The Trouble With Princesses (16 page)

Lady Sudcliffe!
He was promised to that notorious, overly endowed widow with her limpet blue eyes and her caramel brown lashes that she fluttered invitingly at every male who passed within twenty feet? The brazen temptress with her low drawl and throaty laugh that men apparently found irresistible? Ariadne had scarcely paid her any heed in the past; the woman was too ill-bred to warrant her consideration.

Now Rupert was dancing with the creature, was he? Sharing supper as well? Apparently being lovers with her meant nothing.
And why should it?
she reminded herself. After all, her arrangement with him required no emotional connection; it was an affair driven by mutual desire, no more, no less.

She smiled, seemingly unconcerned. If he could pretend there was nothing between them, then so could she. Of course, now she would be put to the bother of finding another gentleman to take her in to supper. Surely not all of the ones she’d refused had found other partners. A bit of light flirting should give her the information she required.

She snapped her fan closed. “Since you mention it, Emma, I believe I see my next partner. I think I’ll go over and surprise him.” She stood, refusing to look at Rupert. “If you will both excuse me.”

Emma’s crinkly frown returned. “Of course. There’s nothing amiss, is there, Arie? You seem . . . uneasy of a sudden.”

“Not at all. It’s only this heat. Our hostess ought to open a window or two—or doesn’t she know it is summer?”

“I believe she thinks it adds atmosphere to the crush.”

“If you like perspiring men and swooning women. Good thing I am not given to such unbecoming weaknesses.” She paused, unable to resist turning to Rupert. “You might want to check to make sure Lady Jane has her hartshorn, Your Royal Highness. I hear she has been known to drop at the slightest provocation. The bark of a tiny dog in the park apparently shocked her unconscious only last week.”

“I shall bear that in mind,” he replied in a grave tone, not rising to her provocation in any way. “Ladies.” He bowed, then turned away, disappearing quickly into the milling crowd.

Inwardly, she sighed, weary all at once and not at all in the mood for the party. If only she could go home.

She was buoying up her smile when Emma straightened abruptly in her seat.

“Only look,” Emma said. “Here comes Nick.”

They both watched as he approached, love brimming like a beacon in Emma’s eyes; it was an expression that was unmistakably returned by Nick.

What must it be like to be so truly loved?

“My dance partner must be stranded somewhere,” she murmured, after taking a moment to greet Nick. “I shall go rescue him. See you both after a while.”

“Yes, dear,” Emma said, her arm already linked through her husband’s. “Have fun.”

Ariadne nodded and moved away, knowing that the only kind of fun she had tonight would be for show.

Chapter Thirteen

A
riadne rearranged the mound of feather pillows behind her, then snuggled back against them, smoothing the sheets neatly at her waist. Picking up her book, she opened it to the marked page and began to read by way of a small branch of candles on her bedside table. The house stood quiet around her, everyone retired for the night.

After returning from the ball, she’d found her maid waiting. The sleepy girl had stayed long enough to help her out of her ball gown before seeking her own bed, with orders to sleep later in the morning.

Wide awake despite the late hour, she’d decided to read, hoping it would lull her into a state of relaxation. But the printed words held little sway, her mind returning again and again to the disappointing evening just past.

But I am not going to think about it. Just as I am not going to think about Rupert.

A low sound of displeasure rumbled under her breath. Her jaw tight, she returned to her book.

Ten minutes later she closed the volume with a snap and tossed it aside, deciding that the exercise was useless. She might as well try going to sleep. Maybe if she snuffed out the candles the darkness would be able to do what the book had not.

Leaning over, she reached out to extinguish the small flames. As she did, she heard a light scrape at the door, so faint that for a moment she wondered if she had imagined it.

She froze, listening.

Then the doorknob turned and Rupert walked in, closing and locking the door silently at his back.

He was attired in a dark blue robe, belted at the waist, the royal crest of Rosewald embroidered in gold on the breast. He wore slippers, but the feet inside them were bare, as were his muscled calves. His hair was damp but neatly combed, and his cheeks recently shaven, if she wasn’t mistaken.

