The Trouble With Princesses (23 page)

Angling her head back, she reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead. She hid a wince at the bruise she saw darkening his cheekbone and another along his jaw.

He met her gaze, his own eyes intensely blue. “I keep thinking about the past two days, about you being forced to be alone with him. I know I asked before, but did he hurt you, Arie?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, suddenly understanding his meaning. Before she could reassure him, he continued on.

“Because whatever he may have done, you can tell me,” he said. “No matter what it is, none of it is your fault. You are blameless in this. Absolutely without fault. If anyone is at fault, it is I. I should have been there. I should have found you sooner.”

She made a dismissive noise. “Stop that. We’ve been over this already; you are not at fault. The only one who deserves blame is Selkirk, who at the moment is reaping some of his just deserts.”

With careful fingers, she stroked his cheek. “But as to your question, he didn’t touch me, not the way you mean. He made some threats in that regard, talking about consummating what he assumed would be our upcoming marriage, but he remained a gentleman for all that. Last night at the inn, he slept on the bedroom floor. He never came near me.”

His arm muscles flexed. “You shared a room?” he said in a dangerous tone.

“Yes. He didn’t want me escaping. And with good reason, as it happened, since I did try to escape. This afternoon was my second attempt, which failed as spectacularly as the first.”

“I saw what you did to him with that fork.” His mouth curved upward in a clearly satisfied smile. “Good for you.”

“He was surprised, wasn’t he?”

Rupert chuckled and met her gaze again. “Remind me never to get on your bad side if there’s cutlery around.”

“Duly noted. No arguments at the dinner table.”

He barked out a quick laugh, then sobered again just as quickly. “It’s good to have you back, Ariadne. I was . . . worried.”

“I was worried too. Thank you for coming after me.”

“Did you think I would not?”

“No.” She laid her hand against his cheek. “I knew you would find me, but an expression of gratitude seems appropriate all the same.”

Bending his head, he touched his mouth to hers. She closed her eyes and lost herself to their kiss.

Only then did she admit to herself how frightened she’d been during her ordeal.

Only then did she know how right it felt to be in his arms once again.

Burrowing closer, she encouraged him to deepen their embrace, parting her lips so she could taste his silken heat, explore his dark, heady flavor.

On a groan, he buried his face against her neck, kissing one of her most sensitive spots along her nape.

She trembled.

“We never did get to that rendezvous, did we?” he murmured, running his hand along her spine. Down, down he went until he splayed his fingers over the curve of her bottom. He gave her a little squeeze there, her flesh pliable beneath his touch, and pulled her closer still.

“We’re alone now,” she urged with an ardent sigh.

“So we are. But”—he claimed her mouth again, feasting on her with a relish that fired her blood—“we need to behave. For the time being at least.”

“Maybe I don’t want to behave.” She threaded her fingers into his hair. “Maybe I just want to forget.”

And she did, longing to put the past two days out of her mind, to pretend that nothing had happened between those last tantalizing moments at the ball when they’d agreed to meet in secret and this moment here in the confines of his coach.

But Rupert was nothing if not strong willed, taking her mouth again for another slow, sizzling kiss before easing away.

“This isn’t the place,” he told her, settling her comfortably, but less intimately, against his side. “Not this time at least. We’ll be stopping for the night soon. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve an easy journey.”

“Oh?” she said, her disappointment at their interrupted lovemaking lessening a bit at that news.

“We’re too far from London to drive on tonight anyway.” He folded her hand inside his. “Rest again for the last few miles.”

Rest? How she possibly rest after the kisses they’d just shared?

But she could be patient if she must.

Leaning her head on his shoulder again, she listened to the quiet rhythm of the traveling coach. She wasn’t exactly aware when her eyelids grew heavy, but suddenly she couldn’t hold them open.

With a comfortable sigh, she snuggled closer and knew no more.

