Princess Charming (16 page)

His fingers gently traced the deep indentions on her flesh. “You have beautiful breasts … too beautiful to suffer such abuse.”

As he pressed her back into their makeshift bed, her heart began thudding in her chest. “Lord Beaufort …” she protested. “You promised not to seduce me.”

“I never promised. I said I was too weary last night to think of seduction. This morning is a different matter altogether.”

She watched helplessly as he covered her breasts with his warm hands, aroused by his touch.

“Let me soothe your hurt, sweetheart,” he murmured as he bent down to kiss the swells.

Maura’s breath fled altogether then. When he took one rosy nipple in his mouth, she let out a soft whimper and shut her eyes at the delectable sensation.

His sensual assault continued, his hot lips suckling, his rasping tongue taunting and teasing. Then he moved to her other breast, filling her with pleasure, making her quiver.

Moaning, she tilted her head back to give him greater access. By now tremors were flooding her body, while between her thighs, desire throbbed.

Yet strangely enough, he suddenly left off. With one, final, soothing kiss to her chafed skin, Beaufort pushed himself up and heaved a sigh. “I regret I cannot do more than merely worship your lovely body.”

Her eyes flew open, and she saw hot desire gleaming in his green gaze.

“Why did you stop?” she asked unsteadily.

He pulled her to a sitting position and helped her don her coat again. “Because my conscience won’t allow me to go any farther.”

Her brows drew together in puzzlement. “I thought you didn’t care a whit about propriety.”

“Normally I don’t. But seducing a virgin under my protection would hardly be honorable, now would it?”

Maura swallowed her sharp disappointment. “No, it wouldn’t—but I am astonished
you
realize it.”

He smiled. “You should count yourself fortunate, love. It is not like me to be so noble.”

She heard the rueful humor in his voice, yet she didn’t believe him. His nobility went deeper than his blue blood, she was certain of it.

He proved her point when he planted a light kiss on her hair and then changed the subject. “What do you say that we take to the road now rather than waiting until dark? I know you wanted to hide out during the day and only travel at night, but it might be best to put some distance between ourselves and Deering. And while this barn is pleasant enough, killing time here for an entire afternoon is not high on my list of delights, no matter how stimulating the company.”

Collecting her dazed senses, Maura frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose that might be wise. If we keep to the country lanes, we should be able to avoid detection, even if Deering somehow has managed to pick up my trail from London. I have a rough map of the district, which Gandy had his friend draw up.”

“That Gandy of yours is highly resourceful,” Beaufort observed.

Maura’s heart warmed at the mention of the elderly man who had been more like an uncle than steward to her since her father’s passing. “He is indeed. I don’t know what I would have done without him these past two years after losing my father.”

Beaufort rose to his feet and began folding the blanket.
“The water bucket is almost full. I’ll step outside and give you privacy to wash.”

Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Maura nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Shall I assist with your bindings?” he asked helpfully, the amused note in his tone indicating that he was provoking her again.

She couldn’t stop a fleeting smile. “Not this time, my lord,” she replied, “although your generosity is duly noted.”

She was thankful that Beaufort’s honor had curbed his lustful impulses, and yet strangely regretful as well.

A foolish sentiment, Maura warned herself as she gathered her cloak and other belongings and followed him down from the loft.

While eating a hurried meal of bread and cheese, she showed Beaufort her hand-drawn map and debated the best route for their journey. After saddling the horses and loading Emperor’s back with the peddler’s gear, Maura left five shillings for the barn owner and latched the door tightly behind them.

Then they got on their way, riding north and west toward Oxford, keeping to country lanes as they’d discussed.

Her spirits rose after the first mile, in part because the sun came out. In the brightness of a lovely spring day, it was easier to believe she might actually succeed in her mission. And yet she knew her optimism was also due to her traveling companion.

She still felt a strong undercurrent of sexual awareness
between them, but strangely, there was little awkwardness, almost as if they had been together for years.

Eventually, however, Maura broke their comfortable silence to address what had been preying on her mind since yesterday. “Katharine confessed that she is attempting to matchmake for you.”

