Chapter 20 #2
Not to mention that while everyone else was chatting away with great vivacity, she knew no one and stood by one of the giant flower arrangements, sipping her champagne and wondering why she had come.
This was Raul’s world, not hers, and she didn’t belong here any more than she had belonged in his arms.
She was about to dump her half-empty glass and leave the party when Bertrand broke through the crowd. She felt a little better when he whistled as he walked up to her. “Wow! You clean up well!” he said, touching his champagne flute to hers.
“You don’t look too shabby yourself,” she said, feeling like he had thrown her a lifeline.
“Come on over and hang out with the rest of us highfliers,” he said, nodding toward the other side of the room. “We’ve got a good view of the doors the royals will be coming through.”
When they walked up to the knot of her fellow pilots and their partners, Bertrand’s wife, Solange, said, “Love your dress. You look amazing.” Then she swept out her arm. “Can you believe this room?!”
“You look fantastic too,” Erica said before she turned to survey the gleaming inlaid wood of the floor, the vast chandeliers dripping with crystals, the elaborate flower arrangements in urns taller than she was, and the huge gilt-framed mirrors that doubled the size of the colorful crowd.
Serving tables covered in Calevan teal-green linen held elegantly arrayed hors d’oeuvres.
An army of servers in their matching green livery circulated through the guests with silver trays of drinks and more food.
Small tables with gilt chairs were scattered around the perimeter of the room for those who grew tired of standing.
“The Dragóns know how to throw a party,” Erica said, taking a sip of her champagne. The fizzing liquid on her tongue reminded her of drinking naked in Raul’s bed, and she choked as the memory sent a jolt of loss through her.
Bertrand thumped her on the back.
“I’m okay,” Erica croaked. “Just swallowed wrong.”
They chatted about the various wedding guests they had ferried in until a trumpet fanfare halted all conversation.
Everyone in the room pivoted toward the double doors at one end of the room.
“ Su Majestad el Rey Luis the Fourth of Caleva and Su Majestad la Reina Eve of Caleva,” shouted a uniformed man in a deep voice.
The king and queen stepped through the doors, the king in a tuxedo and the queen in a Calevan teal satin gown with a sparkling emerald-and-diamond tiara in her upswept red hair. A wave of bows and curtsies passed through the room.
“ Su Alteza Real el Principe Raul of Caleva and Su Alteza Real la Princessa Grace,” the herald announced.
As Raul smiled and strode in beside his half sister, Erica let her gaze linger on the well-tamed waves of his sun-streaked hair that shone in the chandeliers’ light and contrasted with the stark black-and-white of his tux.
The black fabric with its satin stripe made his legs look even longer than usual, and his highly shined shoes caught flickers of light.
There was not even the hint of a limp in his gait.
A shudder of longing shook her as she curtsied with the other guests.
“ Su Excelentísimo el Duque de Bencalor and Su Excelentísima la Duquesa de Bencalor,” the herald at the door shouted.
Another wave of bows and curtsies and enthusiastic applause flowed through the guests and servers.
The newlyweds strode through the door, and Erica grinned.
Gabriel had released his long dark hair from the ribbon that had held it back during the marriage ceremony.
Even in his formal tuxedo, he managed to look like a musician.
Quinn wore a beautiful white gown of tulle with pale pink lilies appliqued on its bodice and full skirt, and a glittering tiara in her brown hair.
What made Erica smile was that Quinn had on her black-rimmed glasses.
As the royals stood side by side in front of the crowd, the string ensemble began to play the Calevan national anthem. Many of the assembled guests sang along. When it was over, King Luis lifted the champagne flute that had been handed to him by a courtier.
“Thank you all for joining us to celebrate the formal declaration of the love between Gabriel and Quinn, now the Duke and Duchess of Bencalor. I have personally watched this love grow brighter and stronger with each passing day and know that it will continue to do so far into the future. While I have always considered Gabriel my second son, I have come to care for Quinn as my second daughter. It was my honor to walk her down the aisle today. Let us wish them a long and joyous life together. Qué vivan los novios! ”
The crowd responded with a loud, “Qué vivan!” and glasses flashed as they were tilted to people’s lips.
The bride’s and groom’s faces were incandescent with joy. When Gabriel leaned down to kiss Quinn, the whole room sighed.
Then the royals split up and walked into the mass of guests.
