Cynda dangled her fingers in the small fountain as she absorbed the night sounds of crickets and owls mixing with the trickle of the water. The rain had stopped, leaving a fresh scent in the air.
Normally, she had no trouble sleeping, but after the day off and the ride with Alexi, her brain was too active to quiet down. Was Alexi the one destined to kill Dimitri? His passion regarding the way his country should be run had surprised her, along with the revelation that he disagreed with Dimitri about it.
In the news article she had read, Alexi had become king of his country following Dimitri’s death. Other men had killed for far less. She sighed and splashed the water. She needed to learn more. Dimitri would never believe his brother guilty of violence unless she had some kind of proof.
“There you are.”
She jumped as the deep, accented voice erupted from the darkness, and she stared until Dimitri came into view. Though the night cloaked most of his expression, she could see the anger blazing in his eyes. Slowly, she rose to her feet to face him.
“I didn’t realize you were looking for me,” she said. “I thought you preferred to avoid me as much as possible.”
Dimitri hesitated for a brief moment. “I need to talk to you.”
“So, talk.” She crossed her arms, pretending an insolence she didn’t feel. “I might listen.”
“I know what you’re up to, and you will not succeed.”
“Excuse me?” He knew she was here to prevent his murder?
“I’ve met your type before. No matter what accusations you make, I will never allow Alexi to marry you.”
“Marry Alexi?” She nearly choked on the words. Accusations? What accusations? “I don’t want to marry Alexi, and I have not made one accusation of any kind.”
“You—” Dimitri broke off. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t want to marry your brother. Not now. Not ever.” She liked Alexi, but he didn’t stir her senses as Dimitri did. Even with him telling her off, her skin tingled with awareness, her pulse skipped beats, and her chest grew tight. “Why would you think that?”
His gaze narrowed. “What kind of ploy is this?”
She released her breath in exasperation. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“You were alone with my brother today in a very improper state.”
“Oh, give me a break.” Cynda stabbed her finger against Dimitri’s chest. “I was walking home in the pouring rain, and Alexi stopped to offer me a ride. I accepted. That’s all there is to it.”
Dimitri glanced down at her finger, then to her face. “Then, you do not intend to accuse Alexi of impropriety and insist he do the right thing?”
“Lord, no!” Cynda stepped back, her eyes wide. “You guys take this propriety stuff much too seriously in this time.”
“What does that mean?”
Realizing what she had said, Cynda grimaced. “Nothing.”
“Very well.” If anything, Dimitri’s demeanor grew even stiffer. “I apologize for my behavior. However, I insist you stay away from my brother in the future.”
Cynda barked a short laugh. This guy was way too full of himself. “You are something else. Forget it, princey. I think your brother is old enough to decide for himself who his friends are.”
“Then, you refuse?”
“You betcha. I like Alexi. Why can’t you accept that I can be his friend and not be interested in him romantically?”
“In my experience, women exist only to make a good marriage.”
“Well, that’s not my experience.” She had to stick around Alexi, no matter what Dimitri wanted. How else could she find out if he intended to harm his brother? “I have no intention of marrying your brother, but I will be his friend.”
Dimitri caught her shoulders and held her in front of him. “You will do as I say.”
“This is America, Dimitri.” She glared at him. “Created on the foundation of freedom. You’re not my prince. You can’t tell me what to do.”
They stared at each other. For a moment, Cynda imagined the storm had returned, for surely that was lightning crackling around them.
Dimitri’s grip tightened, then relaxed, and he lifted one hand to trace the line of her face. “You are a most unusual woman, Cynda Madison.”
Her closed throat made speaking difficult. “I’m just the first woman who’s refused to kowtow to you.”
A slow smile spread across his seductive lips. “I believe you are.”
Cynda’s stomach knotted. She couldn’t have looked away if she had wanted to. “Trust me, it’s good for you.”
