them off.”

  “No!” The word flew out. “I love to see you in them. Partly because you are ‘a regular person’ as you call it. I love that about you. You’re not jaded and bored with the pleasures of life, like so many women I meet.”

  “I guess that’s because I haven’t had the opportunity to burn out yet. A few more grand balls, a hundred more boat trips in the harbor, a thousand gallops across the countryside and I might be yawning behind my champagne glass, too.” Her eyes sparkled.

  “Never.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m a good judge of character.”

  She lifted her chin. “I did get bored with being your assistant.”

  He couldn’t help smiling. “I don’t blame you. It was a boring job.”

  “I’m afraid I’m better at riding than at typing correspondence.”

  “Most emphatically.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I didn’t mean that your correspondence is lacking,” he turned to add. “Just that you’re being wasted on it. You’re meant for so much more than sitting at a desk, talking on the phone.”

  “Like what?” She crossed her arms over her chest, the provocative and unladylike gesture a sharp and delicious contrast with the traditional attire.

  He loved it.

  You are meant to be my queen.

  His brain threw out the words. He blinked, swallowed and cleared his throat. “Let’s sleep in my bed,” he rasped.

  Her eyes widened.

  “There’s a secret passage. No one will see us.” He knew Tessa would prefer to keep it a secret and he wanted to preserve her modesty.

  He scooped up the box. “We’ll take these with us. I think I need to see them all on you.”

  She laughed. “I won’t argue. A girl doesn’t get dressed up in ancient treasures every day.”