Erica followed Raul’s progress as he moved from one cluster of people to the next with practiced smoothness, chatting and flashing his brilliant smile, his head often tilted down at an attentive angle as he spoke with those shorter than he was.
She snorted as she noticed all the younger women—and some older ones too—maneuvering so that they would be in Raul’s path of progress. He seemed to know all of them, greeting them with polished charm, while they fluttered around him like butterflies around an especially desirable flower.
“Hey, Erica, how about a dance?” Gerardo, a fellow pilot, asked, startling her out of her morbid fascination.
“Oh, sure,” she said, just noticing that the string ensemble had fallen silent, and a band had started playing a famous Calevan waltz.
As her partner led her onto the dance floor, she searched for Raul’s sun-streaked hair, but there were too many guests.
Banishing the pang of disappointment, she threw herself into twirling around the dance floor.
When they spun into one corner, she glanced away from Gerardo to see Raul looking directly at her.
His professional prince smile was gone, and the set of his face was like stone.
And then Gerardo whirled her away, and she lost sight of the prince. She wanted to yank herself out of her partner’s arms and race back to Raul, but of course, she couldn’t make a spectacle of herself.
When the waltz ended, she and Gerardo started toward their friends.
“ Disculpe, Erica,” called a voice that made her nerve endings vibrate.
She turned to find Raul gliding smoothly through the crowd with a touch and smile to move people out of his way.
“Gerardo.” Raul nodded and smiled at the other pilot. “A pleasure to see you.” It was a greeting and a dismissal, and Gerardo took the hint, vanishing into the crowd.
“Raul, it’s good to see you,” she said.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, holding out his hand and fixing her with an intense look.
“What about your ankle?” But she put her hand in his, relishing the warm strength of his fingers as they closed around hers.
“It’s well wrapped,” he said, moving them toward the dance floor.
“No dancing.” She found the temerity to pull him to a halt. “Let’s find someplace to sit so you can rest it for a few minutes.”
He went still for a moment before he said, “Come with me,” and headed in the opposite direction.
Once again, he cleaved through the glittering, chattering crowd until they came to a paneled door.
Opening it, he ushered her onto a small patio surrounded by a high stone wall, covered in espaliered vaho hibiscus.
A few tables and chairs were arranged on the mosaic floor while flames flickered from metal torches bolted to the wall.
When the door closed, the sound of voices and music was abruptly reduced to a mere hum.
Raul turned to her, still holding her hand. “You look very beautiful. Like a goddess draped in liquid bronze.” His voice was deep and resonant. “I wanted to tell you that.”
“Oh.” She sounded breathless because his words had knocked the oxygen out of her lungs. “Thank you.” She inhaled. “You look quite handsome yourself.”
He lifted his free hand, almost as though hypnotized, and ran his palm over her bare shoulder and down her arm.
His touch sent heat shimmering through her body to pool in her belly, and she shivered at the power of it.
Without a word, he stripped off his tuxedo jacket to drape it around her shoulders, the satin lining warm from his body as it slid over her skin. Even though she wasn’t cold, she pulled it close. That was as near to having his arms around her as she could get.
For a long moment, they stared at each other, the air between them vibrating with longing and desire. He broke the spell with a wave toward the chairs. “Shall we sit?”
“Yes…your ankle.” Her brain was barely functioning, but she thought to pull one chair over to face another. “You can put your foot up there.”
“Gracias.” He settled into the chair and lifted his foot. “The injection I got this morning is wearing off.”
“You gave no sign of pain at the ceremony…or since then,” she said, sitting in a chair facing him. “No one would ever guess.”
“Except that I’ve avoided most of the dancing tonight.” He tugged at his bow tie. “Although I have to do the Baile del Dragón with Grace in an hour. Then Pater and Eve will depart, signaling that the staider guests should follow suit before the party gets loud.”
The Dragon Dance was a sedate version of a favorite Calevan country dance that imitated the courtship rituals of the famous lizards.
“Any news of the dragon or her eggs?” she asked.
He made a sound of frustration. “Mikel’s guys have posed as Customs agents and inspected every single package brought on board al-Buya’s yacht.
It’s been nothing but fresh produce, chickens, and magnums of champagne.
He’s had video surveillance on it as well, but no one has sneaked anything on illegally. ”
“So you don’t think it’s al-Buya?”