C.J. Miller - The Secret King

Casimir took a step away from the woman. “This is Princess Serena Alagona of Acacia.”

“Nice to meet you. Are you the one who’ll marry Samuel?”

Casimir shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, but Serena was intrigued by this intoxicated woman and what she had to say. “Nothing has been decided, but our countries are negotiating.”

The woman leaned forward and giggled. “I could tell you some hot stuff about Samuel. Most of the women in this room can. We’ve all slept with him.”

Serena hid her disgust and pretended she wasn’t repulsed by the idea of a slutty king who had invited his conquests to a dinner party with his future fiancée. “That’s a lot of women.”

Another giggle. “Not all at once. I mean, not usually more than one at a time. But sometimes.”

Serena’s hopes for a monogamous and meaningful relationship drifted further out of reach. King Warrington had been engaged to her sister. Was this woman speaking of the distant past? Could the king have been wild in his youth? Serena desperately wanted something to explain his behavior so she wouldn’t be doomed to a life of unhappiness. “The king enjoys spending time with a lot of women?”

“Sure. Of course. You’ll see. I’m sure you’ll receive the royal treatment, you know, one-on-one with him. But maybe not every night. He is easily bored.”

Was this a palace or a house of ill repute? “I see.”

She had been thinking that perhaps she could make this arrangement work, and maybe it was this woman’s intention to run her off, but after an altercation with the king’s mother and now this, Serena wanted more than ever to be home.

“That’s enough sharing. We can swap stories some other time,” Casimir said, leading the other woman away.

Everyone in this room must think Serena was an ignorant moron. If the women had slept with the king, were they laughing at her? The king might be tied to her in marriage, but would that mean anything to him?

She turned to her guards. “I’d like to leave now.”

They would not question her. As she moved toward the door, she tried not to think about what a spectacular failure this evening had been for her and her future with King Warrington. She had not made a connection with him. If anything, the experience had driven spikes between them.

She was on the front steps of the palace when she heard Casimir’s voice. “Your Grace, please wait!”

Her guards stepped between her and Casimir. “It’s okay.” She wasn’t mad at Casimir. Embarrassed by the king’s behavior and feeling like a fool, yes.

“Serena, those are wild tales about the king. He likes to have a good time. Don’t let a little provocation from his friends upset you. They are probably just having some fun at your expense.”

“He didn’t show up tonight.” Even if the stories the woman had related about Warrington’s bedroom behavior weren’t true, his absence couldn’t be disputed.

“He is being a fool,” Casimir said quietly.

“Seeing you again was the only thing that salvaged the night.”

She shivered and Casimir removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“I hate seeing you upset,” Casimir said. “And yet every time I am near you, you seem to be in that state. Let me do something that will make you happy.”

Serena felt the air sucked from her lungs. Was he planning to kiss her in front of the palace of Rizari? With her bodyguards standing around her?

“I will meet you in Acacia tomorrow,” Casimir said. “And I will bring a surprise.”

Not a kiss, but a promise of tomorrow. “Okay, tomorrow, then.”

* * *

Serena was too warm. She had her windows opened and the overhead fan running, but heat seemed to pour from her. Anger for one man and desire for another made her blood run hot.

King Warrington had humiliated her. She hadn’t been looking forward to the evening, but it had turned out worse than expected. With as much anxiety as she had about her social awkwardness and lack of finesse, her usually low expectations of social gatherings hadn’t been met.

Serena would rather focus on Casimir. When she thought of him, she felt white-hot desire. The emotion could be completely inappropriate given the recent deaths in her family, but it persisted. Having located Casimir, she’d thought thanking him for what he’d done for her would give her some closure about that night. But instead, she found herself longing for him more intensely. He had slipped his suit jacket over her shoulders and she had forgotten to return it to him. It was hanging on her bed post, which felt wild and forbidden. The pockets were empty, but the jacket smelled of him, like sandalwood and spices.

She rolled to her side, adjusting her sheets. Closing her eyes, images of her father and her sister’s bodies on the floor of the ballroom struck her. Nausea rolled over her. She opened her eyes. Maybe television would lull her into a mindless state.

She heard music as if caught on the wind, the light strumming of a guitar and the melodic sound of a man’s voice. Casimir’s strong, yet soft voice. Where was that coming from? Was she hallucinating at this hour? It was 1:15 a.m.

Looking out her bedroom window, she saw one of her guards patrolling her front yard. She knew at least two others were on the premises. Tugging a short robe around herself, she took the stairs to the main floor. On her wraparound porch stood Casimir, playing an acoustic guitar and singing quietly. She watched him for a moment, taking in how gorgeous he was. His dark silhouette was framed against the moon and the sea.

She memorized the image, thinking she could sketch it later.

Her heart was thumping as she walked outside. He continued playing, but had stopped singing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. The wind blew and she shivered.

“We made plans to see each other today. Since it’s past midnight, this counts,” Casimir said. “I couldn’t wait longer. I needed to see you now. I was serenading you.”

Her knees felt weak. She had never had a man anxious to see her. She held on to the back of one of her porch chairs.

She glanced at her guard, surprised he had allowed Casimir onto her porch.

Her guard’s shoulders tightened. “Do you wish to be alone, Your Grace? I overheard you agree to see him at the palace.”

She had agreed to meeting Casimir and she was happy he was here, at her beach house. Though they were not lovers, this had the makings of a secret rendezvous. She shivered at the thought. “Let me get dressed.” It wasn’t as if she had been sleeping anyway.

“You don’t need to change. You look good to me,” Casimir said.

Her legs were bare and her nipples were pebbled against the cotton of her tank top and robe. It was hard to believe he was actually here. “Want to come inside? I can show you where I paint.”

He shook his head and set his guitar on the porch, leaning it against her wooden chair. “No, we’ll save my first painting lesson for another day. Being in the princess’s house without a chaperone could be trouble.”

“My guards can be trusted,” she said.

“Perhaps I do not trust myself,” Casimir said. “Let’s go for a walk. You said you loved the sea.”

They started down the stairs and her bare feet sank into the cool sand. Her guard followed at a distance. As they walked along the water’s edge, Casimir didn’t touch her, didn’t hold her hand. His hands were tucked into his pockets in a boyishly charming manner. He had changed out of his suit and was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a navy T-shirt. She could make out the muscles of his shoulders, arms and chest. She suppressed the urge to run her fingers down the hard planes of his body.

“I’m glad you came to see me tonight,” she said.