•   •   •

More than an hour later, Rupert added a last sentence to his note, then signed his name with a few quick scratches of his pen. Folding the paper, he dripped wax on the missive and sealed it.

“Take this to London without delay,” he instructed the waiting messenger.

The man nodded his acknowledgment and hurried from the room.

Rupert leaned back in the chair at his makeshift desk—which in this case was a small table in the second-best bedchamber in the inn. Ordinarily he would have found the accommodations less than satisfactory, but for one night it would have to do. At least the place was clean and quiet and boasted what he’d been informed was “good, hearty English fare made by the finest cook in the county.”

He would pass judgment on that last assertion as the evening wore on. Right now, he was merely thankful to have Ariadne safely under his protection again, the two of them assured a bed to sleep in and shelter from the rain that had begun to drizzle softly outside.

While Ariadne enjoyed a much-appreciated hot bath in the inn’s best room, he’d decided to write to Emma and Dominic to put their minds at ease about Ariadne’s welfare.

When he’d departed from the ball the other night to go after her, he’d taken only enough time to inform his brother-in-law that Ariadne had been abducted and that, according to Hodges, she was being taken north to Gretna Green. Dominic had offered to accompany him, but Rupert had assured him he could handle the situation on his own, reminding him that Emma would be beside herself with worry if they both took to the road.

He’d paid little attention at the time, but as he thought back now, he recalled the particularly shrewd look Dominic had given him. Did Dominic realize there was more to Rupert and Ariadne’s relationship than simple friendship? But Dominic said nothing further, agreeing to stay and deal with Selkirk’s accomplice, Hodges, as well as fend off the rumors that were certain to start concerning Ariadne’s sudden disappearance.

For all the good that would likely do.

But such things were of no moment now. She was unharmed and back where she belonged.

A servant tapped, bringing in hot water and towels. He had the man set down the items, then leave, preferring to see to his own needs for the time being rather than endure the clumsy attempts of an untrained valet.

Before leaving London, he’d stopped at the town house only long enough to have a proper traveling coach made ready, secure a loaded weapon, and get money out of his safe. Much as he’d been loath to delay by even so much as a minute, he’d known it wouldn’t be wise to race after Ariadne without a plan or any means of defense in place.

While he’d quickly traded his evening clothes for something more sensible to wear on the road, his valet had put another change of clothes and a few grooming items into a valise. Rupert had also ordered a dress, shoes, and some basic essentials packed for Ariadne, assuming rightly, as it happened, that she would be in want of them by the time he caught up with her somewhere on the road to Gretna Green.

He smiled now to recall her cry of delight when he’d knocked on her door here at the inn and presented her with the small satchel of her things. Laughing, she’d flung her arms around him and given him a rousing kiss in spite of the interested gaze of the maid who’d been busy preparing her bath.

“If you weren’t a prince already, I would tell you that you truly are a prince among men, Your Royal Highness,” she’d chimed happily.

Setting the case on her bed, she’d rooted through the contents. “A dress, stockings, shoes.
Huzzah
, I can get rid of these horrid slippers now. And look, there’s soap and tooth powder and a hairbrush. Oh, and a nightgown too! How can I ever thank you? This is better than my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one.”

In that moment, his chest had filled with an odd warmth as he’d stood enchanted, studying her luminous green eyes and rosy-skinned smile with a new appreciation. It was a curious sensation, and one on which he hadn’t been certain he should dwell.

He turned away now, as he’d turned away then, putting such thoughts out of his mind to focus on other matters. After stripping off his shirt and tossing it on the bed, he opened his traveling valise and withdrew razor, strop, and shaving soap. He carried them to the stand, poured water into the basin, and began his ablutions in preparation for the dinner he and Ariadne planned to share this evening.

Chapter Twenty

“M
ore wine?” Rupert asked nearly three hours later, the decanter held expectantly aloft above her glass.

Ariadne tipped her head to one side, then smiled. “Maybe the tiniest little bit. Just a splash to brighten up the glass.”