He caught her chin in his hand and lifted her face. “Can I trust you?” His voice was husky as he bent closer to her mouth.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, anticipation igniting in her veins. She closed her eyes, eager to see if his kiss matched the passion of her dreams.
Abruptly, he released her, and her eyes flew open. He stepped back. “Forgive me. Good night, Miss Madison.” He hurried down the few steps leading to the fountain.
“Call me Cynda,” she said, not sure he would hear her murmur, her heart heavy with a sense of loss.
He hesitated, but didn’t turn around. “Cynda,” he said finally, then vanished into the darkness.
Cynda sank against the fountain wall. That was incredibly stupid. Now Dimitri would think she was chasing him.
“Damn.”
Dimitri brushed past the shrubbery, only vaguely aware of the branches snapping at him. How could he excuse such behavior? He had almost kissed her . . . had wanted to kiss her. After just warning her away from Alexi, he didn’t want to consider where the logic was in that.
She did something to him . . . made it difficult for him to think clearly. The foolishness of his impulsive action provided clear proof of that. He would have to stay away from her.
“Dimitri.” Alexi waited by the entrance, his expression for once devoid of amusement
Dimitri raised one eyebrow. “You were looking for me?”
“I wanted to speak with you about Cynda, but you already provided the explanation.”
Dread raised its hackles. “And what explanation is that?”
Alexi stepped forward to face him. “You don’t want me around Cynda because you want her for yourself.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Dimitri didn’t want her. He couldn’t. She was nothing but a servant . . . an untitled American. The effect she had on him was temporary. “Even if I did want her, I couldn’t have her. I must remember Anya. You know that.”
“That doesn’t stop the wanting.” A coldness appeared on Alexi’s features that stunned Dimitri. “After all, Father has a mistress.”
Dimitri scowled. “And you know how Mother feels about that.” His parents provided the appearance of marital bliss when social and political events called for it, but they hadn’t shared a bed in years. Dimitri didn’t want his marriage to be in the same mold. “I will not take a mistress.”
“Then, tell me why you want me away from Cynda.”
“Because she’s wrong for you. She’s nothing but a servant. I don’t want you to make a mistake.”
Alexi shook his head. “You are a . . . what is the word? . . . snob, Dimitri. The woman is beautiful, intelligent, fun to be with, yet you dismiss her because she has no wealth or title. Who is the loser there?” Whirling away, Alexi entered the hotel and stalked down the hall.
Dimitri sighed. His brother didn’t understand. He hadn’t been raised with the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. And often—far too often—duty came before personal pleasure.
And that included Cynda Madison.
“Drat, drat, drat.” Cynda hurried down the staircase, tying her apron behind her. She was going to be late for her shift. The battery in her watch had died two hours ago, and she just now realized it. Blast and double blast. She wasn’t likely to find a replacement battery here, either.
As she reached the hallway, she spotted Dimitri’s grandmother in the corridor leading to the bathhouse. No doubt, she was off to take the waters. Cynda had to admit they were soothing.
She had only taken a few steps when she heard a cry behind her and turned to see the older woman on the ground. “Oh, my God.” She ran to the woman’s side. “Grand Duchess? Are you all right?” The woman was conscious, but in obvious pain. She spoke rapidly in her native language.
“I don’t understand.” Cynda wished she did. “Where does it hurt?”
The grand duchess paused, then drew in a deep breath. “My leg.”
Cynda glanced around for assistance. She didn’t dare move the elderly woman. Spying Rupert at the far end of the hall, Cynda stuck her fingers in her mouth and produced a shrill whistle. It captured Rupert’s attention at once, and he came running.
“Go fetch the doctor right away,” Cynda ordered. “I’ll stay with the grand duchess.”
“I’ll be right back.” The young porter raced away as Cynda located the blanket the woman had been carrying and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“You’ll be fine,” Cynda said, kneeling beside her. The way the grand duchess held herself said something was broken to Cynda, but she was far from being a medical expert. “Lean against me if it will help.”
The woman eased her weight against Cynda with a small cry of pain.