He strolled toward her as if he were in the habit of doing so every night, his quiet arrogance remarkable to behold.

Briefly, her lips parted on a stunned inhalation before she recovered herself. “And just what do you think you’re doing here?”

He continued forward, stopping only when he reached the bed. “The answer to that should be obvious. I thought we would enjoy another lesson.”

After ignoring me all evening? Hah!

She crossed her arms. “Well, you thought wrong. I was about to go to bed.”

His lips curved, showing his teeth to devastating effect. “But you are already in bed. Why have you braided your hair?”

“I always braid my hair to sleep.”

“You’ll have to stop. I want it left loose from now on.”

“I really don’t care what you want. I am tired and wish to sleep. Go away, Your Royal Highness.”

She made a shooing motion with her hand.

He ignored her and reached for the tie on his robe. With a smooth, economical shrug, he removed it and went to drape the garment over a nearby chair.

She stared, unable to look away from the magnificence of his wide shoulders, sculpted chest, long arms, and flat stomach—every inch of which was bare. She’d never seen a man’s naked torso before—although she’d spent plenty of time studying them in paintings and sculptures. The real thing was by far superior to the facsimile.

Saliva pooled in her mouth and she swallowed hard, her breath hitching as her eyes moved lower.

A pair of fine cotton men’s drawers rode low on his narrow hips, clinging in a way that only enhanced his bold sexuality. A light sheen of golden hair dusted his chest and extremities, giving him a burnished quality in the mellow candlelight. He was, as always, nothing short of beautiful.

He caught her arrested expression and smiled. “Since you showed me your drawers earlier, I thought it only fair to return the favor. You’re not still wearing yours, are you?” he added hopefully.

Heat spread into her cheeks.

It’s just anger,
she told herself.
Simple irritation at his effrontery.

“No,” she said as coldly as she could manage. “Now put your robe back on and leave. I am not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” His gaze dropped to the bodice of her nightgown. “Your nipples don’t seem to agree.”

Only sheer willpower kept her from folding her arms over her traitorous breasts. She donned her haughtiest expression. “I’m cold.”

He tossed his head back on a laugh. “You’re delightful, is what you are, Ariadne. I don’t know why I didn’t realize that sooner.”

“Oh, so I’m delightful now, am I?” she said sarcastically. “You certainly didn’t seem to think so earlier this evening at the ball.”

“Is that what has you miffed? Because I didn’t ask you to dance?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed untruthfully. “If you’re in the mood to play tonight, why don’t you see if Lady Sudcliffe will accommodate you?”

He regarded her for a long moment. “So you don’t mind if I seek out other women while we’re”—he waggled a pair of fingers meaningfully—“involved?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Why should I care if you keep a mistress so long as you fulfill your bargain with me? It’s only sex, after all.”

A brief silence fell. “You’re very understanding. Most women wouldn’t be.”

She shrugged and gazed down at the sheets. “I am nothing if not practical.” A terrible exhaustion settled over her of a sudden. “I really am tired, Your Highness. Perhaps we could resume this tomorrow?”

She plucked distractedly at the sheets, waiting for him to leave.

Instead he came forward and sat on the bed next to her. Reaching out, he gathered her long braid into his hands and slid off the bow. Laying the ribbon aside, he began freeing her hair, the skeins falling loose in a fiery mantle.

“Jane Sudcliffe means nothing to me,” he told her softly.

“So she’s
Jane
, is she? I suppose the two of you had a cozy chat over supper tonight.”

They’d certainly looked cozy. She’d been unable to keep herself from watching them surreptitiously from where she and her partner had sat across the room.

“We talked. Well, actually she did. She’s the sort who likes to hear the sound of her own voice. Sadly, much of what she says is nonsense. She has a great deal to say on the subject of clothes.”

“Oh. I’d heard rumors that she has quite a clever tongue. Or is that only in bed?”

He laughed. “Leave it to you to be aware of something like that.”

