The Prince Who Loved Me Part 12

"Pah!" she said. "Do not try to cozen me. I caught you trying to sneak away; do not deny it." She pointed to his riding boots.

He laughed. "Sneak? Through the front door in broad daylight? If I truly wished to slip away, you would not catch me."

"Ha!" She turned away, gesturing for him to follow her. "Come. Sir Henry has given over his Green Salon for my use while I am here. We will speak there."

This would be a good time to begin hinting to his grandmother that he was willing to change his ways and look for a wife. Then, of course, he'd admit to his intended target. He'd have to tread carefully and not give in too suddenly, though, or she'd know something was up. Tata Natasha was well versed in treachery. She would recognize it in another without even trying.

As they approached the salon, a footman hurried to hold open the door.

She paused beside the young man. "Papillon?"

"She has had a bath, as you requested, and is now being dried by one of the maids, Your Grace."

"Excellent. Once she's dry, put a blue riband on her neck and bring her here."

The footman bowed and the d.u.c.h.ess swept into the parlor, Alexsey following behind.

As soon as the door closed, he said, "Poor Papillon, to be forced into a bath and then made to wear a riband."

"She would not have needed a bath at all if you and Strathmoor would stop taking her out to visit every mud puddle in Scotland," she sniffed, settling onto an overstuffed settee.

He came to stand beside the fireplace, looking with approval around the small, elegant salon. "It was very thoughtful of Sir Henry to set aside a room for you." Decorated in gold and green, it was both cozy and imposing. Sir Henry knows my grandmother well. Very well.

She glanced about her with indifference. "I prefer red, but this will do." She gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit. We will talk."

She spoke in Romany, her eyes locked on him as if she wished to pin him in place. "Where were you yesterday after tea? You were there, speaking with the Murdochs, and then poof! You disappeared like a ghost."

Alexsey made himself comfortable in the chair. "After tea, I went riding with Viscount Strathmoor. We returned while dinner was being served, so we ate in the breakfast room." And drank a good bit of Sir Henry's best scotch, too.

All in all, yesterday had been a very satisfying day. In addition to developing a most brilliant plan to gain some freedom from Tata Natasha's incessant complaints, he'd also found a way to spend time with his Roza. After tea, he and Strathmoor had ridden to Ackinnoull Manor, scouting the least-used roads around the house. They had ridden near the house, close enough to see the rambling manor through the trees, but they hadn't visited. Not yet.

Alexsey wanted to give Bronwyn some time to think about their conversation and, hopefully, of him. He'd found himself thinking about her, too. Wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking. He almost laughed at himself. He rarely bothered with such idle speculation, and yet this time he was awash in it. Such is the price of being so bored-I am overly excited by every amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You should not have been late for dinner." Tata shot him an impatient look. "That was rude."

"Sir Henry didn't even notice. I know, for I spoke to him this morning and he asked what I thought of the lamb at dinner."

"I noticed." She shook her head, her black eyes dour. "You should find a good wife and have some children. That will cool this hot blood of yours."

"It would chill my soul, that's for certain."

"Pah! You do not know what it would do. But"-she eyed him narrowly-"what did you think of our tea yesterday?"

"I wasn't fond of the small sandwiches, but the tarts were excel-"

"Khvah tet! If you cannot be serious, then be silent." She waited for a second, her fingers tapping a rapid beat upon the arm of the settee. "You know exactly what I mean; what did you think of the Murdochs?"

"They seem like a fine family."

"They are more than fine. Though not wealthy, they are of exemplary birth. Lady Malvinea is the daughter of an earl, and Mr. Murdoch's family line can be traced back to William the Conqueror."

"You found out all of that at tea?"

She frowned. "No. Sir Henry explained their lineage to me. And you have not answered my question. What did you think of the Murdochs?"

"The mother seems frightening. She didn't stop smiling the entire time she was here. I began to wonder if she was frozen that way."

"She is a bit high-strung," Tata said grudgingly. "But a woman of sense where her daughters are concerned. What about the daughters?"

"The youngest told a very funny story about a ride she went on. She fell in the mud, and a pig-"

"Da, da. I heard it. What about the other?"

"The oldest daughter? She has a lovely laugh." He would bet his best dueling pistols that she had lovely b.r.e.a.s.t.s, too. "She was charming." And he was charmed.

"Yes, yes, but-" Tata leaned forward. "What about Miss Sorcha?"

He returned her look.

Tata raised her brows.

He lifted one shoulder. "She's very pretty, of course."

"Pretty? She's krysivyj." Tata Natasha glared at him as if daring him to say otherwise.

"Fine. She's beautiful. But she also seemed . . . rather predictable."

Tata Natasha muttered a Gypsy curse. "Oh! I would that you had given the poor girl a chance. Talked to her. Gotten to know her, at least, before you d.a.m.ned her with your words."

That was almost humorous, when he thought of how she'd done the same to Bronwyn. "Tata, I'm afraid Miss Sorcha's not-" He spread his hands wide. "She's not the one."

"How do you know?"

"I've met this woman. I've observed her. I've spoken to her. I even danced with her. And now I've had tea with her. And she's not for me."

Tata's frown deepened. "She's beautiful, young, well-born, intelligent-everything a prince would wish for in a bride and more."

