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Read Online The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) by Suzette Hollingsworth - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Suzette Hollingsworth
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seemed his beard grew longer and more pointed.
“The truth,” she added quickly, swallowing hard, “is that Eastern music actually requires extra training. I apologize that I am unable to sing this more difficult music, Grand Seignior.”
A slow smile came to the sultan’s lips. “I found nothing lacking, Lady Nicolette.”
“Thank you, Grand Seignior. I am much gratified.” Her courage was waning, and she found that she was having trouble keeping her heart in her chest. Her father squeezed her hand, but his eyes remained straight ahead.
The sultan snapped his fingers and a servant walked forward, carrying a stunning assortment of silks, satins, mohair, and cashmere. Nicolette felt her eyes open wide at the beauty of the fabrics. One of the turquoise silks in particular would make an exquisite gown for her mother. Unwittingly she smiled widely at the sultan before catching herself and turning to her father.
He nodded his curt approval, and she bowed her head, murmuring, “Thank you, Grand Seignior. You are most kind.”
“Sing again.” He nodded toward the center of the room.
“One more piece, and that shall conclude my daughter’s performance,” Lord Ravensdale stated clearly, bowing, the tails of his jacket swishing behind him. “She needs to eat her dinner and then retire to her room for rest.”
The sultan frowned but waved his hand in dismissal as he allowed himself to be lulled into a trance under the spell of Lady Nicolette’s performance.
Chapter Seven
This evening Love comes before Duty
— Georges Bizet, Carmen
She whispers in my ear
And brings me back to Life
The music filled his heart as water fills a drowning man’s lungs.
He fought the pleasure, knowing it to be deception. He had been taught over and over again that every joy was an illusion.
His life flashed before his eyes. He had imagined himself to be in love with his first, a stage actress. He had written her passionate letters and bought her expensive gifts.
She sold the letters to the king for a small fortune.
Remembering that she had traded his affection for money when he would have given her anything and the ease with which she forfeited his companionship, his jaw tightened.
But the feelings of betrayal only whispered to him. He was no longer controlled by them. His feelings were now only information, nothing more. He had finally learned.
Just as he had then functioned out of need, others sought the fulfillment of their desires. Could he blame them when he was no different? There was no such thing as love, pure and unselfish. Better that he knew how to obtain that which he wanted while acknowledging that it was all pretense, as was everything in life.
One played the game in order to procure a desired outcome.
Finally I will find peace. He welcomed his death. He longed for it.
He was nineteen years old, the crown prince of Spain, and on his deathbed.
I have failed at my duty . There is no shame greater than this. In one moment he saw his father before him, holding out the crown. In another instant he saw Esteban, his hand reaching out to him while moving farther and farther away.
Why doesn’t anyone give me water? He felt his mouth go painfully dry.
It seemed as if he had been begging for water for all of eternity. He shook his head back and forth, struggling to make his will known. The murmurs of strangers escalated all about him, speaking in a strange language he did not know.
Most of his life had been spent with strangers. Why should his death be any different?
A breeze caressed his face, carrying the aroma of exotic foods. Probably the thing that had poisoned him to begin with. He felt his stomach churn, but thankfully, there was nothing to expel.
Where am I? He tried to open his eyes but could not. Frantically he searched his memory. After laboring for what seemed hours, he saw in his mind’s eye dark-skinned men and veiled women staring at him as if he held their lives in the balance.
He wanted to
“The truth,” she added quickly, swallowing hard, “is that Eastern music actually requires extra training. I apologize that I am unable to sing this more difficult music, Grand Seignior.”
A slow smile came to the sultan’s lips. “I found nothing lacking, Lady Nicolette.”
“Thank you, Grand Seignior. I am much gratified.” Her courage was waning, and she found that she was having trouble keeping her heart in her chest. Her father squeezed her hand, but his eyes remained straight ahead.
The sultan snapped his fingers and a servant walked forward, carrying a stunning assortment of silks, satins, mohair, and cashmere. Nicolette felt her eyes open wide at the beauty of the fabrics. One of the turquoise silks in particular would make an exquisite gown for her mother. Unwittingly she smiled widely at the sultan before catching herself and turning to her father.
He nodded his curt approval, and she bowed her head, murmuring, “Thank you, Grand Seignior. You are most kind.”
“Sing again.” He nodded toward the center of the room.
“One more piece, and that shall conclude my daughter’s performance,” Lord Ravensdale stated clearly, bowing, the tails of his jacket swishing behind him. “She needs to eat her dinner and then retire to her room for rest.”
The sultan frowned but waved his hand in dismissal as he allowed himself to be lulled into a trance under the spell of Lady Nicolette’s performance.
Chapter Seven
This evening Love comes before Duty
— Georges Bizet, Carmen
She whispers in my ear
And brings me back to Life
The music filled his heart as water fills a drowning man’s lungs.
He fought the pleasure, knowing it to be deception. He had been taught over and over again that every joy was an illusion.
His life flashed before his eyes. He had imagined himself to be in love with his first, a stage actress. He had written her passionate letters and bought her expensive gifts.
She sold the letters to the king for a small fortune.
Remembering that she had traded his affection for money when he would have given her anything and the ease with which she forfeited his companionship, his jaw tightened.
But the feelings of betrayal only whispered to him. He was no longer controlled by them. His feelings were now only information, nothing more. He had finally learned.
Just as he had then functioned out of need, others sought the fulfillment of their desires. Could he blame them when he was no different? There was no such thing as love, pure and unselfish. Better that he knew how to obtain that which he wanted while acknowledging that it was all pretense, as was everything in life.
One played the game in order to procure a desired outcome.
Finally I will find peace. He welcomed his death. He longed for it.
He was nineteen years old, the crown prince of Spain, and on his deathbed.
I have failed at my duty . There is no shame greater than this. In one moment he saw his father before him, holding out the crown. In another instant he saw Esteban, his hand reaching out to him while moving farther and farther away.
Why doesn’t anyone give me water? He felt his mouth go painfully dry.
It seemed as if he had been begging for water for all of eternity. He shook his head back and forth, struggling to make his will known. The murmurs of strangers escalated all about him, speaking in a strange language he did not know.
Most of his life had been spent with strangers. Why should his death be any different?
A breeze caressed his face, carrying the aroma of exotic foods. Probably the thing that had poisoned him to begin with. He felt his stomach churn, but thankfully, there was nothing to expel.
Where am I? He tried to open his eyes but could not. Frantically he searched his memory. After laboring for what seemed hours, he saw in his mind’s eye dark-skinned men and veiled women staring at him as if he held their lives in the balance.
He wanted to
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