The Trouble With Princesses (4 page)

“No, we are not,” she said. “And his name is Mr. Knightbridge. I met with him this evening so I could find out if we are compatible.”

“Compatible how?”

“I wanted to know if he has any talent at kissing.”

He glowered. “And does he?”

She linked her fingers in front of her again. “He’s reasonably skilled. Much better than the others.”

“
Others?
What others? Just how many would-be lovers have you wandered off into secluded corners with lately?”

“Three or four,” she said with a casual shrug, as if such behavior were a commonplace thing. “I had to have some means of comparison, after all, since I am conducting kissing trials.”

Rupert stopped dead. He had assumed she couldn’t surprise him any further, but apparently Ariadne had more alarming details up her sleeve than even he could have predicted.

Kissing trials? Good God.

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Did it never occur to you that word might get out? That one of your gentlemen . . . friends . . . for want of a better term, might mention your new penchant for secret assignations?”

“Well, I cannot see why. None of them has reason to expose our tryst, and it isn’t as if I’ve revealed my intentions to them. As far as each man is aware, he is the only one I’ve let kiss me and our little rendezvous is nothing but a harmless flirtation.”

“Believe me,” he said on a low growl, “there is nothing harmless about you, Princess. And though you may have no care for your reputation, you ought to have a care for your safety. You’re playing a dangerous game, Ariadne. A very dangerous game, one that may well get you hurt.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. They’ve all been lambs,” she said with complete unconcern. “I am perfectly safe.”

He moved closer. “And what if you aren’t? What if you choose a wolf next time and he isn’t as pliable and obedient as the others?”

“I have everything well in hand. All the men in my circle are gentlemen.”

“Even among gentlemen, predators exist. As far as I can see, you’ve been lucky up till now. Take heed and put an end to this ridiculous pursuit of yours.”

“It is not ridiculous and I shall not stop. I crave passion and adventure, and that is what I am going to have whether you approve or not.”

He took another step closer, narrowing the space between them so that she was only a few inches away. “So you like living life as if you were balanced on a cliff’s edge, do you? Perhaps you need someone to show you just how risky such choices can really be.”

She set her hands at her hips. “Oh, and I suppose you’re the one to do it? Preparing to read me another lecture, are you, Your Highness?”

“No,” he said with soft menace. “No lectures. I think in your case a more direct form of instruction seems appropriate.”

Reaching out, he caught hold of her wrists and pulled her arms behind her back, imprisoning her against him. “Prepare to be taught a lesson, Your Highness.”

•   •   •

Ariadne stiffened beneath his touch. Clearly Rupert had taken leave of his senses. What did he think he was doing, manhandling her like this when she had never so much as given him permission to touch her hand?

“What do you think you’re about? Release me,” she demanded.

“Not until you’ve been made to understand a few important points at least.”

“And exactly what points might those be?”

His face was stern, his dark blue eyes nearly black in the low light. “First, that it was a simple matter for me to take hold of you like this, and second, that it will be an easy matter to keep you here. I am far stronger than you, Ariadne, so there’s no use struggling. You’re not going anywhere until I allow you to.”

Is that right?
she thought, as a hot burst of fury spread through her veins. Determined to prove him wrong, she bucked and struggled, fighting to be free. But rather than loosening his hold, he only reinforced it by shifting her captured wrists to one hand and walking her backward until she was pressed against the wall.

“Now you’re even more under my control,” he murmured in a voice that flowed over her like warmed brandy. “You have no choice but to surrender.”

In answer, she brought her foot down hard on his, her goal being to cause him pain—enough that he would instinctively release her. But her thin silk evening slippers were no match for his fine leather shoes and glanced off with barely any impact.

Drawing her foot back next, she tried to kick him. But he stepped aside at the last second, having clearly guessed her intent.

“Ah, ah,” he cautioned. “None of that now. I ought to have known how feisty you would be. I see I shall have to resort to further tactics to subdue your resistance.”

