Penelope and Prince Charming (Nvengaria #1)(52)
“Ignore you?” Damien asked, incredulous. “What blackguard has suggested I could ignore you? I have thought of nothing but you since I arrived, and I will likely do so for the rest of my life.”
He would be permanently aroused by her. Even now, thoughts rose in his mind of Penelope in the river with her wet chemise clinging to her body, her dark nipples pressing the fabric, every curve of her outlined for his hands.
Her hair was still damp from their encounter, and this fact was incredibly erotic, especially when he remembered tasting her. Sweet, sweet woman, all honey, all for me. If Damien didn’t have her soon, he’d explode.
“You are changing the subject,” Penelope said.
“You are this subject, my love. I will not ignore you or allow Alexander to kill me.” He met her gaze. “If you believe Alexander will embrace me tenderly when I return to fulfill the prophecy, you are wrong. He will still try to execute me, whether I fulfill the prophecy or no.”
Penelope looked perplexed. “But if I understand aright, if you arrive with me, your people will believe in you. They all believe in the prophecy, like Sasha, don’t they? They would help you defeat this Alexander. If I do not return with you, they will lose faith in you.”
Damien said nothing, because she was right. Having the people of Nvengaria on his side would give him more power than Alexander ever could have, in spite of Alexander’s control of the army. Damien would be beloved for bringing the princess home, and they would transfer that love to Penelope.
It did not hurt that Penelope was kindhearted as well as spirited. The Nvengarian people would embrace her wholeheartedly, and not only for Damien’s sake. They would adore her.
Penelope would marry Damien and travel to Nvengaria with him. He saw that in her eyes. She would martyr herself for his sake.
Damien had the feeling that if he tried to leave her behind now, she would smuggle herself along in the baggage, no doubt aided by Petri, Sasha, Rufus, and all the other servants. They already adored her.
Damien reached out and traced a curl that lay against her cheek. “I suppose I will have to live with having an astonishing woman in my life,” he said with a lightness he did not feel.
“You ought to have told me,” Penelope said stubbornly.
“I ought to do many things. I am not one for obedience.”
Penelope watched him, agitated, her green-gold eyes filled with fear, anger, and worry. Worry for him.
A strange sensation. Women in the past had chased Damien and desired him, even threatened suicide when he left them, but not one had ever worried about him.
Penelope grew more astonishing every day. He tilted her head with his fingers under her chin and brushed a kiss to her mouth. “’Tis done, love,” he said, his body tightening in anticipation. “I will tell Sasha to begin the betrothal rituals.”
* * *
“You seem preoccupied,” Grand Duchess Sephronia said.
Alexander came out of his reverie at his wife’s remark. Sephronia lay on a scroll-backed chaise with pillows propping her up. Alexander had pulled his chair close to the chaise while she’d chattered to him brightly. Neither her beribboned peignoir nor the cashmere blanket over her legs could disguise her extreme thinness.
Sephronia’s beauty was gone. Her once vivacious face was now sunken, nothing but thin, dry skin stretched over her skull. Her luxurious black hair had been shaved for her fever, and only thin black wisps had grown back.
She no longer allowed anyone into her rooms except her maids and Alexander. Sephronia would have kept Alexander out if she could, but he insisted on visiting her every day. He had never been in love with her—she had been too frivolous for deeper emotion and he too busy—but she was his wife, and Alexander would not allow her to die alone and forgotten.
He stirred now and answered her question. “My sources inform me that Damien has found his princess and she has agreed to marry him. Also that more than one assassination attempt has failed.”
“Oh, dear,” Sephronia said in concern. She had never really understood the prophecy business, but she knew Alexander wanted Damien dead.
“One assassin tried to stab him in broad daylight, and was of course thwarted by Damien’s bodyguards,” Alexander went on, his lip curling in disgust. “The other tried to shoot Damien as he frolicked with his princess in a river but was frightened off by another young lady and guests from the house. Damien’s bodyguards did not even have to move.” He shook his head. “These hotheads seek glory in killing the Imperial Prince, but what they mostly do is make fools of themselves. One might become lucky and hit him, I suppose, but more likely I will simply have to deal with Damien when he reaches Nvengaria.”
“My poor Alexander.” Sephronia gave him a weak smile. “Prince Damien is a headache, isn’t he?”
“He is like his father. But I will snip this flower of the family tree and be rid of him.” Alexander scissored his first two fingers. “No more Imperial Prince. Nvengaria can emerge into the modern world.”
“What about the princess?” Sephronia asked. “Will you snip her too?”
Alexander shook his head. “No need to be so barbaric. She is an Englishwoman with no knowledge of Nvengarian nonsense. I will send her home again, without impediment. She is an imposter, in any case. There is no missing princess of Nvengaria.”