“Tell me what?”
“That life is a great deal easier this way. There's nothing worse than constantly fretting over your own feelings. There's no happiness in that either. But if you do what has to be done, there can be a little satisfaction.”
Something was aching inside her, almost too much for her to speak. “And that's what you're going to live for?” she asked at last. “A little satisfaction from doing your duty.”
“It's all that's left for me, Dottie.”
“But you can't say that,” she cried. “It's giving up on life.”
“I shall live a life-”
“No you won't, except on the surface. Inwardly you'll have crawled away into a cave where you think nobody can find you. You say that being hurt doesn't matter, but actually you plan to protect yourself by not having any feelings that can be hurt. It looks brave and noble but actually it's cowardly.”
“Thank you,” he snapped. “If you've finished…”
“I haven't. There's something else.”
“Get it over with.”
“All right,” she said breathlessly, and kissed him.
She did it quickly before she lost her nerve, but she was driven by a need so strong that it created a kind of courage. The last time her lips had lain against his had been in the park on her final day in England. The memory had been with her every moment since, and now there was something she had to know. Seeking the answer, she pressed her mouth more urgently against his, and felt his tremor, his indecision. He wanted to draw back but couldn't make himself do it. She sensed that much. But what else was there?
His hands were on her shoulders, neither pushing her away nor drawing her close. In a troubled voice he murmured, “Dottie…”
“I'm not going to let you hide in that cave.”
She had a glimpse of his face, harsh and cynical as he said, “Perhaps that isn't your decision.”
“I'm the crown princess, I'm making it my decision.”
She silenced him before he could answer, kissing him again with purpose and urgency. Her life hadn't taught her to be a skilled lover, but she had something better than skill, a need to communicate with him through her flesh, and a feeling in her heart that she wouldn't acknowledge, but which drove her none the less.
She could feel him trembling with the struggle going on inside, and she sensed the exact moment when he stopped struggling. He'd been holding himself taut in defense against her, but suddenly the tension went out of him and his body seemed to relax against her. Then his arms went around her and he had taken charge, full of anger and resentment at how she'd broken through his guard, but unable to prevent it.
“You're playing a dangerous game, Dottie,” he growled.
“Who's playing games?” she whispered against his mouth. “Kiss me.”
She barely got the last word out before he smothered her mouth again, kissing her with a fierce skill that showed her she was just an amateur. But she was learning fast. Sliding her hands along his arms, feeling the swell of muscles, it was as though she'd never touched a man before. Nor had she. Only boys, as unskilled as herself, callow lads who'd deferred to “Steamroller Dottie.” But this man had deferred to nobody until she came along, and now he was in no mood to defer to her. She'd unleashed something she couldn't control, and it was the most thrilling event of her life.
Her heart was hammering. Briefly, it was alarming how everything was slipping out of focus, but then she didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered beyond this moment, her old life, her new life, Mike…
Mike!
She pulled back, gasping as the world returned abruptly. “Oh no, I can't…please let me go.”
He did so, staring at her with a brow of thunder. Even so, he was more in command than she.
“I shouldn't have done that,” she said in horror. “Why didn't you stop me?”
“Her Royal Highness's word is law,” Randolph said ironically.
“Is that the only reason why you kissed me back? To humor me?”
“Is that why you think I did?”
“Don't confuse me with questions. Oh, I'm terrible. How could I do that to poor Mike?”
Randolph made a sound of disgust. “Do you realize that's how you always talk about him? To you he's always poor Mike. If a woman's really in love with a man she doesn't talk about him like that.”
“That's not true,” she flashed. “I've always been in love with Mike.”
“Perhaps that's why you aren't anymore,” he suggested, his eyes full of the things she was trying to pretend weren't true.
“You know nothing about it.”
“I know how you kissed me just now. I know that it was your kiss. What more do I need to know?”
“That's right, jeer at me.”
“I'm not jeering, merely pointing out that all this maidenly reticence is a little out of place.”
“Because I came on to you, right? Well, I shouldn't have done, and I wish I hadn't. I'd forgotten what you're really like.”
“And what am I really like?”
“Everything's planned, isn't it? Draw people in so that you can use them, and then fend them off when they try to be nice to you. Oh boy, am I glad I'm going home soon!”
“Dottie, listen-”
“No, I'm going back. Don't come with me.”
“I have to.”
Suddenly inspired she flashed, “Then you can follow me 'at a respectful distance.' There! Is that royal enough for you?”
She fled back to her horse, so furiously upset that she actually managed to mount without assistance, which she usually couldn't do. By the time Randolph reached his own horse she was far ahead, galloping madly.
All over Elluria the mail deliveries were being watched with feverish excitement. A grand ball would put the seal on the new queen's acceptance, and not to be invited meant social death. As the last of the invitations arrived there were sighs of relief and groans of despair.
The chandeliers in the great ballroom were taken down and each tiny facet washed separately. The finest crystal was retrieved from cupboards. The palace gardeners worked overtime tending hothouse blooms to adorn the public rooms.
Dottie's dress was a masterpiece of blue satin, heavily embroidered and studded with jewels. On her head she would wear a diamond tiara that had been in the family for three hundred years. A matching diamond necklace and bracelet completed her adornment.
“You look gorgeous, Dot,” Mike breathed when he looked in on a fitting. Aunt Liz had stepped out for a moment and they were alone.
She wondered fleetingly how she would look to Randolph. Would he think her beautiful? He'd been away for the past couple of days, and she didn't know when he'd return. That was good, she told herself. The thought of their last meeting still made her go hot and cold with shame.
“Dot? Are you there?”
“Sorry,” she said hastily, returning to the present. “How are you managing, darling? I gather they're fixing you up with white tie and tails!”
He made a face in which disgust and unease were mingled, and she burst out laughing. Then she kissed him more tenderly than usual. She was feeling guilty about Mike these days.
“And I'm having dancing lessons,” he said. “I told them I didn't need that. A waltz is easy-one, two, three, one, two, three. What else do you need?”
“I said the same,” Dottie replied, carefully removing the magnificent jewelry. “But I have to learn all the other stuff, too. Fancy doing the quickstep and wondering if your tiara's falling off.
“Undo me,” she begged. He pulled down the zip at the back, and steadied her as she stepped out of the dress. Still in her slip, she draped the lovely dress over the back of a chair then turned to him with mischief in her eyes. “One, two, three?” she said.
“You're on. Can I have the first waltz, madam?”
But she shook her head in mock horror. “Oh no, you have to wait for me to invite you. If I deign to honor you, a footman will approach and ask if you would like 'the honor of dancing with Her Royal Highness.”'