The Trouble With Princesses (21 page)

“Only that you have mistaken the situation. You see, I do not care overmuch about protecting my reputation. If you knew me better, you would have realized my views on the subject. Truth be known, I would much rather the world brand me a scarlet woman than be forced to tie myself for a lifetime to an unscrupulous rogue like you. There is not going to be a marriage.”

He stared at her, his expression turning hard. “Ah, but there is. Believe me, Your Highness, you
will
marry me.”

She gave a wry laugh and crossed her arms. “I will not. So you might as well take me back right now. The trip north would be an absolute waste of time for us both.”

He contemplated her statement in silence and drank more wine. “I don’t think so. You see, you are the one who is in error now. You seem to be under the impression that your consent is required for our union. I assure you it is not.”

“Don’t be absurd,” she retorted with a huff. “I am a royal princess and if I choose not to align myself with you, I cannot be forced to do so.”

“Were we remaining in England, that would indeed be true. But once we reach Scotland and Gretna Green, all I need do is find a willing minister and a pair of witnesses.”

“All of whom I shall inform of my refusal to be your wife.”

“Indeed, you may try,” he told her with an unsettlingly smug assurance. “However, I have to warn you that once I inform the minister that I have been bedding you with great frequency over the course of our journey, he’ll be only too happy to see us wed. After all, a child might be involved and as its father, I will wish to atone for such sinful behavior and make provision against its illegitimacy.”

She curled her fingers around the dinner knife next to her plate. “So you are planning to add my violation to your list of crimes? I have to tell you now that I will never submit to you, not voluntarily and not without a fight.”

He grimaced and held up a hand. “Here now, there’s no need to be insulting. Most women enjoy coming to my bed.”

“Not I.”

And to think that at one time she’d toyed with the idea of taking this man as her lover. But now that she’d been with Rupert, she wanted no one else. Certainly not this blackhearted jackanapes who made such dreadful threats.

And Rupert? Where was he and why had he not arrived for their rendezvous in time to prevent her from being kidnapped? Surely nothing untoward had befallen him?

No,
she assured herself.
He is well and will come for me.

Until then, it was up to her to defend herself as best she could.

“Don’t come near me.” She clutched the knife harder.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you be so dramatic. I’ve never forced my attentions on a woman and I don’t plan to start now.”

“But you said—”

“I said I would
tell
the minister that I’d deflowered you, not that I actually would. Although if you push me hard enough I might change my mind. For the time being, however, your virtue is safe. Once we’re married, we can discuss the situation again.”

“He won’t believe you, the minister. I’ll convince him you’re lying in order to steal my fortune.”

He sent her a look of cynical amusement. “You can try, but in the end it won’t serve. If enough money exchanges hands at the time of the ceremony—and I’ll make sure it does—the vicar won’t care if I have to put that gag back in your mouth and drag you to the altar by your hair.”

Blood drained out of her cheeks at hearing the utter sincerity of his words. If he managed to get her to Gretna Green, he would do whatever it took to achieve his aims. But they were still a long way from Scotland. She would think of some way out before then.

She hoped.

Chapter Eighteen

T
he next day, Ariadne gazed dully out the coach window, doing her best to ignore Selkirk. Seated opposite, he looked as if he were sleeping—his hands linked atop his stomach, his legs stretched out as far as the vehicle would allow.

But she didn’t trust him. He was like a cat, apparently asleep one second, fully alert the next. She had good reason to know, since she had tried to escape last night and failed.

After dinner, he’d escorted her upstairs to a bedchamber that she’d been appalled to learn they would be sharing. But he’d kept his word about leaving her untouched, making a pallet for himself on the floor with the extra blankets and pillow he’d requested from the maid.

She’d refused to undress, lying underneath the coverlet on the bed, willing herself not to give in to her need for rest. She waited nearly two hours, listening until she heard the deep, even rhythm of his breathing, accompanied by an occasional light snore.

