A Kiss for the King Read online

  “I think you are too clever already!” the King remarked.

  “Too clever?”

  “You frighten me,” he replied, “and a beautiful woman is not required to have brains.”

  “That contention is completely out of date, as you well know,” Anastasia rejoined. “If the newspapers are to be believed, there are women all over the world who are beginning to speak their minds.”

  “And who do you think is going to listen to them?” the King teased.

  “One day you will have to do so. I know at the moment we have no rights, we are only the chattels of our husbands. But I feel sure the day will come when women will have more power and more consequence than they have now.”

  “God help us poor men!” the King said with an exaggerated groan.

  Then he asked more seriously,

  “Why are you not content just to be as you look? A pretty flower created by God for the delight of man!”

  “Because pretty flowers die!” Anastasia retorted. “I want to live and I want to live fully!”

  The King took his eyes from his horses to look at her.

  “That is something I feel quite certain you will do, sooner or later!” he answered. “But I am not certain yet if it will be very satisfactory from my point of view.”

  Anastasia did not quite understand what he was saying and to change the subject, pointed out a castle in the distance and asked the King to tell her about it.

  They reached the Hunting Lodge, which was a small house situated in the depths of a pine forest and found that luncheon was waiting for them.

  They were waited upon by servants, all clothed in national dress, who looked after the Lodge. The food was good, if plain, and the wines came from an adjacent vineyard.

  Seated in the small dining room with a table undecorated except for a bowl of flowers, Anastasia thought it was delightful for them to have a meal alone, while there was nothing about her companion to remind her that he was a reigning monarch.

  “What are you thinking?” the King asked when she had been silent for a few moments.

  “I was thinking,” she replied, “how much easier it is to talk to you like this. You are not so awe-inspiring here as you are when in the Palace.”

  “What you are saying,” he replied in his deep voice, “is that now you are thinking of me as a man.”

  “Yes, that is just what I was trying to say,” Anastasia replied.

  She smiled as she spoke.

  Then her eyes met his, and for a moment it was impossible to move.

  She found herself held in a way she could not explain. It was almost as if he was drawing her towards him and it was hard to resist.

  He had not moved, and yet she felt as if he had put out his arms round her. For a moment Anastasia found it difficult to breathe.

  She did not know what she felt. It was a strange sensation she had never experienced before and, because she was shy, her eyes dropped before his.

  “Last night, Anastasia, you challenged me.”

  Anastasia raised her eyes in surprise.

  “It is a challenge I have accepted,” the King went on, “to make you love me.”

  The colour rose in Anastasia’s cheeks.

  “I do not – think – ” she murmured, “that I meant – it – like that.”

  “What you said,” the King continued, his eyes on her face, “was that the man you will love must captivate your mind – and that is what I intend to do.”

  Anastasia felt her heart give a leap, almost as if it turned over in her breast. It was a feeling half pleasure, half pain.

  “Always in the past, I have desired and made love to a woman’s body. It is a new experience for me to learn that I must woo your mind – that intelligent, unpredictable little mind which both intrigues and surprises me.”

  There was a note in his voice that made Anastasia feel as if she vibrated to music.

  The King was watching her and after a moment he said very softly,

  “But may I be allowed to say that you are also very lovely and very – desirable?”

  Once again Anastasia found it impossible to look at him. There was an expression in his eyes, which made her quiver. It seemed to her there was a fire in the darkness of them, but she could not be sure.

  “Are you capable of love, Anastasia?” the King asked her.

  He waited, and as if he compelled her to answer, she replied after a moment,

  “Why should you – think I might – not be?”

  “Because,” he replied, “many English women are cold and restrained and what they would mean by the word ‘love’ is not what I mean by love.”

  “What does it mean to you?” Anastasia asked as if she could not help herself.

  “I am from the sun,” the King replied, “and to me love is an unquenchable fire, burning through every nerve and sinew of the body until one is utterly and completely consumed by the wonder of it.”

  His voice made Anastasia feel as if he had blown a fanfare of trumpets.

  “Would you stand aside from such a conflagration, Anastasia?” he asked, “or could you surrender yourself wholly to the fire of love?”

  There was silence and then hesitatingly Anastasia answered,

  “Mama said that a lady always – conducts herself with – reserve and self-control – her husband would not ‘expect otherwise’.”

  “That is your mother’s point of view,” the King said softly, “and it is what I would expect her to think. But you, Anastasia, are different. Is that how you expect and want to behave when you fall in love?”

  As he spoke, Anastasia knew that her mother’s attitude was not what she had dreamt and hoped to find some day. It was a touch of fire she had expected to feel when Christopher touched her, but it had not been there. It was a flicker of fire she felt deep inside when she thought of a man’s lips on hers.

  Her face was very expressive and after a moment the King said,

  “I am waiting for an answer.”

  There was a pause, and then Anastasia replied hesitatingly,

  “I – want to be really in – love – and I know it will be – very exciting – and very wonderful.”