“We have an excellent doctor here.” Cynda wrapped her arm gently around the woman to hold her steady. “He’ll take good care of you.”
Rupert returned shortly, followed by Dr. Ziegler, who knelt beside the grand duchess to examine her. “I believe your hip is broken.” He glanced at Rupert. “Fetch the stretcher from my office.”
The young man nodded and ran off again as Dr. Ziegler turned to Cynda. “You’ve done well. Can you stay a little longer?”
“Of course.” A tongue-lashing from the Major was far less important than this.
“What happened?” The doctor addressed the question to both of them.
Cynda answered first. “I saw the grand duchess on her way to the bathhouse, then I heard her cry out. When I turned around, she was on the floor.”
The elderly woman squeezed Cynda’s hand as she struggled to speak. “I caught my toe and fell.”
He nodded. “We’ll have you feeling better soon.” He projected a positive manner, but Cynda was sure the woman would endure more pain before the “better” part started.
When Rupert arrived with the stretcher, he and the doctor eased a sheet beneath the grand duchess, then lifted her onto it. She cried out, her face white, and Cynda held her hand tightly. “Can I do anything for you?” she asked.
“My . . . my grandsons,” she gasped.
“I’ll get them right away.” Cynda glanced at Dr. Ziegler. “Where are you taking her?”
“To her room. Run ahead and have her grandsons prepare her bed.”
She nodded and hurried toward the tower, where the truly elite stayed at The Chesterfield. She knew which suite the Karakovs occupied from the gossip that swept the resort, and rushed to rap on the door.
Dimitri answered her knock and scowled at her. Before he could reprimand her for trespassing on his territory, Cynda spoke. “Your grandmother fell. The doctor is bringing her here.”
Concern replaced Dimitri’s scowl. “How badly is she hurt?”
“I believe her hip is broken. The doctor will be able to tell you more.”
He nodded and reached in his pocket for some coins. “Thank you.”
Cynda stepped back. “Oh, please.” She allowed derision to color her voice. “I don’t need money for helping your grandmother.” Not waiting for his reaction, she spun around and dashed for the dining room.
The Major leapt on her in reprimand as soon as she arrived, but changed his tone upon hearing about the grand duchess. While Cynda went to her usual area, he hurried to check on the elderly lady’s status, Miss Sparrow accompanying him.
The evening passed slowly as Cynda waited for word on the woman. When Miss Sparrow didn’t return, Cynda assumed the worst. Maybe the grand duchess had been injured more than a broken bone. Maybe she was in serious danger. What if she died?
Would Dimitri and Alexi return to their homeland? Of course they would. Then, perhaps, Dimitri wouldn’t be killed in December. But even that thought didn’t alleviate the depression Cynda suffered on thinking of Dimitri gone. He was only a man from a painting, who had been far more rude than nice to her. Why should she miss him?
Good question.
When Dimitri and Alexi showed up late in the evening, she hurried to their table. “How is your grandmother?” Surely they wouldn’t be here if she was in any danger.
Dimitri’s gaze met hers. “In pain, but resting now.”
Alexi took Cynda’s hand and placed a kiss on the back. “Thank you for assisting Grandmère.”
“I’m just glad I could help.” Withdrawing her hand, Cynda avoided looking at Dimitri as she took their order. No doubt, he would be scowling again.
They were among the last to leave the dining room, shortly before it closed for the night. When Cynda finally finished her duties, she was surprised to find Dimitri lurking in the corridor near her stairwell. What now? Another reprimand?
She approached him with hesitation, then started when he bowed low before her. As Alexi had earlier, he brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss upon it. “Thank you for helping Grandmère. She said you were of invaluable service.”
Cynda didn’t rush to pull her hand away as he straightened. With her nerves sizzling, she could barely move. “I only did what anyone would do.”
To her surprise, Dimitri didn’t immediately release her hand. He glanced down at it, pale and small within his tanned broad palm. When he lifted his gaze to Cynda, she inhaled sharply at the fire burning there. “You have my deepest gratitude. My grandmother is very important to me.”
