by Randol, Anna
Why didn’t he say something already?
Finally, she turned. And jumped. He was directly behind her. His hand trailed down her cheek. “What bothers you about the painting?”
“Foolish, aren’t I? I suppose I should be glad the painting looks beautiful. That it might actually be enough to interest a man.”
He frowned. “I thought you were angry because the painter must be bloody blind. Where did the fool learn to paint?”
She winced. She knew she didn’t look much like the woman in the painting, but it stung to have it confirmed.
He caught her chin. “No, you are genuinely upset by this. Shall I toss it into the fire?”
She exhaled. “It’s too late. You have already seen it.”
Ian was very rarely at a loss, but he was now. Why did it matter that he’d seen the ridiculous thing? A disturbing thought occurred to him. “You cannot think I’d prefer that woodland tart to you.”
Juliana gave a choked snort.
“You do. Well, let me tell you. Her hair’s been mussed from a tumble with some woodcutter in the woods. Her cheeks are flushed from over-imbibing on wine. And her left arm is at a completely unnatural angle.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips, then faded.
“What happened to the woman triumphant at claiming her biscuits?”
Ian had the feeling she was weighing her response. He fully expected her to decline to answer. After all, he rarely came out ahead in these types of considerations.
“I cannot set foot in my homeland. I cannot give my people funds for seeds for planting. I cannot stop the French who are gathering on my borders. I cannot get the Spanish to listen to me. I cannot even get my own brother to listen. And apparently I cannot even look like a princess!” The words came out in an angry rush. “And now you’ve seen it and know what a bloody failure I am at everything. And you’re the one person I thought I didn’t have to impress, and yet I find I care immensely—” She set her lips in a hard line, and whirled away.
He should let this moment lengthen. He should make things awkward between them. Make her understand that her feelings were foolish.
Instead, he placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him.
“You spend every moment of the day carrying the burdens of an entire nation. Yet you have never once shirked. You’re willing to rob a madman to protect your brother. You’re brave and stubborn and clever. You’re more of a princess than any country could hope for.” Let it go there. Step away. But his damned fool mouth kept moving. “You’re far more of a woman than any man could dream of. You’re witty and charming. And your kisses set me afire.”
Her gaze dropped to his lips. Why the devil had he mentioned kisses? He needed to back away. If she kissed him now, things would end with him buried deep between those slender thighs. He was an expert at always finding alternatives. But he knew if he tasted her mouth again, he would not stop. Even sharing the same air with her seemed like the most erotic thing he’d ever done. To press his lips to her throat. To feel her tongue slip between his lips—
“And you pilfer a man biscuits,” he managed.
Her eyes lifted to the biscuits a few feet away, and Ian retreated, drinking air into his lungs and trying to bring his anatomy back under control.
“Thank you for listening to my foolishness,” Juliana said.
“Nothing you say will ever be foolish. Now shall we eat your prize?”
Amusement entered back into her gaze and she passed him a plate. “So, am I ready to rob a madman now?”
Ian found the cookies strangely unappetizing. But he put two in his pocket for later. “Yes, I think you are.”
But he wouldn’t let her.
She could steal the documents, but she shouldn’t have to. She was good. Pure. While Ian was already a creature of the gutter.
He’d find out what her blasted brother had done, then steal the evidence back himself.
Chapter Eighteen
“Wait. Pardon?” Juliana asked. She must have misheard. After all, the coaching yard of the inn was incredibly noisy. “My maid eloped with Gregory’s new valet? The footman that replaced his old valet?” The footman had only been elevated to the position yesterday.
“Yes!” Constantina said. “They snuck away together when we stopped in Cambry for tea.” Her aunt waved her fan vigorously. “Apparently they’d been in love for ages.”
“Love,” Leucretia said, her tone clearly indicating her opinion of it. “Now we will be appearing at the duke’s house understaffed and looking like fools. You will use my maid of course, but sharing maids . . . The couple should be found and horsewhipped.”
Ian joined the group and bowed. He was dressed in black with silver trim, the livery of the Lenorian court. He’d ridden escort with three of the other grooms, but he’d been assigned to the back corner of the coach, so she’d been unable to see him without hanging her head from the window.
She couldn’t drink in the sight of him now, either, since he was next to her, but she could study him from the corner of her eye. The livery fit him to perfection, his broad shoulders appearing impossibly massive. And thanks to Constantina’s adaptations in the uniform a few years ago, his tight, well-muscled backside was clearly visible.
And he was close enough she could breathe him in. Horses. Sandalwood.
And biscuits?
She noticed a small lump in his livery pocket. Leftovers from tea, no doubt.
“With all due respect, Your Highnesses.”
Now she could look at him. But she couldn’t. She feared too much would be in her gaze.
“We have sent for a new valet and maid. The agency will send replacements directly to the duke’s estate. They should arrive shortly after us tomorrow.” Ian’s hand brushed the back of hers slightly as he spoke.
She shifted a little to try to increase the contact, but Ian’s hand moved away.
Is this what she was reduced to now, trying to sneak a single touch from him in an inn courtyard?
