The musicians played from a raised platform in the middle of the room. The collection of songs was an interesting mix of classical and 1950s rock ’n’ roll. She shook her head at the travesty; Chubby Checker could not twist to this slow ballad, and neither could the guests. Meeting the eye of the violinist, Nyssa winked and snapped her fingers several times, indicating a quicker pace. With a sly grin, the woman complied, bringing the other musicians along with her. The result was something Nyssa could bounce her shoulders to as she finally made her way to the buffet table where she’d sent the stranger.
She hadn’t lied when she said orange caramel tarts were her favorite. The deep caramel paired with Zimrada’s mellow oranges was a treat natives enjoyed in the market. Perhaps Mr. Blue Eyes would be waiting for her and they could dance. He’d said something about choosing his destiny a long time ago. Nyssa envied him. Her fate had been chosen before she was born—a marriage, royal babies, the quiet island life. She’d done something thrilling tonight: she’d pitted her fate against destiny—the winner yet undecided.
A dozen-plus couples glided across the hardwood floor, keeping time with the string quartet as they switched to a Chuck Berry original.
“Prince Marius, so good to see you,” said a bold voice to her left.
Nyssa ducked behind a couple as they jitterbugged between her and the man she was supposed to marry. “Mother!” Nyssa hissed. No wonder the queen sounded so pleased with herself on the video call. Marius was a surprise, all right. Her mother planned this whole ball right down to the twinkling fairy lights, hibiscus and honeysuckle scent floating through the air, the tarts, and the romantic music. No doubt she hoped all of this romance would satisfy her “ridiculous romantic notions” and she’d fall into Marius’s waiting arms.
For a moment, she considered the option. Marius was more worldly than she, having traveled extensively. And his island was downright techy compared to her primitive island. She could easily hide behind the confident tilt of his chin. The safety net his presence offered was tempting, but not tempting enough.
As her decision solidified, she had to tamp down the worry that her mother also saw these qualities abound in Marius and lacking in Nyssa. Her parents expressed their belief in her ability to accomplish this task and gain the support of the American Navy, and yet they sent Marius as an official babysitter.
As her blood began to boil like the molten rock inside a volcano, her history with Marius played through her head.
Neither she nor Marius would take the throne, but a marriage between them would continue good relations between their countries, just like her parents’ arranged marriage had for Zimrada and Aradus. Nyssa didn’t believe Marius wanted to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him, but he had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility that had him sending her birthday gifts and making an occasional trip to Zimrada to see her family. The gestures were expected of one who would eventually ask to court her, yet Mother made a big deal out of each and every one as if it were a surprise and just the nicest thing anyone had ever done for Nyssa.
How pathetic did that make her look?
Blame it on American rock ’n’ roll, but Nyssa believed right down to her suntanned toes that a woman should love a man before they were wed. The queen was not impressed with Nyssa’s modern beliefs. “Love comes because two people pull together to get through hard times. It has been this way on our islands for hundreds of years.”
“We also used to pee in the ocean, Mother. No one said indoor plumbing was a bad idea.”
Her mother didn’t argue the fact—instead, she took away Nyssa’s CD collection for an entire month, which hurt more than an argument would have.
Pulling together in hard times? These were the hardest times Zimrada faced in over a century. Mother’s matchmaking skills knew no limits.
Well!
Mother had one idea for this evening, but Nyssa had quite another. She lifted her chest. She wasn’t on the island tonight. She was in America, listening to American music and wearing an American dress. If she didn’t want to spend the night making small talk with Marius and pretending their future was bright with happy sunrises, then she wouldn’t.
Feeling a rebellious side turning over in the surf, Nyssa ducked behind a bald man who didn’t have any eyebrows and melted into the palm fronds. He didn’t even turn to watch her disappear, as if women ducked behind him on a daily basis. Perhaps they did. He was big enough to hide comfortably. Almost as big as Kingston.
Speaking of Kingston … She’d left him at the door. He probably should be closer, but hotel security circled the room and he wanted to be near the entrance in case Mahana or one of his men tried to sneak in.
Satisfied that she’d remained undetected, Nyssa decided she might just spend the night in the trees.
Her moment of triumph was smothered quickly as a strong hand clamped over her mouth and an arm went about her middle. A slice of fear trilled through her veins and stole her voice.
Throwing her elbow back, she hit a wall of muscle. “Urph!” she exclaimed. She began stomping her feet, hoping to make enough noise to draw some attention with her strappy shoes. They didn’t produce more than a light tapping, and her captor easily picked her up and silenced her feet. She twisted, trying to find a hold she could use to cause some damage.
“Shhh. It’s me,” said a familiar voice. He relaxed his arm and set her down, allowing her to flip around in his arms.
“You!” Her handsome flirting
