Duchess Diaries [2] How to Pursue a Princess

by Karen Hawkins

  “With your arm injured, you might not be able to control your mount.” He reached out and plucked a piece of grass from her hair.

  She sighed. “I’m mussed.”

  “Da. There’s a smudge of dirt on your nose, too.”

  Instantly, she reached for her nose, but in doing so, she unthinkingly lifted her injured arm. “Ow!” She rubbed her shoulder. “It’s stiff.”

  His smile faded. “Moya, I—”

  “Please, just help me back on my horse. I’m certain I can reach the castle.”

  His jaw set. “I will agree only if you allow me to examine your arm. You needn’t disrobe, you know. I just wish to move it and ascertain the extent of your injuries.”

  She sighed. She didn’t want him to “examine” anything, but the firm line of his jaw told her that she had no choice. She nodded. “Fine.”

  Wulf slipped a hand under her elbow and placed another on her shoulder. “This will only take a moment.” He slowly rotated her arm. As soon as she winced, he stopped. “Where did that hurt?”

  She placed her hand on the spot she’d landed. “It feels like a bruise.”

  “No sharp pain?”

  She shook her head. “It just hurts all over, not any one place in particular.”

  “Hmm.” He finished rotating her arm and then sat back on his haunches. “I think you’re right; it doesn’t seem to be broken. But you can’t ride back to the castle. Your arm is weak and there is little you could do if the horse bolts. So I will lead the horse for you.”

  She glanced around the clearing and realized that her horse was the only one in sight. “You didn’t ride.”

  “My cottage is just on the other side of the river, so I walked.” He stood and held out his hand. “Come. Let’s see if you can move now.”

  She stood but staggered when her heel came down on a rock. Instantly, Wulf slipped an arm about her waist to steady her. His voice was muffled against her hair as he said, “Lean against me.”

  She didn’t need to lean against anyone now that her heel was back on firm ground, but he was conveniently close, and it took so very little to rest there. And why not? she asked herself. We will never be alone again to enjoy such a thing. She closed her eyes, savoring Wulf’s strong arm gently tucked about her waist. For such a large, powerful man, his touch was amazingly gentle.

  She snuggled closer as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, his breath warm on her skin.

  I shouldn’t encourage this, but it just seems so natural. Besides, perhaps this cherished feeling wasn’t because of Wulf. Perhaps there was something innately comforting about the weight of a man’s arm—any man’s arm. I could get used to this.

  She suddenly realized that the silence between her and Wulf had changed. Gone was the peacefulness of the moment, and in its place was a simmer of heat. Her skin prickled as if he were touching her far more intimately than he was, and her mind flickered back to the kiss they’d shared in the library. She’d dreamed of that kiss ever since.

  The breeze strengthened and her skirts slapped playfully against his riding boots and brushed the flowered grass at their feet. The sunshine warmed her shoulder, though it didn’t match the coziness from the one pressed against Wulf’s chest.

  It was so peaceful, so . . . right. But this can’t be right. I can’t let it be right.

  Yet she didn’t move. Instead, she allowed the simmer of attraction grow, as palpable as the sunlight that warmed their shoulders.

  Lily lifted her face to his. His gaze caressed her as he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his fingers warm on her skin. She was locked into place, unable to look away. His dark lashes cast his green eyes into shadow, making her think of the moss at the bottom of a stream. The warmth of his hand on her cheek made her breathless, and her skin tingled with awareness. I should stop this, but I can’t.

  Instead, she yearned to lean forward . . . toward him . . . into him. . . .

  Fourteen

  From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe Though many consider me a great matchmaker, I must admit that there are circumstances even I cannot overcome. Fortunately, thus far I’ve been able to offset those circumstances with those two weapons of good fortune: luck and timing.

  Woe betide the relationship not blessed with either.

  Lily lifted her lips to Wulf’s. The gentle, sweet touch set off a wild, uncontrollable flash of desire that roared through her, sweeping away every thought, every hesitation, every wish to resist either his desires or hers. She wanted this man so badly that her hands shook, and her heart thundered so loudly that she was certain he could hear it.