Careful to make no sound, she crept from the bed to the door and silently turned the lock. She’d eased the door open barely an inch when with no warning at all, it was slammed shut.

And there stood Selkirk.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he admonished. “You’re a naughty girl, Your Highness, trying to escape, though where you thought you’d go, I have no idea.”

Actually, she’d thought she would take a horse from the stables and ride as far and fast as she could manage. After all, if her friend Mercedes had been able to successfully elude a band of murderers a few years ago, then surely she herself could get away from a blackguard like Selkirk.

But to her great disgust, her plan had failed dismally.

“Back to bed, Your Highness, and get some sleep,” he ordered. “We leave at first light.”

Defeated, she’d trudged back to the bed and lay down again. To her further irritation, she’d had to watch as he moved his makeshift bed in front of the door, barring any further escape attempts, for that night at least.

So here she was, trapped with him in the coach again.

If she thought she could get away now, she would open the door and fling herself out. But the vehicle was traveling much too fast, and she knew the most she would do was cause herself a grave injury and be back in his clutches, even more effectively caged than before.

At least she had a fresh weapon—a fork she’d secreted in her napkin over the hasty breakfast she’d eaten. What she planned to do with it, she had no idea, but having it in her pocket made her feel better nonetheless.

As the day continued, the tedium wore on her nearly as much as her captivity. She tried to sleep, but the effort made her even more resentful, since every time she dozed off, the coach would hit a rut and jostle her awake.

In the past when she’d traveled, she had done so as befitted a princess, riding in an elegant equipage that glided over the highway with nary a bump. The interior had always been comfortably appointed, so much so that it had seemed almost like traveling atop a grandly padded chaise.

Selkirk’s choice of conveyance left much to be desired, although she supposed most people would find little fault. At present though she was in no humor to be generous, finding fault with everything he said or did.

Narrowing her eyes, she sent him a black stare where he slept on in his own corner. She crossed her arms and added
poorly sprung coach
to the ever-increasing list of his crimes.

Still, she refused to complain. First, because it was beneath her dignity. Second, because she knew it would do her no good whatsoever.

As the minutes wore on, though, her stomach began to ache with a gnawing hunger that increased her discomfort tenfold. She was on the verge of breaking her resolve and protesting his insensitive treatment, when he finally roused from his slumber and rapped on the roof, ordering the driver to stop at the next inn.

She nearly wept with relief when he helped her out of the coach, her legs and back stiff from having been bent inside the vehicle for so long.

She let none of her emotions show, however, concentrating on maintaining an expression of calm disdain, even boredom. Inwardly, she might be exhausted, hungry, aching, angry, and even a little scared, but she would never reveal such weaknesses to a man of his stamp.

He tried to make polite conversation after they repaired to a private parlor, but soon ceased his efforts when she refused to reply. With a smirk of wry amusement on his face, he ordered a meal for the two of them, then leaned back in his chair, apparently content to sip a glass of wine and gaze out the window at the inn yard below.

Without meaning to, she found herself doing the same, watching the hostlers scurry to and fro, tending to the horses and coaches that disgorged the arriving passengers, then the departing ones as they packed back up and were driven away. The yard stayed busy as a beehive, people and animals and vehicles performing a bustling dance that never seemed to slow.

Once the food arrived, however, Ariadne forgot all about the rush of humanity below, concentrating instead on the helping of chicken pie and buttered peas that had been set before her.

The fare was far from what she usually ate, but it was surprisingly good, and her spirits lifted fractionally with each bite.

When the serving maid returned to clear away their empty plates, Selkirk downed the last of his wine, refusing her offer of dessert.

“No time, I’m afraid,” he told the girl. “We need to be back on the road again.”

“Surely we can take a few minutes more,” Ariadne said. Anything but returning to that dreadful coach and the trip that brought her ever closer to a destination she had no desire to reach.