“So she is,” Beaufort agreed mildly, not nearly as disturbed as Maura expected.

“I am surprised you sound so calm. To hear Kate tell it, females have been relentlessly hounding you to marry for years. You can’t be happy that she has joined their ranks.”

“She claims she has only my best interests at heart.”

Maura studied him in surprise. “Well, she has gone daft if she thinks we will play the part of legendary lovers to prove her ridiculous theory.”

Beaufort shook his head. “I’ve come to believe her theory is not as farfetched as I first presumed.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You must realize that our Wilde family history is rife with famous lovers—both our ancestors and more recently. My own parents’ romance was legendary, as was Skye and Quinn’s parents’. Kate is hoping I will follow tradition and find a grand passion in marriage with my soul mate. It’s a family legacy.”

Maura stared at him. “Are you saying you actually believe that certain people are fated to be together?”

“I cannot discount it.”

This astonishing admission left her momentarily speechless. It stood to reason that Beaufort took pride in his family name. Wildes were known for their passionate natures as well as for creating scandals. But none of that applied to her, Maura reasoned.

“Well, perhaps
your
family is accustomed to imitating legendary lovers in fairy tales, but mine is not. The very notion of my being Cinderella is absurd. I bear little resemblance to the girl in Perrault’s tale. My stepmother never made me sit among the ashes or sent me off to a cold garret, and my stepsisters are sweet, lovable girls. And more to the point, I most certainly do not need or want a prince to come to my rescue.”

“I well know it,” Beaufort murmured, clearly amused. “If I had ever mistaken you for a damsel in distress, you would have obliterated my assumption countless times over these past two days.”

Suspecting that he was mocking her, Maura went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I refuse to be the pitiful weakling stepchild who cannot fend for herself and must rely on magic to win a husband.” She sent him a narrow-eyed glance. “I am not looking to marry anyone, your lordship. You needn’t worry that I will cast my lures at you.”

“It never once crossed my mind,” he said dryly. “But you have aroused my curiosity. I presume your father’s scandal is a prime reason you are still unmarried? And that your unsavory experience with Deering helped foster your dislike of men, or at least of noblemen.”

“It is true that Deering gave me a bad taste for noblemen.”

“That I can comprehend. Deering is a lecher of the first order.”

“What of your own lechery? All you think about is lovemaking.”

The slow, wicked smile he flashed her was pure, unadulterated charm. “I beg to differ. I frequently think about many other things. Just now for instance, I am
wondering where our next meal will come from, and where we will sleep tonight. But I admit, making love to you does have enormous appeal.”

Maura made a dismissive sound. “Let me be clear, Lord Beaufort, I have no intention of becoming your lover—legendary or otherwise.”

“Why not?”

The frank question made her falter. The brazen truth was, she wanted to know what Beaufort’s lovemaking would be like. She didn’t want to remain a chaste, lonely spinster for the rest of her days, never satisfying her feminine yearnings, her curious wonder, her craving for a tender touch.

And yet she had other considerations besides herself.

“I don’t wish to incite another family scandal, for one thing,” Maura answered honestly.

“Why would you fear a little more scandal?” he asked. “Isn’t that like locking the barn door after the horse has been stolen, so to speak?”

She almost smiled at his pointed reference to her.

“No, vixen,” Beaufort mused aloud, “you don’t strike me as someone who is overly concerned about propriety or what society thinks of her.”

“I do not care overly much,” Maura admitted rather quietly. “Society’s strictures became much less important after I lost my father. Compared to matters of life and death, some things just seem so … trivial. But I have to think of my stepsisters. I don’t want to hurt their chances to marry well.”

“If your theft lands you in prison, it will surely hurt their chances. If you really cared about them, you would return to London immediately.”

Maura knew he was right about prison. “I do care
about them, so my best course is to keep my distance. My stepmother will disown me anyway, once she learns what I have done.”

“In that case, us becoming lovers shouldn’t matter.”