  She paused and added almost in a whisper,

  “Like flying into the sky to touch the stars or diving deep down to the very bottom of the sea!”

  Her eyes met the King’s and Anastasia felt herself tremble.

  “That is what you shall feel,” he murmured quietly.

  There was a silence which seemed to be full of an inexplicable magic.

  Then abruptly the King rose from the table.

  “I think we should go back,” he said in a very different tone. “We have driven here through the mountains and I want to take you home by the valleys. It is a longer route, but you will see the villages and the people over whom you now rule.”

  “I would like that.”

  She felt so emotionally moved that it was difficult to speak naturally.

  She too rose from the table and walked to the window to look out at the amazing view over the countryside.

  Far away in the distance she could just see a glimmer of blue sea. Nearer there was soft undulating land, much of it green with vines, the rest vivid with flowers.

  She stood looking out and then became aware that the King had drawn nearer until he was standing just behind her.

  She had taken off her bonnet before luncheon and the sunshine was golden on her fair hair and her eyes looked very blue, as she turned round involuntarily to say to him,

  “It is yours! Your world!”

  His eyes were on her face as he replied,

  “Yet you told me yesterday that I had to conquer it, or be conquered.”

  “It is difficult to put into words, but perhaps the easiest way to conquer a country is through the hearts of its people.”

  The King’s lips twisted a little cynically.

  “I often wonder,” he said, “how the hearts of the people would react if it came to the
crunch. Would their affection stand the strain? Would they fight for their so-called loyalty to the Crown?”

  Anastasia thought before she answered him,

  “I think that one has to win their trust and faith. People, ordinary people, need to believe in those who rule them, and they must also be convinced that their rulers are right – right in their judgements and right in their actions.”

  “Who taught you these things?” the King asked sharply.

  Anastasia looked at him in surprise.

  “No one!” she answered. “I am just saying what I think and perhaps it is foolish! But I have never had a chance to discuss my ideas with anyone before.”

  “Is that the truth, Anastasia?”

  “Why should I tell you anything but the truth?”

  “Because you sound as if you have been sitting at the feet of Statesmen and they have put into your mind all the ideas they think I ought to hear.”

  Anastasia laughed.

  “I wish I could make you understand that until I became of consequence by becoming your future bride, no Statesman had ever condescended to talk to anyone so insignificant.”

  She smiled as she added,

  “Lord John Russell spent half an hour at Hampton Court Palace after I had been told I was to come to Maurona and the Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston, paid me some very pretty compliments at number 10 Downing Street. Otherwise, I promise you, my life has been very dull and quiet and Mama has spent her time telling me I do not behave with enough circumspection.”

  The King laughed.

  “You paint a very sad picture, Anastasia! If it is true, the butterfly has certainly shed its cocoon and is now a very dazzling creature!”

  “First I am a flower – now I am a butterfly!” Anastasia said pretending to be affronted, “and I do so want someone to take me seriously.”

  The King laughed again.

  “I promise you that they will put up a statue to you when you die. It will be on the Marine Parade and every man shall take off his hat to you as he passes!”

  “While the seagulls and the pigeons will treat it most disrespectfully!” Anastasia flashed.

  The King was still laughing,

  “Come along, I am taking you home. I think you have lectured me enough for one day.”

  “I did not mean to do so,” Anastasia said quickly, “please believe me! I was only putting my own thoughts into words.”

  “That is what frightens me,” the King remarked.

  She could not quite make up her mind if he was annoyed by what she had said to him or whether he was, despite himself, rather impressed,

  There was so much to see on their way home that it was difficult to have much serious conversation, but Anastasia was acutely conscious of the man beside her – a man who was wooing her mind.

  When they arrived back at the Palace, there were various matters for the King to attend to and Anastasia went up to her own suite.

  She found the boudoir opening off her bedroom filled with bouquets and flowers, which had been sent to her by some of the people she had met the previous day.

  There was also, Olivia told her, in another room a great pile of wedding presents that had arrived to swell those at which Anastasia had only glanced briefly the morning before the wedding.

  ‘I will look at them tomorrow,’ she told herself and went into her bedroom to take off her yellow gown.

  She lay down for a little while, then had her bath and was ready to join the King in the private dining room in the King’s Suite.

  There were innumerable rooms set aside for the private apartments of the King and Queen. Each had a sitting room, a private dining room and a small reception room where they could entertain rather than in the large Staterooms downstairs.

  There were rooms for the Ladies-in-Waiting and the aides-de-camp, and a secretarial office.

  The King’s dining room was furnished in the French style and there were some extremely fine pictures on the walls, besides Louis XIV gilt side tables that Anastasia learnt had come from the Palace at Versailles.

  She wondered if the Emperor of the French had ever wanted to take them back and then told herself that would be an indiscreet question to ask.