Angry again, she tried tugging her hair out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go. Tears stung her eyes. Realizing there was no point in resisting, she dropped her hands into her lap again.

He resumed his unbraiding, sliding his fingers through the heavy mass from scalp to the ends once the tresses were completely free.

She shivered, wishing she didn’t like the way his touch felt.

“She is not my mistress, Ariadne. I have never been, nor do have I any interest in being, intimate with her.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,
oh
.”

“Then why would you not dance with me tonight? Why were you so distant?”

“Because, my foolish girl, I didn’t want to give the game away to everyone in the room. If I start paying special attention to you, there is bound to be speculation, or worse. It seemed prudent to go on as we’ve always done. You might recall that I’ve never been much in the habit of dancing with you, let alone taking you in to supper.”

When he put it that way, she had to admit that he was right. In the past, they never had spent much time together at balls and entertainments. Were they suddenly to be seen spending far more time together than usual, the rumor mill would begin churning as if its blades were caught in a windstorm. People were always looking for secret trysts and budding scandals. He was wise not to want to give the gossip mavens extra fodder.

“I thought,” he mused as he combed his fingers through her loose mass of hair, “that escorting a notorious widow like Jane Sudcliffe in to supper might throw people off the scent. Apparently it worked rather better than I might have wished, since it deceived you as well.”

“So you want Society to think she is your mistress?”

He shrugged. “Or someone like her. It will keep them busy guessing, and I had rather their speculation not be about you.”

She took a moment to consider his words. “Is that what I am now, then? Your mistress?”

“That’s an interesting question.” His thumb glided softly across her lower lip. “I’m not sure what I ought to call you.”

She trembled, tendrils of pleasure stealing through her.

“I suppose we’d do well to stick with lover, since it serves better than anything else at present.”

He cradled her cheek with his wide palm and bent to kiss her temple.

“So, do you?” she ventured at length.

“Do I what?” He brushed his lips over her throat.

“Have a mistress? A real one?”

Do I really want to know that?
And if he does, will it matter?
Suddenly, she very much feared that it might.

Pausing, he leaned away so he could look into her eyes. “I ought to be flattered that you think me capable of servicing more than one woman at a time, particularly given the logistics of visiting another house across Town, managing to maintain my usual schedule, and still finding time to eat and sleep in between.”

Looking at him, feeling his heat and his strength, seeing his magnificent body, she knew he was more than capable. She steeled herself, waiting for his answer.

“But even if I could manage it, I wouldn’t want to,” he told her with grave sincerity. “You are all the woman I want right now. All the woman I need. There is no one but you, Ariadne.”

She exhaled a pent-up breath that she hadn’t even known she’d been holding, more relieved and, yes, happier, than she had any business being.

“Actually,” he continued, his fingers moving to the buttons on her thin lawn nightgown, “I can tell that you’re going to be a real handful. I’m certain you’ll be monopolizing all of my time with our lessons.”

Peeling the material from her shoulders, he cupped one of her breasts in his hand. “But enough talk. Let’s continue what we started this afternoon.”

She laughed and looped her arms around his neck. “Yes, let’s.”

Then his mouth was on hers, her fingers burrowing into his hair to caress him as she’d longed to do earlier that day. He kissed her slowly at first, with a leisurely thoroughness that set her whole body aflame. Eager to test out her nascent skills, she slid her tongue into his mouth and traced the silky contours she discovered there. He growled his approval and kissed her harder, his next kiss more ardent than the one before. She lost herself to the pleasure, her thoughts turning hot and hazy.

She slid her hand along the back of his neck, tracing the warm skin and tensile strength that she discovered there before moving on to the corded muscles on his shoulders and back.

He quaked beneath her untutored hands, his own hands busy fondling her breasts, which grew heavy and aching with need. Her nipples budded into taut points that seemed even more sensitive than the first time he’d touched them, as if they now knew what to expect and wanted more.

She cried out when he bent to take her in his mouth, her fingers sliding over the smooth skin on his back, seeking purchase. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the rush of sensations, basking in the sweet suction of his lips and tongue as they moved over her.