  As if he could read her wanton thoughts, Wulf deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding over her lips, teasing them apart. She opened to him, welcoming the onslaught of heated passion, pressing herself against him, refusing to let anything come between her and this man.

  Murmuring her name, he slipped a hand behind her head, sinking his fingers into her hair. His touch was demanding and urgent, stirring her passion yet more. His kiss changed and he teased and taunted. As with the kiss in the library, he taught her as she went, and she found herself a desperately eager student, panting and aching.

  Sensing her need, he cupped her face between his hands and kissed her wildly. Lily moaned as he captured her and devoured her as he plundered her mouth with his.

  Suddenly kissing wasn’t enough. She unthinkingly went to slip an arm about his neck, but the pain from her shoulder made her break the kiss with a gasp.

  Instantly Wulf paused. He was flushed, his eyes bright, his breath as quick as hers. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, no. I forgot about my arm and reached for you.” She pressed a hand to her heart where it fluttered against her chest. “I think my heart would fly away if it could escape.”

  He chuckled softly. “It seems all of our kisses are destined to be interrupted. But one day . . .” He rested his forehead to hers. “One day we will kiss until there are no more kisses to be had.”

  What would that be like? she wondered, almost unable to breathe at the thought. Hours and hours of kisses. I think I would go mad. Deliciously and decadently mad.

  She yearned for that madness, especially as her life now seemed so focused on sacrifice and control.

  Wulf slid his hand along the line of her jaw until he cupped the side of her neck, his skin warm against hers. “Ah, Moya, your eyes call to me,” he whispered. “They say the things your lips will not.”

  His thumb brushed her bottom lip and her body instantly tingled.

  She longed for his touch with an intensity she’d never before felt, yet still she hesitated. Nothing good would come from this. Pleasure, yes, but later she would face certain heartache, and the loss of everything her family held dear.

  She couldn’t give in.

  His gaze locked with hers, and reading her expression, he closed his eyes, his hands in fists as he growled to himself under his breath.

  Finally, he opened his eyes again. “Why do you always fight me?”

  “Because I must. My path is set and it doesn’t lead to you.”

  “No?” His thumb brushed the sensitive spot behind her ear, which sent tremors racing through her. “Are you certain? Why shouldn’t it lead to me?”

  “You know why.” She met his gaze steadily, though it cost her. “And yes, I’m certain. Very.”

  He sighed. “What am I to do with you, Moya?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “That is not acceptable.” He tugged her closer, careful of her injured arm as he rested his forehead against hers once more. “Moya, I came as you asked. What did you wish to talk to me about?”

  His green eyes were so close that she could see the golden swirls that made them shimmer, his breath warm as it brushed over her lips. “There are things I—” Her breath caught as he trailed his fingers down her neck to where her cape was tied at her throat. “Wulf, don’t.”

  “I’m listening, Moya. Continue.”

  “I—
I can’t. Not while you’re— Wulf, stop. This isn’t talking.”

  “You want talk?” He cupped her face and bent to nuzzle her neck, sending shivers dancing over her. “I will talk, then, and you will listen. I want to cover you in kisses from head to toe, discovering . . . each . . . secret.” He punctuated each word with a featherlight kiss on her neck.

  She gasped and closed her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered, a deep ache settling between her thighs in the most wanton way. “Tell me more.”

  He slid his hands over her, down her back to her bottom, cupping her through her riding habit. “One day, Moya, we will kiss and there will not be so much clothing between us.”

  “Just silk?” she asked breathlessly.

  He chuckled. “You like silk, do you? I will have sheets made of it. Gowns and night rails. Chemises and petticoats. You will never wear anything but silk.”

  Each word added to the cocoon of growing heat that surrounded her. She gripped his lapel with her good hand and turned her mouth toward his as he captured her lips with his own, his tongue plundering her mouth with deliberate intent.