  It might also put generous ideas into the King’s head, so she contented herself with admiring the dining room table which, unlike the one on which they had eaten their luncheon, was decorated with gold ornaments and exotic orchids.

  “I said we would dispense with as much formality as possible while we were on our honeymoon,” the King explained as they sat down. “I knew it was what you would prefer, Anastasia, until you become used to the intolerable Court custom of having someone always breathing down your neck.”

  “I have enjoyed today,” Anastasia admitted softly.

  “So have I,” he answered and for no real reason she found herself blushing.

  The chef had obviously wanted to excel himself on the first night of their honeymoon, and long before the dinner had come to an end, Anastasia declared with a little sigh that she could eat no more.

  “You have such delicious food,” she sighed, “I shall become as fat as a German Frau and none of my beautiful new gowns will fit me.”

  “I never think of you as having German blood,” the King said, and remembered he had said very much the same thing once before.

  “I find it hard to think of it too, but Papa was half English and his grandmother was Austrian. So I think the truth is that I am rather a mongrel, if predominantly English.”

  “Now I understand!” the King exclaimed with a twinkle in his eye. “Mongrels are believed to be far more intelligent than pedigree dogs.”

  “You are making me nervous,” Anastasia said. “I shall definitely have to think before I speak, as Mama has always begged me to do and in consequence I shall only make the most inane and nonsensical remarks.”

  “I like you just as you are, Anastasia”

  Once again their eyes met and the expression in his made her feel shy and strange in an exciting way.

  They sat talking for a long time at the table.

  The King told Anastasia many historical facts about the Mediterranean countries she had not known before.

  “The Greeks worshipped Aphrodite as the Goddess of Love,” he said, “and the Romans called her Venus.”

  He paused then asked,

  “If you had the choice, Anastasia, would you like to be the Goddess of Love or the Goddess of Learning?”

  Anastasia thought in some way he was testing her, but she answered honestly and quite seriously,

  “I would – rather be the Goddess of Love.”

  Seeing a sudden glint in the King’s eyes she knew it was the reply he wanted and she could not prevent the colour rising in her cheeks.

  She rose from the table and they went next door into the sitting room.

  It was very comfortable and more masculine than any other room Anastasia had seen in the Palace.

  There were deep leather armchairs, sporting prints on the walls and a number of trophies that the King had shot at one time or another. There were the heads of a wild boar and a bear, several antlers, some stags’ horns and some lesser but rarer deer, all labelled with the year in which they had been shot.

  Anastasia was just asking him to tell her some of his sporting experiences when a servant came into the room with a note on a gold salver.

  “This has been brought for Your Majesty,” he announced as he bowed, “and it is of the utmost urgency!”

  Anastasia glanced at the envelope as the King picked it up. She could see the insignia on the back and was certain it incorporated the fleur-de-lis.

  “Please forgive me, Anastasia,” he, said as the flunkey handed him a pointed letter opener.

  He slit the top of the envelope and drew out a piece of writing paper.

  Anastasia longed to know what it contained. It could not have been a long letter, for the King barely glanced at it before he said,

  “Inform the messenger th
at the request is granted.”

  The flunkey bowed and went from the room.

  There was a silence during which Anastasia was certain that the King was choosing his words with care.

  After a moment he said,

  “There is someone I have to see. It will not take long. It is, I understand, a matter of importance.”

  “But of course. Shall I wait here for you?”

  The King glanced at the clock.

  “I feel you must still be tired after the exhaustion of yesterday. Why do you not go to bed, Anastasia? I will come to you later.”

  “Yes, of course,” Anastasia replied, “but please don’t be too long or I shall fall asleep. I have a lot more subjects I wish to discuss with you.”

  She smiled as she spoke but the King was not looking at her.

  He turned and opened not the door onto the corridor as she had expected, but that into the dining room they had just left.

  Anastasia had already realised that in the King’s apartments, as in her own, all the rooms were intercommunicating so that she could move from one to the other without encountering the sentries who were stationed outside in the corridors.

  The King closed the door of the sitting room behind him and with a little throb of her heart she was quite certain that he was going to the farthest end of his suite, to his private room where there was a staircase to the ground floor.

  ‘And who would be meeting him there but the Comtesse?’ she asked herself.

  She could not be certain, but somehow her suspicions seemed very compelling. She felt a sudden blaze of anger that the end of their happy day together, the first day of their honeymoon, had been disrupted by the Frenchwoman and her note.

  Anastasia pulled open the door leading from the sitting room into the King’s bedroom.

  She had no intention of returning to her own suite by means of the corridor, when she would be seen by the sentries, who would then be aware that the King had left her alone.

  She passed through his bedroom without noticing the magnificence of it and went through the communicating door into her own room.

  The fire was burning in the grate and the candelabra were lit on the dressing table and beside the bed.

  There was the fragrance of flowers and the whole room seemed welcoming and very attractive, but Anastasia was deep in her own thoughts as she moved towards the bell pull.