"Except interesting."

"I can't believe you do not find her appealing."

"I find very few women appealing." He leaned back in his chair. "Father said it was the same for him until he met Mother. Then, he said, it was like a lightning bolt." Alexsey thought about how they looked at one another, how he often caught them holding hands or kissing as if they were newly married. And after so many years. That is pa.s.sion. "I don't believe I'll ever have that."

Her expression softened. "Oh, Lexsey. Who has hurt you so badly that you believe that?"

Surprised, he laughed. "No one has hurt me."

She regarded him closely. "Never? Not even once?"

"Not even a little. Am I not blessed?"

"That is not a blessing, but a curse."

"Nonsense." He winked at her. "You worry too much. Have no fear that I'll be hurt. I'm always in control of my emotions."

"And the women you have been with before this? Did you feel nothing for them?"

"Nothing that didn't disappear after I had to face them over breakfast twice in a row."

Tata Natasha threw up her hands, the sleeves of her gown fluttering. "Pah! I do not know why I even talk to you."

"Because I am your favorite grandson, and you love me more than all of my brothers."

"Nyet. You are the most frustrating of my grandsons. Find a good woman, marry her, have children-then you will be my favorite."

"Perhaps I shall settle for second favorite. What would that take?"

"Cease your infernal teasing. I am serious." She folded her hands together, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "Alexsey, it is fate that you are here. You will meet someone here who can make you happy and help you fulfill your destiny as prince, if you'll just open your eyes and heart. I know this. Do not ask me how, but I do."

"Are you a fortune-teller now, oh queen of the Gypsies?"

She didn't laugh. "I have the blood of a seer, da. But I have the soul of a grandmother and as the phuri dai of our k.u.mpania, I know things that can and will be."

"So you think love might strike me like lightning, as it did Father."

"The person struck by lightning doesn't always know it has happened, not at first. The only question is who the fortunate woman will be. If you won't have Miss Sorcha, we will keep looking. During breakfast this morning, Sir Henry mentioned a family that's related to the king. The MacDougals or MacDonalds-Pah, I can't remember, what with the MacThises and the MacThoses. They have two daughters of marriageable age-young daughters, well brought up, and quite beautiful. Those qualities are important to consider in regard to your official duties."

"Tata, I am one of four princes. Nikki will take the throne as the oldest. Grisha will oversee the army. And Wulf has the good sense to make certain the royal coffers are overflowing with gold."

"So?"

"So there is no need for me to marry."

"If you wish to wear the kaltso, you will marry."

"Grandfather already had the ring when you met him; he was not married."

"Your grandfather was different; he was responsible for his family from the age of seventeen. You had no such weight upon your shoulders."

His jaw tightened. "You must admit that it is not a requirement of the position that I wed. It is only you who think it necessary."

She shrugged. "I will admit that."

"That's scarcely fair."

"You will be better for it. Trust me. It is the one thing your father and I agree on-that you should marry before taking on the kaltso."

"Bozhy moj, you and Father never agree on anything."

"We agree on this."

He slid her a look under his lashes and then pretended to frown thoughtfully. "That is too much, even for me. I can fight you, or I can fight Father, but I cannot fight the both of you."

Her gaze narrowed, an arrested expression on her face. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps you are right. I wish it were otherwise, but . . . Fine. I will start taking this endeavor of yours more seriously. As much as it pains me, I will start thinking about taking a wife. But just thinking about it. No more."

She couldn't have looked more pleased. "You mean that?"

He sighed. "I do."

"Very good. Very, very good!" She rubbed her hands together. "We must find a good candidate. It's a pity you won't give Miss Sorcha the time of day. Of all the women at the ball, she seemed to- It does not matter." Tata waved her hand generously. "If she is not for you, then we shall find another."

He rubbed his chin. "Actually . . . there was a woman I found intriguing. . . ."

She leaned forward, all eagerness. "Oh?"

"The oldest Murdoch daughter."

She sat back in her chair. "What?"

"She has a way about her. . . . I do not know what it is, but there was something. I like that she is no innocent miss, too. An older woman would please me."

"You are serious?"

"Of course. She is the only woman I've found interesting."

Tata made a noise that sounded like a cat choking on a piece of string. "Nyet! She is too old! She'll never have children."

"She's only twenty-four."

"Soon to be twenty-five, and would be even older by the time you courted and married her. Add another year to conceive a child, she could be twenty-seven or twenty-eight, much too old." Tata shook her head. "There must be someone else."

He pretended to think, his grandmother's eyes upon him. Finally he said, "Nyet."

She scowled. "Of all the women at the ball, you like only this one, a woman too old to have children, dowdy and plain and plump and-"

"Miss Murdoch is neither plain nor plump." To his surprise, a faint flare of irritation invaded his good humor. "She's attractive and lively. And for once, I have met a respectable woman I wish to know better." That was true, at least.

"She isn't-"

"Do you or do you not wish me to take my responsibilities more seriously?"

"I do," Tata said in a sour voice.

"Then stand back and let me. I will spend some time with Miss Murdoch, get to know her, see if this lightning strikes or not. And if, at the end of a few weeks, she still intrigues me, perhaps I'll ask for her hand in m-"

"Don't be so hasty! Courting is not something one rushes into."