  Finally, unable to catch her breath, Lily broke the kiss and rested her head against his shoulder, panting wildly. She felt as if she’d been running downhill, reckless and out of control, her knees shaking like jelly. Her entire body was aquiver, her heart thudding hard against her breastbone. But more disturbing was the way she yearned for his touch. One more kiss, her mind tempted. Just one more kiss.

  But, no, she tried to tell herself. His kisses make me want more. So, so much more.

  She pressed a hand to her temple. She’d asked to meet him to warn him about Emma—not to be seduced. It’s so easy to lose myself when I’m near him. He overtakes me so quickly.

  She flattened her hand against his chest, feeling his heart thud hard against her palm. When he bent to kiss her once more, she shook her head. “Wulf, please—no more. This is madness.”

  “But most pleasurable.” He traced the line of her cheek with his fingertips. “Would that I could go so mad every moment of every day. I would kiss you here.” He touched her lips. “And here.” He slid his hand to the base of her throat. “And all the way to here.” Gaze locked with hers, he cupped her breast, his thumb resting lightly on her nipple.

  The heat from his palm soaked through the material. She wanted to lean toward him, to press herself more firmly against his hand, to—

  “No! I—I can’t.” She swung on her heel and left the circle of his arms to stand several feet away, her breathing so rapid that her knees trembled.

  Good God, what was she doing? She had so much to gain—and so much to lose. She pressed a hand to her eyes. I must think about Papa. Where he will be if I don’t—

  “Moya?”

  Wulf was watching her, his head tilted to one side. “It was just a kiss. There is nothing wrong with that.”

  “True, but . . . Blast it, Wulf, I didn’t ask you here for this.”

  “Ah? Why did you ask me here, then?” He untied his cravat, which had been carelessly knotted about his neck.

  She blinked. “What are you doing?”

  “Fixing a sling so that you may ride more easily.” He unwound his cravat and shook it out.

  She couldn’t help but stare at his exposed neck, tanned and muscled, framed by his black coat. He has muscles everywhere. I wonder what he’d look like without clothes. She flushed and looked away.

  He smoothed out the long cloth. “Hold up your arm, Moya. Hold it steady so that we do not hurt it worse while I’m tying the knots.”

  She did as he asked, wincing only once when she lifted it too high. He swiftly fixed the sling, his fingers brushing the back of her neck as he knotted it, sending tremors through her yet again. When he finished, she relaxed her arm into it.

  “Better?”

  She nodded. “Much.”

  “Good. It is not as well done as if you’d sewn one, but it will have to do.” He adjusted it where the muslin bundled at her wrist. “Did you finish all of the socks I saw in your basket?”

  “Yes. And I’ve begun a larger project—a ball gown of pink sarcenet. Mrs. Cairness had the material tucked away and it’s just enough for one gown.”

  “A ball gown? You can sew such a complex thing?”

  She gestured to her habit. “I made this. In fact, I make most of my own gowns.”

  He examined her riding habit, his brows lifting, flattering appreciation in his gaze. “You have great talent, Moya. But then I’m not surprised. If you wish to do something, you will find a way to do it. I know this about you.”

  “Thank you.” She tried to keep from staring at the base of his throat, exposed by the loss of his cravat, his heartbeat visible. A wild, untamed part of her yearned to lift up on her tiptoes and taste that spot of skin. I would only have to—

  “Moya, if you keep looking at me like that . . .”

  Her face heated. “I’m sorry. I was just—” She threw up a hand. “Wulf, I invited you here because I need to speak to you about a serious matter.” She wet her lips, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know how much time we have before I’m discovered missing and the duchess sends someone to find me, so I must say this now. It’s about Miss Gordon.”

  “Ah!” His eyelids were half-closed, so she couldn’t read his expression. “Yes,” he said, his tone almost dulcet. “Emma—Miss Gordon is a very interesting woman.”

  Lily’s heart contracted. Interesting? What does that mean? “You should know that she’s actively looking for a husband.”

  “Actively?”