“Your motives matter to me,” Maura retorted. “As I said, I believe you are amusing yourself at my expense. I have no desire to be the plaything for a bored aristocrat who is only searching for entertainment.”

“You are certainly a cure for my boredom,” Beaufort agreed. “But I am not merely thinking about myself. It seems a shame, all that fire and passion of yours going to waste.”

“What about your professed intention to be noble? You said last night that seducing me would be dishonorable.”

“So it would. But if
you
make the choice, the equation would change entirely.”

At the distinction, her brows drew together. “I am curious. Would you let your sister take a lover?”

The look on his face answered the question for her.

“I didn’t think so,” Maura said archly.

“As you mentioned last night, you are not my sister.”

“You are trying to protect me as if I were—at least when you are not thinking about seduction.” She returned to a familiar theme. “You know you don’t need to make this journey with me, Lord Beaufort.”

“I thought we settled this issue last night. I am not letting you hie off to Scotland alone.”

“I am quite accustomed to being alone.”

“A pity. That cannot be enjoyable for you.”

Maura had no response for his apt observation. It felt as if she had been alone for a very long time—first
because her father had focused his love and attention on his second family, and more recently, with Katharine and Skye in London, living their own lives. Sometimes the loneliness had overwhelmed her.…

Maura shook herself out of her reverie. If she hoped to defend herself against Beaufort’s wicked charm, she had to keep her emotions in check. She couldn’t dwell on how much he eased her loneliness.

Or how fiercely she was attracted to him.

Or how wonderful it had felt lying with him last night, wrapped in his arms, safe and warm and protected.

“I think perhaps the horses need rest and water,” Maura announced abruptly.

From Beaufort’s knowing look, she realized the discussion was not finished, but she turned off the lane and headed across a meadow in search of a stream.

After dismounting, they allowed the horses to drink and graze while they ate the remainder of her provisions for lunch. The trouble came when they prepared to mount again. Maura had removed her floppy hat, and when she tried to replace it, some locks of her hair tumbled free of their pins.

“Allow me,” Beaufort offered.

She stood obediently as he repinned her tresses, but when he tucked a stray wisp beneath her hat brim, his fingers brushed her cheek. At the intimate gesture, the sharp sexual awareness lingering in her body returned with a vengeance; that same, tingling, nervous sensation Maura felt whenever Beaufort was near.

Her eyes locking with his, she saw hot sparks of desire flash there in the green depths. Then slowly he
leaned closer, as if he might kiss her, and Maura dropped her gaze to his mouth.

A mistake, she realized, for she couldn’t help recalling how that sensual mouth had suckled her breasts with such exquisite tenderness this morning.…

The scorching memory made tension race through her, as did his caressing voice.

“Lovely Maura,” he murmured in the same husky tone he had used in the loft.

Maura swallowed hard, wondering if she would have the willpower to pull away when her own desire for him was so strong.

Beaufort himself, however, ended the enchanted spell. With a rueful smile, he lowered his hand from her cheek and turned away to see to the horses.

Back on the road again, they passed a small farmhouse and were hailed by the farmer’s wife, who mistook Maura for a real peddler. When the plump matron asked to see “his” wares, Maura had no choice but to stop. She wound up selling the housewife a rose-scented sachet and a pair of scissors, but it was Beaufort who turned the misunderstanding to their advantage.

Maura watched in awe as he sweet-talked the woman into supplying them mugs of ale right then, and for their evening supper later, two mutton pies, an apple tart, a loaf of bread, and a quarter rind of cheese.

Just one more example of his irresistible charm, she thought, shaking her head in helpless amusement.

The afternoon grew warmer, however, and depressed her mood once more. Whereas the night had been
chilly, the sun was now beating down upon them remorselessly, so Maura was glad when they had to stop to water the horses again.

She gathered that Beaufort was feeling the heat also, for he removed his coat and waistcoat and cravat. Seeing him clad in an open-necked shirt and tight-fitting buckskin breeches, Maura couldn’t help admiring his vital maleness. His shadowed jaw made him look slightly disreputable, so that he looked more like a brigand than a nobleman enjoying a ride in the country.