Apparently, because she found herself searching for an excuse to try again.
Constantina’s eyes lingered on Ian’s lower half. “Very good. What did you say your name was, groom?”
“Bogglesworth, Your Highness.”
“Well, Bogglesworth, I can see you are quite . . . trustworthy. Would you carry my trunks to my room personally?”
Juliana had to turn her laugh into a cough. But, drat, why hadn’t she thought of that?
The lead groom came to stand next to Ian and bowed. “The rooms are prepared.”
Eustace finally descended from the coach to join them, and they entered the inn. A few minutes later, they were all comfortably ensconced in their rooms to freshen up before dinner.
Or at least the others were. Juliana didn’t have a maid to help her out of her dress yet. So she wasn’t all that comfortable. The innkeeper said he’d send one of his girls up to tend her, but she hadn’t come yet. Juliana wandered over to the window and pressed it open as wide as she could, hoping to catch the evening breeze.
And a glance at Ian if she could find him.
She started to tug off her gloves and froze. There was a paper in her left glove. It definitely hadn’t been there when she’d put them on.
Juliana slowly removed the thin strip and unfolded it. The writing was bold and slashing but surprisingly neat.
More training tonight.
P.S. Do you know how hot black is in this damned blasted weather?
Her heart hammered against her chest. He wasn’t done with her then. At least not yet. She’d relish any remaining moments she had with him.
She knew she should have more pride than that. And she would. Eventually. Tonight she would enjoy herself.
There was a knock at the door. Juliana crumpled the note and jammed it in a crack under the window. “Enter.”
Ian strode in carrying a huge wooden tub across his shoulders. He set the tub in the center of the room, then backed out with a wink.
Footmen tromped up the stairs carrying buckets of water. Soon the last one left, closing the door behind him.
Well, that was just cruel. Now she had to be dusty and sweaty and stare longingly into water she couldn’t manage to get into without a maid’s help.
“You need assistance, don’t you?” Ian asked from behind her.
She spun about.
“Come now. The open window was an invitation.”
Juliana glanced around, and motioned for him to be silent. Her aunts were in the rooms on either side of her and the walls were only wood. “A maid will be here any moment.” And while she might have been able to explain Ian following her in the corridor last night, she wouldn’t be able to explain him in her room with a drawn bath.
“No, she won’t.”
“The innkeeper said—”
“The innkeeper thinks you are sharing your aunt’s maid and your aunt thinks you are being assisted by the innkeeper’s daughter.”
“But that leaves me without a maid to help me out of my dress.”
Ian lifted a brow.
Oh.
But if he thought she’d blush, he was wrong. She turned so he could reach her buttons.
“Who said you get the first bath?” he asked.
She spun to face him. “What?” She only remembered to whisper at the last moment.
“You made me dress in black wool livery in the heat of summer. You owe me.”
“I most certainly do not. The livery are of the finest quality. They are quite comfortable—”
“Your servants are dirty liars if they told you that. It’s like being slowly roasted alive in an oven filled with ants.”
“You do not get the first bath.” Juliana knew some people often shared bathwater, but ick.
“Try to stop me.” He had his livery jacket off before he’d finished speaking.
He wouldn’t. But then his waistcoat followed.
She struggled to reach her own buttons. She could reach the top one on her own.
But by then Ian had his boots off as well.
With a bit of stretching, she could reach the second one. But blast it all, there was no way she could get the third. “Is it your goal to think of as many ways as possible for me to see you unclothed?”
He paused, shirt halfway off his head. “I had to have something to keep me occupied on the ride.”
He dropped his shirt.
She’d seen him without it before, but that was in the dark, across a room, in a blind panic.
Now he was inches from her. In the rosy twilight. And what hummed inside her was far more wild.
He was glorious. Rough hewn. Smooth planes. She wanted to reach out and trace her finger over the ridges on his stomach.
“You might want to turn around now, Princess, my breeches are coming off next.”
“And if I don’t?”
He froze for the second time, but then reached for the button. “As you wish.” He pulled his breeches off, revealing his white linen drawers.
And the state of his arousal.
“Um” was the brilliant witticism she managed to utter.
“Remember, I did try to be a gentleman—for the first time in my life, I might add—and warn you. Here is my last attempt—you might want to look away now.”
But she couldn’t. That bulge fascinated her more than any other thing she’d seen in her life. “Feeling shy?” she asked.
He removed his drawers with a single tug. “Shy is not a word that has ever applied to me.”
Sweet heavens. She did that to him. She should have been shocked, scandalized, but instead she felt more powerful than she ever had before.
She wanted to wrap her fingers around the length of him. She wanted to stroke him and know his texture and weight.
“Hell’s teeth, woman.” Ian climbed into the bath and sat, scooping up a handful of water and pouring it onto his face. “Total madness, Ian. Completely daft. Moronic—”
“Are you talking to yourself?”
