Chapter 8
She felt as if since meeting Prince Tomas, all she was doing was fleeing. From the very first meeting to just now. She was constantly running away to maintain her sanity.
Slamming the doors shut, she slid the bolt for good measure and went to curl up on the window seat. She had some hard truths to face. She was very attracted to him. He was way out of her league. He wanted to take her to bed. Instead of feeling flattered, which he no doubt thought she should feel, she felt repulsed. No. She shook her head.
Hard truths were what she was aiming for, and she was going to stick to them. She was frightened. What she felt for Brian paled in comparison to this. The man made her burn so hot, she felt as if she was on fire. Her nipples were still painfully hard and her core was throbbing.
If he had insisted, she would have allowed him to lay her out on the carpet, just like before. He was dangerous and she was going to have to stay far away from him.
Staring blindly out the window, she massaged her chest and took several deep breaths. She could agree to be in a relationship with Luther in order to put him off. It would just be friendship because Lord knows she did not want to use him. She liked him very much.
Rubbing her hands over her face, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes wearily and wondered if she was the type of woman to attract a certain type of man.
*****
"Mother, you found me." Tomas lifted his half-empty glass in a toast as soon as she came into the room. "How did you know I was here?"
Sofia closed the doors behind her carefully, before coming into the room. "One of the maids told me where you had gone off to."
"Have our guests left for the night?"
She perched on the edge of a chair facing the desk where her son was sprawled and studied his flushed face thoughtfully. "They have, yes. And you're drunk."
"Getting there," he told her with a lopsided grin. "If you're wondering about your assistant, she scurried out of here as if her dress was on fire."
"Darling," she began softly.
"I kissed her again and she kissed me back. I told her I wanted her and she said I was shallow and useless or something to that effect." He waved the glass and somehow managed not to spill a drop of the whiskey. "Said she was involved with that idiot from the gallery. I want you to fire him and have him deported. Make up something, something illegal to have him thrown out of the country."
"I will do no such thing."
"Then fire her." He lifted his glass and took a swig. "Before she came here, my life was perfect. I could be with any woman I wanted, go anywhere, and my emotions were not twisted up inside me. She has been here less than two weeks, and I'm all twisted up inside." He muttered something in Spanish that had her raising her brows.
"She's a bloody witch. The woman is not even my type. She's not my type. But somehow she had managed to worm her way into my life and into my bloodstream and I cannot get her out." He drank some more.
"I want her out. Now. I want her out of my life, out of my head. So, the logical thing is to fire her. Tell her you no longer need her services. Hire someone from here."
"I cannot do that," she told him gently. It marveled her to see him behaving this way. It also gratified her.
"I'm your son. You should think about me," he said, shaking his head to get rid of the haze put there by the liquor he had consumed.
"Are you in love with her?"
The question sobered him up and had him shoving his feet from the desk and sitting upright. "What nonsense is that? I'm not in love with her. It's just lust," he said, shaking his head again. "I'm not in love with her, of course. What kind of question is that? She's not my type. She's the help. She works for you. I shouldn't be involved with an employee. It's not proper. Madre de Dios," he whispered hoarsely. "It's just lust. Nothing more."
Putting the glass down carefully, he lurched to his feet. "I'm turning in now. I'm going to sleep and I certainly will not be thinking about her. This will all blow over, you'll see."
For the amount of alcohol he had imbibed, he found it surprising he could make his way out of the room and up the stairs.
Going to the base of the stairs to make sure he was all right, the queen went back inside the library and sat behind the desk. Picking up the half glass of whiskey he had left on the desk, she lifted it in a toast, a smile creasing her lips. "Finally," she whispered, before downing the whiskey.
*****
She was jumpy every time someone came into the room. Queen Sofia did not mention the fact that her son had herded her out of the room last night. She was behaving as if nothing happened. Antoinette supposed that she should take her cue from the woman and pretend that everything was fine. Carmen had told her as soon as she came in to draw her bath that the prince was "in his cups."
"I heard it from his servant who's sweet on one of the maids. The man was astonished. Prince Tomas went to bed with his clothes on and when Raphael, that's his servant, when he tried to get him undressed, he would not budge."
Antoinette was appalled at how much the servants tended to gossip. With the exception of Lucia, they all seemed to have fun doing it, which was another reason to stay away from him.