Pressing his body fully against hers, he leaned in so that she became aware of every inch of his long, muscled strength. He increased their intimacy by moving his legs so they were on either side of hers. Slowly, he edged them inward until they enclosed her own, leaving her neatly trapped between.

Yet even trussed as tight as a Christmas goose, she wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Jaw clenched, she struggled anew.

And couldn’t budge him an inch.

“Only imagine if this wasn’t me but some other man,” he said. “A man who cares only for his own pleasure and none for yours. Someone who would ruin you and think nothing of the consequences afterward. Is that what you want, Ariadne? You need to put aside this ridiculous fantasy you’ve spun and realize that you can’t simply take a lover.”

“But I can. That is why I am being careful in my selection. That is why I am conducting a few tests first, to make certain of the character of the man I invite into my life.”

“Ah yes, the kissing trials. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about those. That’s one of my other points in this perilous game you’re playing.”

“I have everything under control.”

“Really?” He lifted his free hand and cupped the side of her face. “Like you do at the moment?”

“This”—she shifted against him again, unable to move, much to her frustration—“isn’t something that will happen. You’re just being nasty.”

“Is that what I’m being? What if one of your trial subjects decides to be nasty too? What if you meet him for an assignation and he doesn’t want to end your embrace? The pretty boy didn’t look too pleased to be interrupted. What if I hadn’t come in when I did?”

“Knightbridge would have stopped.”

But even as she said the words, she wasn’t entirely sure. Rupert was right. Knightbridge hadn’t been ready to take no for an answer. But she would have managed him, just as she’d managed the others. Rupert was just trying to scare her and she wasn’t going to let him.

“Fine. You’ve had your say,” she told him. “Now let’s have done with this charade.”

“Not quite yet. There is one more point on which I believe you require some additional education.”

And before she had time to consider what he meant, he angled his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

•   •   •

Ariadne gasped silently and held very still—not that she had much choice, given Rupert’s grip on her. But maybe if she did not react to his kiss, he would grow tired of this game he was playing and let her go.

Yet even as she tried to go limp and feel nothing, she couldn’t help but notice the tendrils of pleasure that began creeping to life inside her body as his lips moved over hers. Her pulse throbbed in her veins, beating a crazy tattoo that made no sense. At the same time, the air grew thin in her lungs in a way she’d never experienced before, making her strangely desperate to catch her next breath.

More alarming still was the fact that she wasn’t repulsed by the bold, nearly overbearing intrusion of his hold upon her—rather the opposite, if she were being truthful with herself.

In the past, she had barely touched Rupert—maybe once or twice when he’d offered his hand or arm to help her from a carriage. Yet here she now stood literally surrounded by him, his long, hard length pressed against her from breast to calf with a stunning intimacy that would have caused a lesser woman to swoon. His arms seemed as strong as tree limbs as they held her, his hand twined around her wrists like an unbreakable vine. Against her cheek and temple, his fingers played to clever purpose, stroking her face so that it felt as if her skin was stretched too tight, hot as if it might turn to flame.

“Open your mouth,” he whispered against her lips without breaking their kiss. “Let me in.”

She shouldn’t. She knew it was a mistake and yet something inside her urged her to comply.

From the instant he’d touched her, it was as though she’d lost all control, possessed by needs and longings she hadn’t known she could feel and couldn’t seem to resist. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. His touch turned the memory of those other experiences to ash.

Dizzy with sensation, she did as he asked, parted her lips as he demanded. His tongue swept inside and she was lost.

Giving herself over to the pleasure, she breathed him in, his clean, masculine scent a dark, delicious spice in her nose.

And his taste.

God, his taste was divine, like an intoxicating liquor that went straight to her head and left her wanting more.

She shivered as he drew her deeper. Down, down, until she couldn’t remember why she shouldn’t be doing this with him, and why she hadn’t done it sooner.