  “She wishes to marry soon. She’s w—” Lily almost said “wealthy,” but stopped herself just in time. “Miss Gordon is at a juncture in her life when she thinks such an alliance would be valuable.”

  “So she seeks marriage. You know this for a certainty?”

  “Yes, Huntley believes it, too. He’s worried for her, although I’m not. I know you are an honorable man.”

  “But he has his doubts.”

  “I can’t speak for the earl. Wulf, you are not used to our ways and I don’t want you to get caught in something you don’t expect.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve nothing to worry about—”

  She caught his arm. “Wulf, please. In our country, one social misstep could lead to a marriage you don’t want. You must take care never to be alone with her.”

  “I’m alone with you right now.”

  “That’s different,” she lied. “We’re in a field in broad daylight, and—and I’ve an injury, too. Besides, I will be on my way back to the castle before anyone knows you are here.”

  His grin was as instant as it was wicked. “So many protections, and yet still I kissed you.”

  Lily had to fight an oddly pleased smile. “You are incorrigible.”

  “At times. Do not worry about Miss Gordon. She is a friend, yes. But I have many friends.”

  Lily almost relaxed until he added in a thoughtful tone, “Still, I can see where you might feel some concern, for she is delightful woman. Very intelligent, too.”

  To her horror, Lily realized that somehow both of her hands had turned into fists as if she were ready to pummel someone.

  Wulf was looking at her with raised brows as if waiting for an answer, so she pasted a polite smile on her face. “Oh yes. She’s quite pleasant.” And she was, too. Lily liked Emma—or had until she and Wulf had begun their friendship.

  “Da, she has a delightful sense of humor, too. And her eyes are very fine, don’t you think? She will make someone a fine wife one day, just not me.”

  “Do not be so certain about that. Wulf, you don’t know the ways of society, so you must have a care. Our rules are—”

  “Far too plentiful. I will have a care, but do not worry about Emma. She is a pleasant companion and has become my friend. Besides, if I cannot be with you . . .” He shrugged. “She will do to pass the time.”

  “Surely there are other guests whose company you might enjoy. Perh
aps Lord MacPhearson? Or Mr. Daniels?”

  “MacPhearson has decided that because I do not have a Scottish accent, I must be deaf, and so he yells everything he says. I dislike that.”

  “So would I. What about Mr. Daniels? He seems very nice.”

  “He is well enough, I suppose, but I enjoy Miss Gordon’s company better. She entertains me very much and I like speaking with her.”

  Lily frowned, suddenly cross. So Wulf thinks Miss Gordon a paragon, does he? Lovely. Just lovely. When Lily had imagined this meeting, things had gone much differently. Wulf had been much struck by Lily’s sincere warning, admitted that he secretly found Miss Gordon’s company wearing, and then declared that he’d no longer so much as look in the woman’s direction.

  But instead . . . Lily sighed. Perhaps she was being unreasonable. After all, she was spending as much time with Huntley as she could, so she could hardly expect such a passionate man as Wulf to spend all of his time alone.

  Suddenly, her heart ached far worse than her shoulder.

  Concern instantly darkened his gaze. “Something is wrong. Is it your shoulder?”

  She moved away, looking toward her grazing horse. “I will have the duchess’s physician look at my shoulder, although I suspect that all he’ll suggest is ice.”

  Wulf’s brows lowered. “I don’t trust your Scottish doctors. You should let me send Arsov to you. He is very good with injuries.”

  “Arsov?”

  “Yes, my valet. He is very skilled at healing.”

  “Thank you, but I’m sure the duchess’s physician will be knowledgeable enough to tend to a simple bruised shoulder. Now, I must get back. Would you please help me onto my horse?”

  As depressing as it was, it was time she returned to her position as a proper guest of the duchess and the potential future wife of the Earl of Huntley. The thought sank her low spirits even lower.

  She caught Wulf’s gaze and realized that he looked none too pleased, either. She managed a smile. “I’ve been remiss; I haven’t even thanked you for coming to my rescue. It was very kind of you.”