“I didn’t do it for you.” Despite the trembling within her, Cynda found the words to respond. “I did it for her.”
Dimitri gave her a smile that sent white heat through her blood. “Yes, you probably did.” He brushed his thumb over her hand, his touch electric against her skin, then released her and bowed again. “Good night . . . Cynda.”
She turned to watch him depart, cradling her hand against her chest. “Good night, Dimitri.”
For the next few weeks, she didn’t see either of the princes, not even at dinner. Evidently, they were spending time with their grandmother while she healed. Cynda had heard that the grand duchess’s hip definitely had been broken and she was confined to her bed for several weeks.
At least Dimitri wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
Cynda devoted her free time to painting, starting with the majestic Chesterfield. Setting up her easel across from the main entrance, she sketched the outlines of the expansive hotel and its single tower.
Learning how to mix the powders into paint took a lot of experimentation and produced creative, but unusable results until she finally created pigments she could use. The hours flew by as the rough outlines of the hotel came to life, gaining depth and soul as she added the color. More than once, she had to hurry to make her shift in the dining room.
Her life took on a rhythm—paint between shifts, wait tables the rest of the time. Though she searched for Dimitri whenever she walked the halls, she never saw him and consoled herself with a world of canvas and pigment.
She was adding the fine details to the balconies on the tower when she glanced up for another look and froze. Dimitri stood on his balcony, his face turned her direction. Was he watching her?
She raised her brush in a salute and experienced a quick rush of excitement when he nodded in return. However, he then turned and vanished into his suite.
How long had he been watching her? Minutes? Hours? Days?
“You have great talent.”
She jumped as a voice spoke beside her, and she looked around to see Alexi standing by the easel. “Thank you.”
She examined the half-finished painting with a critical eye. It was some of her best work. The resort radiated splendor and vitality. Of course, the different pigments helped in achieving that depth. Maybe she needed to live in 1889 to finally learn how to paint.
And here she figured she had come back in time to save Dimitri’s life.
Smiling at Alexi, she set down her palette and wiped her hands on an old towel. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
“Grandmère has been in much pain. Dimitri and I fear to leave her for long.” Concern shadowed Alexi’s eyes.
Cynda ached for the elderly woman. “Is she doing better now?”
“Much better. In fact, Dimitri said we don’t both need to stay, so I am making good use of my free time.” Alexi gave her a disarming grin, and Cynda laughed.
“Checking on my painting?” She shook her head. “I can think of many other things you might be doing.”
“I have seen you out here day after day working with such dedication. I could not rest until I saw the result for myself.” He frowned. “I did not mean to make you stop. Please continue.”
Cynda hesitated. She did want to paint while the light was still good. “You don’t mind?”
“Will it inhibit your work if I watch?”
The last time anyone had watched her paint was years ago in art school. “I don’t think so.” Lifting her palette, she quickly became absorbed in the nuances of The Chesterfield. She forgot Alexi was nearby until he spoke again.
“Have you had formal training?”
Slightly startled, she turned to smile at him. “I have a degree in art from . . . Her college hadn’t been founded yet. “I have a college degree in art.”
“Amazing. For a woman to have a college degree is truly rare.”
Cynda laughed at the awe in his voice. “Not that rare. Besides, it hasn’t helped me sell my work.”
“I would be proud to purchase this painting when you have it completed.”
Purchase it? She almost dropped her jaw. “I . . . I don’t need charity, Alexi.”
He scowled, resembling Dimitri even more. “I think the painting is superb. It will be a nice memory for us all when we return to our home.”
His earnestness touched her. “Very well. The painting shall be yours.”
“Excellent.” He bowed his head. “I am truly grateful.”
“And I am thrilled.” Returning to her work, Cynda lifted her brush with renewed excitement. Though she still suspected Alexi of making his offer out of kindness, she couldn’t deny the heady feeling of finally selling a painting. Maybe someday, she could actually make a living at this.