Dully, with some last spark of functioning brainpower, she realized she was free, that he’d let go of her hands so they were no longer confined at her back.

She could push him away.

She could stop this insanity, for that is exactly what it was. Insane, brilliant pleasure the likes of which she had never conceived.

Still, he’d forced this on her, literally trapped her by means of his superior masculine strength.

She ought to turn the tables and put an end to his manhandling.

She ought to teach him a lesson.

But even as she reached up to do that very thing, her hands instead slid caressingly over the fine, soft wool of his coat, then up into the thick bright gold of his hair.

He shuddered at her touch and kissed her harder, demanding more of her than she truly knew how to give.

But she could try.

Resolved to do exactly that, she arched deeper into his embrace, savoring the heat of him, the power, the bliss.

Somewhere in the distance, a clock began to chime, each stroke ringing in the hour.

Ten.

Eleven.

Midnight.

Then came a giggle—a girlish giggle—accompanied by the deeper laugh of a man. And pattering footsteps.

Where were they? Running past outside in the hall? Or were they coming inside?

Rupert obviously heard as well, since he broke their kiss and glanced toward the door, which they had quite foolishly left standing wide open. Turning, he concealed her body, keeping her in the deepest shadows while he surveyed the room.

But no one entered.

They were safe.

They were alone.

After several more long moments, he turned back.

Their gazes met, his eyes blazing with an intense light, and his hair was tousled out of its usual neat arrangement.

I did that,
she thought with a kind of wonder, her fingers tingling along with a great many other body parts.

Then reality set in. Suddenly aghast, she knew she had to leave.

She pushed at him this time, using the flat of her hands against his chest.

And he let her, stepping back to give her room, to allow her an escape.

Then, for the first time in her life, she ran away.

Chapter Four

A
riadne smothered a yawn as she helped herself to eggs and toast from the buffet the following morning. Crossing to the breakfast table in the Lyndhurst House morning room, she sank into a chair to the left of Emma.

To her immense relief, Rupert hadn’t joined them. But then he rarely did, preferring to rise early and take breakfast in his rooms before departing for a morning ride.

As for Nick, he’d eaten and been on his way out of the morning room when she had been coming in. They’d exchanged a friendly greeting in passing.

Emma had still been eating her meal, so she had remained, offering a few remarks about how much she’d enjoyed last night’s ball.

If only I could say the same
.

She scowled and held her hand over her mouth again to conceal another yawn. She was horribly tired, having barely slept last night. But then how could she have been expected to sleep, considering what had happened between her and Rupert? Even now the interlude didn’t quite seem real.

Had Rupert actually kissed her?

Worse, had she actually liked it?

To block out the answer that whispered back in silent mockery, she bit unthinkingly into a slice of toast. Immediately she wished she hadn’t, the bite sticking in her throat like a cruel scold.

She coughed and reached for her tea, sipping it gratefully until she was able to swallow normally again.

Emma gave her a questioning look. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No? Why would it be?”

She eyed her friend under her lashes. What did Emma know? Surely Rupert hadn’t told her what had happened between them and about the kisses they had shared.

Kisses that were better by far than any she had known before.

But to him they had been nothing more than a lesson, a punishment. Only imagine if he kissed her with something of a more pleasurable nature in mind?

Her heart thumped hard and she reached again for her tea.

Emma glanced toward Ariadne’s plate. “It is just that you seem frazzled this morning. Usually you take butter and jam on your toast.”

Looking down, Ariadne realized Emma was right. She had forgotten to dress her toast.

“Just a little tired,” she said, and she reached for the butter.

“Well, it was a late night.”

“Indeed.”

She could have said more. Emma was one of her two best friends in all the world, and generally she confided everything to her.

Or nearly everything.

She’d kept her kissing trials to herself. Emma disapproved of the whole project, so she had thought it wise not to share in this instance. But what about Rupert? She could only imagine how that conversation might go.