Part 19 (2/2)

”Ahhh! Put me down! You crude lout! You barbarian! Do you hear me?”

The entire a.s.semblage heard her.

Lilac screamed and ranted down two flights of stairs, bouncing on the Prince's broad shoulder.

Every head looked up to watch this unprecedented spectacle.

It appeared Miss Devere was to arrive at her wedding with her backside bouncing in the air, wearing a lad's clothing, and shouting like a dockside wh.o.r.e.

The Prince, on the other hand, calm and collected, appeared impeccably groomed in a black cutaway coat, black pantaloons-which, the ladies noted, clung snugly to his muscular limbs-and a white frilled s.h.i.+n protruding from the deep V of his gold waistcoat. As was his style, the Prince was without his cravat. His gorgeous hair, of course, hung free.

The scene in its entirety was more than the spectators could have hoped for. Invitations for the wedding had been zealously coveted amongst the ton. It appeared his Highness was not going to let them down. This wedding would be talked about for ages.

”Don't know why she picked him over me,” Lord Creighton sniffed.

Leona Harcorte glanced at the gangly lord out of the corner of her eye. ”Incomprehensible,” she murmured in a sarcastic undertone that was completely lost on the obnoxious lord. She knew for a fact it had been the Prince who had done the choosing, but she had no intentions of sharing that actuality with anyone. Not that she would need to-anyone with a decent set of ears could plainly hear Miss Devere's viewpoint on the subject.

Everyone except the nitwit next to her.

As Rejar pa.s.sed by with Lilac howling from his shoulder, Creighton waved his lace-edged hanky in the air, affecting a laissez-faire att.i.tude. ”C'est la vie!” he shouted merrily at the pair. He thought the gesture combined with the fas.h.i.+onable french verbiage displayed him to great advantage.

Lady Harcorte snorted behind her fan.

When she regained control, she eyed Prince Nickolai's broad back with interest. He was hefting the girl about, barely exerting any effort, holding the chit firmly with one well-placed palm. Leona sighed at the sheer beauty of the masculine picture he presented. Ah, well, she reasoned, it shouldn't take long for a man like that to get bored to tears with his provincial little wife. And when he did, she would be there-to reinstate excitement into his poor, pa.s.sionless existence.

Leona Harcorte would have been mightily depressed if she had a glimpse of what was on Rejar's mind at that moment. Rejar was thinking he liked his soon-to-be mate thras.h.i.+ng wildly against him; it signaled to him exactly how pa.s.sionate Miss Devere was going to prove herself to be.

In just a few short hours, she would be thras.h.i.+ng under him. And alongside of him. And on top of him. And in front of him ...

Rejar displayed a wicked smile. Flipping her upright, he deposited her before the minister, positioning her to the appropriate place with a guiding clamp of his hands to her shoulders.

She was still reeling from the sudden change of perspective when he clasped her hand solidly in his own and took his place beside her.

Rejar nodded to the minister, a small, shadow of a man.

The minister swallowed once, then reluctantly began the service. In all his days, he had never seen such a spectacle as this. It didn't appear the lady was quite willing. Perhaps he should ...

One searing look from the towering foreign Prince with the two different colored eyes and the minister speeded up his recitation of the vows. In fact, he was going so fast, no one could understand him. The guests turned bewildered faces to each other. Whispers of ”what did he say?” flew about the room.

Agatha briefly thought of telling the gudgeon to slow down, but remembering her niece's mutinous face, reconsidered. Best this was over with quickly.

When Rejar's low, fluid voice said, ”I will,” Lilac came to her senses. She threw Prince Azov a fulminating glare of disdain. Does he really think I'll agree to this?

Rejar watched her speculatively from under lowered lids. The man who was marrying them had asked Lilac the question Jackie had warned him about-the question which must be answered in a positive manner for the ceremony to be completed. What an annoying requirement! he brooded. The men of his world would never tolerate such a loophole.

Lilac clamped her lips together, remaining stonily silent.

Unperturbed, Rejar's eyes flashed with sudden mischief. Anyone who knew the Familiar usually became instantly wary when he displayed that particular expression. It meant Rejar was up for some sport.

While smiling innocently to the minister, he sent Lilac an offer she could not refuse in the form of a thought.

{Do you wish me to put a stop to this?} Lilac, who had been staring straight over the minister's head, naturally a.s.sumed the Prince had spoken out loud to her. ”Yes, I do!” she yelled, stomping her foot in outrage.

”Then by the power vested in me,” the minister droned, ”I now p.r.o.nounce you man and wife.”

Lilac's mouth dropped. ”I wasn't talking to you! I was talking to him!” She nodded in the Prince's direction, but neither man seemed to be paying any attention to her. The minister dutifully told Prince Azov he could kiss his bride. Lilac tried to tug her hand free from his powerful grip.

He turned to her.

She was relieved when he released her hand, but her relief quickly turned to apprehension when his large hands cupped the sides of her head. Strong fingers sifted through her hair to commandingly tilt her face to his.

She expected his kiss of owners.h.i.+p.

What she did not expect was that she would become captivated by the arresting look in his beautiful, compelling eyes.

Those spiky, long lashes ... His eyes seemed to capture her into their spell until she did not think she could turn away even if he should let her. She stared up at him wordlessly, caught by his intense regard in a spellbinding moment.

All of a sudden, his scent seemed to envelop her, the cinnamon-bayberry scent she had come to a.s.sociate with him. And that other more exotic hint underlying the overtones. The wild, provocative subtlety that sizzled her blood and heated her skin. He lowered his face close to her own. His spicy warm breath drifting across her, he spoke almost against her lips. The words he proclaimed seemed to vibrate with his personal eroticism.

”This Familiar takes you And discards all others.

This Familiar will give himself only to you And no other.

This Familiar unites with you now forever For him there is no other.”

His strange, enigmatic eyes dilated. The silken lips parted slightly and descended in a what seemed to her, captured and captivated by him, a ritual of some kind.

Her eyes widened as those softest of male lips pressed lightly against her own.

And took her breath from her.

She could not breathe! Panicked, she clutched his shoulders, not sure whether she meant to throw him off or bring him to her. But he held her immobile beneath him, his mouth to hers. She grew faint in his arms from lack of air; black spots swam dizzily before her eyes. She thought it likely she would die of asphyxiation right then and there.

Then he breathed into her mouth. A warm, surging gush of air. Filling her lungs with life.

And somehow she knew in her deepest heart that this breath he gave back to her was not her own.

Lilac stood in her bedroom staring at the oak tree outside the window with a woebegone expression.

It had seemed such a perfect plan. What had gone wrong? How had he found out? Come to think of it, how did he find out everything about her? Where she was going, what she was doing, who she was with, what birthmarks she had. It was uncanny.

The meal had been a nightmare for her.

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