He shrugged, the muscles rippling in his shoulders. “Figured I was a complete bedlamite already. Why the hell not?” He dunked his head in the water in front of him. “I have no idea what I was thinking. No, that’s a lie. I did know. I was thinking that I loved to watch a blush darken your cheeks. And that adorable way your mouth gapes when I startle you. I was thinking how nice it would be to not smell like a horse.” He rubbed his hand through his hair, leaving it in sharp, uneven spikes. “I wasn’t thinking about that deliciously scandalous side you keep so deeply hidden. Nor did I expect you to look at me as if you wanted to lick me. Hell, Princess, there’s only so much a man can take.”
“Just how much is that?” Lick him. Now that inspired a whole new set of wicked images. She strolled toward him. Water droplets clung to his lashes and sparkled on his cheeks.
He sat up straight so quickly, water sluiced over the side. “With you, not much. You just have to look at me and I ache for a week.”
She bent and picked up the smooth white bar of soap the footmen had left. After dipping it into the water, she rubbed it between her hands. “Hmm . . . lavender. Lean forward.”
Ian’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean to do?”
Enjoy herself. She’d go to Sommet’s house and save her brother. Then she would try to woo Prince Wilhelm to try to save her country.
This moment would be just for her.
“You said I owed you for making you wear that uniform,” she explained. “I don’t like to be in debt.”
She set down the soap, and lowered her hands to his shoulders. He quivered under her fingers, so she continued. Spreading the bubbles all over the thick, corded muscles.
“How am I going to explain to the other grooms why I smell like lilacs?”
“Lavender.”
“It’s a bloody flower. Same difference.” He was right. The scent should have been feminine. Instead, on him, it smelled earthy and sweet.
She let her hands slide down the edges of his shoulder blades. “I think the other grooms might be jealous.”
His voice was little more than a low rumble. “How can they be jealous of what they haven’t dared to imagine?”
Her heart lurched. Actually skipped a beat. It was as if her entire being paused, then restarted at the twice the speed.
“Lean forward,” she ordered. She created more bubbles, then slowly worked them down the hollow of his spine until she reached the edge of the water.
After only a moment’s hesitation, she slipped her hands under the water to explore the rest of his back. She’d known having him touch her would feel good, but how could touching him make the heat pool between her legs? Her breathing was erratic and heaving.
Finally, her hands met the firm swell of his backside. Heavens, he was truly firm and muscled every—
His hands shot from the water and grabbed the outsides of her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides. With a move like a bullfighter, he spun her around to the side of the tub.
Another tug had her down on her knees. His hand anchored around her neck and drew her to him. His lips were fierce. Hungry. Water dripped from his wet hand down her bodice. “You wanted to know how much I could take? That’s about it.” He buried his hands in her hair, tugging out pins until it spilled around them, the ends dangling into the bath. “You drive me to madness. You make me want things I shouldn’t have. And I’m very bad at denying myself what I want.”
His tongue flicked along the seam of her lips until she opened for him, their tongues tangled, searched.
But he wasn’t the only one who’d had tension building. Ever building. Her hands swept down his chest.
“If your hands are on my chest, it seems only fair . . .” He drew her closer so he could kiss his way down her throat, then along the edge of her bodice.
She moaned.
He drew away and placed a finger on her lips. “Remember your neighbors.”
She closed her eyes. He was right. Her moment of pleasure was thr
eatening to be much, much more.
And she didn’t care.
She wanted him. If he kissed her again, she’d give in. She’d let him strip the dress from her body. Trail the cooling water over her bare breasts and watch her nipples harden.
He could lay her back on the bed or even take her here straddling him in the bath.
But there in the backs of her eyes, he could see it. The knowledge that she should care about what she was doing. The knowledge that she’d regret it later.
And he couldn’t stand the thought of her regretting him.
Ian pressed her away and doused himself with several handfuls of water. “Sorry, Jules. I make it a rule never to bed women who don’t really want me.”
Confusion warred with her arousal. “I do want you.”
She was more far gone than he’d feared if she’d admit to that. “You have reservations.”
“I . . .”
But it was true. He ignored the discomfort that lodged in the center of his chest. Damned inconvenient things, these emotions. “You may want me now, but you don’t want anything more than this moment. I can’t allow you to take advantage of me like that.”
She wiped a droplet of water from her collarbone and narrowed her gaze. “And all those other women you’ve bedded? Did they take advantage of you? Or do you just have reservations about me?” A hint of uncertainty crossed her face.
Damnation. He dunked his head under the water until he couldn’t hold his breath anymore. Those other women hadn’t wanted him, either. They’d wanted the pleasure he could bring in bed. They’d wanted an illicit thrill. But they hadn’t wanted him.
And truth be told, he hadn’t really wanted them, either.
But he did want Juliana. He wanted her so much that he’d never let her have a clue how much he wanted her.
“Those other women were eminently more tuppable than you.” He ignored her swift inhalation. “They came without complications, and you, Princess, are nothing but a complication.”
She sighed. “It is not my intent. And just so you know, I think I’d be quite tuppable under other circumstances.”
Had he just made a princess claim to be tuppable? What level of hell did that land him in? “What circumstances are those?”