After all, she had sold to a prince.
Dimitri repeated Alexi’s scowl as he watched his brother hover over Cynda’s shoulder while she worked. He clenched the balcony railing. As usual, Alexi chose to ignore Dimitri’s warnings about Cynda. She was not the type of woman either of them could consider a future with, nor was she the type to dally with.
When Cynda laughed at something Alexi said, Dimitri tightened his grip even further until the metal bit into his palms. She attracted him, intrigued him more than any other woman of his acquaintance. Secrets lingered in the bright blue depths of her eyes . . . secrets he wanted to discover.
With Alexi, this was a game. No matter where they went, he found a woman to charm. Usually an unsuitable woman.
Dimitri sighed. He would be the first to admit that being the second son was a difficult position. Yet the responsibilities were not the same, either. While Dimitri had spent most of his life preparing for his eventual position as king, Alexi had run wild among the people, developing an affinity for them that worried Dimitri.
The years ahead would be difficult.
Glancing back at the front lawn, Dimitri discovered both Cynda and Alexi gone. He stiffened.
Where were they? Pushing back from the rail, he entered the suite, determined to find Alexi and drag him back if necessary.
“Dimitri?” His grandmother’s voice brought him to an abrupt halt. He couldn’t leave her.
“Yes, Grandmère?” He entered her bedroom, hating how she appeared so pale and fragile amidst the pillows. She had come here to strengthen her health in the rejuvenating baths. Instead, she was confined to her bed while her bones healed. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m afraid my water pitcher is empty. If you don’t mind . . .”
He bowed. “It is my pleasure.” Taking her pitcher, he filled it from the water tap of her sink, a modern convenience he already appreciated. After returning it to the table beside her bed, he poured her a glass and handed it to her. “Madam.”
She drank, then smiled at him, a hint of her former sparkle in her eyes. “You make an excellent servant, Dimitri.”
“I live to serve, madam.” Hearing the door to the suite open, he straightened. “Please, excuse me.”
Hurrying into the main room, he found Alexi pouring a drink, his expression satisfied. “Where did you go?” Dimitri asked.
“Worried about me, brother?” Alexi downed the drink. “Cynda needed to get ready for her shift, so I decided to return here. Were you thinking the worst of me?”
“I’ve told you to stay away from her.” Dimitri struggled to keep his voice low so that Grandmère wouldn’t overhear.
“And I don’t feel inclined to obey.”
Dimitri curled his fists tight against his side. “She is only a waitress, Alexi.”
“And a fine artist. I plan to buy the painting she’s working on now. It’s good.” Alexi settled into a nearby chair. “I wonder if I should sponsor her and give her the time she needs to paint.” He glanced at Dimitri, his gaze amused. “She really is talented.”
“You don’t have the means to sponsor anyone.” Dimitri bit out the words. They were cruel, but true. Alexi had no fortune of his own. Their father’s estates and income were entailed to Dimitri.
Alexi’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Trust you to put it so bluntly. Of course, I cannot afford to sponsor an artist or even myself without the kindness of our father.”
Dimitri sighed. “Alexi, I don’t—”
His brother waved aside Dimitri’s words. “I know who I am . . . what I am. I will never have anything unless it is given to me.” He jumped to his feet and headed toward his bedroom. “What would you do if I decided to stay here and start a new life for myself?”
Of all the nonsense Alexi had spouted during his life, this was the most insane. “That’s ridiculous. You have no skills, no way to support yourself.”
Alexi paused by his door. “You might be surprised.” He entered his room, closing the door behind him.
Dimitri ran his fingers through his hair. Where had Alexi come up with this madness? Dimitri would never allow his brother to remain here in this foreign land.
It had to be Cynda. She must have said something to encourage Alexi.
Glancing through the open balcony doors to the vacant lawn outside, Dimitri sighed. He had to find out.
Soon.