His mouth curved with amusement as he poured, stopping at the halfway point before moving on to replenish the contents of his own glass. Quietly, he set the decanter aside.

The Bordeaux—which was surprisingly palatable considering the circumstances—gleamed as lushly red as fully ripened cherries. Yet the color couldn’t begin to compete with the exquisite flush that glowed on Ariadne’s skin or the sultry hue of her lips that were full and begging for his kiss.

He’d barely been able to eat his dinner for watching them, her spoon or fork moving in and out, her tongue darting every once in a while to lick away a stray drop of water or wine.

As for the wine, he’d fed that to her with conscious intent, well aware of her low tolerance for alcohol. But he’d been careful to stop short of inebriation. He didn’t want her drunk; he just wanted her relaxed and at her ease.

She’d been through an ordeal these past couple of days, even if she did her best to pretend it had had little effect on her. But he’d watched her tonight, and knew her well enough to realize that she was far more shaken than she wanted to let on.

And so he’d plied her with wine and food and pleasant conversation, determined that she should forget her difficulties for a few hours.

When she climbed between the sheets tonight, he wanted her to drift off without a care, and for her dreams to be easy ones without worry or fear.

He owed her that much for failing to protect her as he should have done. He owed her a great deal more for the trust she continued to place in his hands.

What if he hadn’t caught up to her in time?

What if Selkirk had been a far less honorable man and had violated her in the cruelest of ways?

His fingers tightened around his wineglass, his bruised knuckles aching at the pressure.

At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that Selkirk would never come near her again; the beating he’d administered, as well as the warning, ought to assure that.

But Ariadne was still far too tempting a target for many men—and a vulnerable one, despite what she might otherwise believe. And now with her reputation damaged—as it most assuredly would be once they reached the city—she would be prey for even more unscrupulous sorts. Men who would seek to use and take advantage of her. Men who would try to seduce her for their own ends, then cast her aside with heartless disregard and potential humiliation, just as he’d warned her they might when the two of them had first begun their liaison.

Then too there were other fortune hunters who might make a play for her money. She believed her inheritance would give her freedom in the future, and in some regards she was right. But without the security of blood family, she presented a far more tempting target than other young women of means.

And as the past couple of days had so aptly demonstrated, her royal lineage was far from a deterrent to men who were already used to taking foolish risks. In fact, to many, her title was even more of a lure, an opportunity to align with royalty. The fact that her nation no longer existed would make no difference to them whatsoever.

So how to keep her safe?

Marriage was the simplest answer, of course.

But marriage to whom?

Eligible royals hadn’t exactly been lining up before her abduction. Once this incident became known, there would be no possibility of an offer from such quarters, even if Ariadne could be convinced to accept one of them.

Such a stubborn girl she was.

A lesser noble might be convinced to wed her because of her lineage, even if she was considered damaged goods. An Italian—they weren’t too fussy. Or an Englishman—several noble houses might consider such an alliance more than a fair trade.

Then there was the fact that she was very beautiful. Many men would take her for that single attribute alone. The chance to have her in their bed. The opportunity to possess her completely, to claim all her sweet, hot passion and make it their own.

Ariadne might not notice the lustful male eyes that followed her wherever she went, but he did. She might be blind to the flirtatious overtures and hopeful looks that came her way, but he saw.

He knew and understood exactly what other men craved, because he craved it himself. But unlike them, he enjoyed her favors. She’d already let him into her bed.

And by God, he didn’t want to give that up, to give her up.

Because she’s mine.

Rupert’s hand tightened dangerously on his wineglass, sudden fury burning like acid in his gut. The idea of another man, any man, touching her made him half-crazed.

He thought again of Selkirk and the fact that he’d had her alone, had shared a bedroom with her. Ariadne said nothing had happened between them, but the idea enraged him all the same.

As for her taking a husband—he would want to kill the happy bastard before the priest had even finished reciting the vows.