“Some cheese and fruit perhaps,” she told the servant. “His lordship may not wish to have a sweet, but I cannot say the same.”

Selkirk arched a dark brow. “Have something boxed for the lady. She can eat her dessert once we resume our journey.”

After casting a glance between the two of them, the girl bobbed a curtsy, then scurried off to do as Selkirk had ordered.

Ariadne turned to him once the serving maid had gone. “Might I at least have a few minutes’ privacy so that I may avail myself of the necessary?”

He studied her briefly, then nodded. “Of course, Your Highness. We have more long miles ahead of us today. I wish only for your comfort.”

Hah! He’s missed the mark on that one,
she mused sourly. Then again, what could she expect of a man who would kidnap a woman so he could marry her and steal her inheritance?

As she made to leave, shouts and a great flood of voices sounded from the inn yard below. A glance showed that the mail coach had arrived, a knot of passengers disembarking from the heavily laden vehicle.

She still remembered Mercedes’s tales of her brief adventures traveling by public conveyance. Apparently, the coach would stop long enough to deliver and collect the mail, unload baggage of those disembarking, and load any new passengers and their belongings. During the stop, travelers had only a few minutes to stretch their legs and eat a quick bite of food. The coaches stuck to a very strict timetable, arriving and departing without concern should anyone go astray.

She tapped a finger against her lips, her mind spinning with sudden possibilities.

Without another word, she made her way to the door and out into the hallway leading to the stairs.

Selkirk followed.

In the main entry, she turned to seek out the ladies’ facilities. Selkirk continued walking behind her.

She stopped and rounded on him. “Your pardon, my lord, but where do you think you are going?”

“I shall accompany you.”

She glowered, wondering how to rid herself of him for a few necessary minutes. “I think not. You may be forcing me to travel with you, but that does not give you leave to invade every aspect of my personal privacy. I shall rejoin you shortly.”

“I prefer to keep you within my sights.”

“And I prefer not to be spied upon.” She crossed her arms. “Where would I go anyway? I have no coin and no means of transportation. You would notice that I was missing before I managed to get five feet away.”

Lines creased his forehead as he considered what she’d said. “Very well, but one of the maids can accompany you. After that, you have ten minutes. Do not even think about trying to deceive me or I shall make you very sorry indeed.”

“Of course,” she agreed, deciding she wouldn’t think about the sorts of retribution he might have in mind should she fail.

She did her best to look accepting, as if fully resigned to her present captive situation. But her mind was racing, weighing the risks and advantages of a dozen different scenarios.

The maid, of course, was a complication, but she would think of something. She had to, since she feared this might be her last and only chance to escape. They would reach Scotland in another day; she couldn’t afford to wait for a better opportunity—assuming there would even be one.

The servant arrived, the girl listening obligingly as Selkirk issued his instructions.

“Ten minutes,” he repeated before letting her continue on her way.

“The ladies’ is just down here,” the girl informed her, chatting pleasantly as they threaded their way through the patrons that crowded into the taproom and toward the back of the building.

A small room had been set aside for guests of quality who did not wish to use the common conveniences outside. Ariadne shut herself inside, wondering how much time remained before the coachman blew the horn to signal the departure of the mail coach. She couldn’t afford to time matters incorrectly. If she went too soon, Selkirk would figure out her plan and have her back in his clutches before she could say boo. If she waited too long, the mail coach would depart and her chance of escape along with it.

Then, too, there was still the maid waiting for her just on the other side of the door.

She poured water into a small basin provided for that use and washed her hands, wanting to give at least the illusion that she was taking care of her personal needs. Hands dry again, she unlatched the door.

“All ready, your ladyship?” the girl piped.

Ariadne decided not to correct her error. “Yes, I am.” She took a couple of steps into the hall, then stopped abruptly. “Oh, I just realized.”

“What, ma’am?”

“Heavens, I forgot my fan upstairs in the parlor. Would you be a dear and run and fetch it for me?”