Sins of a Wicked Princess (Sinner's Trio)

by Randol, Anna

  She plopped back on her backside, tucking her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. “For instance, if I was a shopgirl.”

  “It’s rather difficult to think of you as a shopgirl when your dress costs more than they would make in an entire year.”

  “I could do without them, you know.”

  “Gowns? No, I think even shopgirls require clothing.”

  She gave him a weary smile. “The expensive gowns. If you think the livery is uncomfortable, you should try wearing five layers of velvet to an overcrowded ball.”

  He was trying to keep her away, so why was this conversation making him feel closer to her? “If you were a shopgirl, what would you do? I don’t suspect you have many marketable skills. Embroidery, perhaps?”

  “Millinery.”

  “You’d make bonnets?”

  She glowered at him. “I do make bonnets. I am quite good.”

  “Bonnets?”

  She jumped to her feet, strode to her trunk, and pulled out a box. After a quick glance over her shoulder she opened it. Inside was indeed a half-finished bonnet. A length of ribbon and a spool of thread lay next to it.

  “Don’t you have a maid to do that?”

  “I like to do it. I like to think that I’m not completely useless. That I’m more than a frivolous, flighty thing.”

  He loved the challenge in her eye, daring him to mock her secret hobby. “You’re neither of those things. I take it back. You’d make a lovely shopgirl.”

  He also loved the way she fought against her smile. “Yes, I would. And you could be a bank clerk.”

  “A bank clerk. You’d trust me near all that money? And besides, can you not think of anything more daring? I am a feared spy.” He stood up in the bath. “Hand me a towel, shopgirl.”

  But she was staring at him again, the box holding her bonnet falling from her fingers to the ground. But his princess wasn’t shocked for long, and her expression turned minxish. “If I’m a shopgirl, then that towel will cost you.”

  “What?” he tried to ask. But it emerged as a rather embarrassing croak. All the blood that had never fully dissipated from his groin surged back, throbbing with each beat of his heart. He cleared his throat. “What will it cost me?”

  “A touch. I get to touch you wherever I choose.”

  Surely, she wouldn’t—

  But her gaze rested on his arousal. If she caressed him, she’d get far more than a single touch.

  Desperation made his words harsh. “But you aren’t a shopgirl. Do you have any idea what the life of a shopgirl is even like? The days of little food. The nights without coal. The shawls too thin to keep out the winter’s chill. The groping hands of customers. Old age spent scrimping every penny. You have nothing in common with a shopgirl.”

  She spun away, the line of her spine straight. The small V where she’d unbuttoned the top of her dress only served to make her seem more vulnerable. “I’m not a fool. It was simply a silly fantasy.”

  He grabbed a towel himself and wrapped it around his hips. “One best forgotten.”

  When she turned around, Ian had his breeches back on. “You said you had more training.”

  He tugged his shirt on over his head. “You need to know how to defend yourself.”

  She thought he muttered, “From imbeciles like me.” But she couldn’t be sure.

  “Does this training involve hitting you?” Juliana asked.

  “If you can. You last attempt was rather . . . less than damaging.”

  Oh, she’d damage him this time. “How do I start?”

  Ian’s mouth quirked. “Should we wait to do this training until you aren’t planning on breaking my legs?”

  “Only if you’re afraid I can.” She balled her hands into fists.

  He frowned at her. “First of all, you are going to break your hand if you punch like that. Second of all, against most men, you probably won’t be able to hurt them too much with a—”

  “Show me how to make a fist.”

  He pulled her thumb to cover her first two knuckles and straightened her wrist. As soon as he stepped away, she swung.

  He easily caught her arm, but couldn’t help grinning. “You actually intended to hit me with that, didn’t you?”

  Yes, she had. She almost caught him with her other fist, but then he pinned both hands to her side, which brought his lips inches from hers. “As I was saying, you probably won’t be able to do much damage with your fist unless you connect with a lucky spot, such as the throat. And even if you do punch correctly, you will likely break your hand, so instead I’d recommend an open palm like this.”

  He let go of her slowly as to ensure she wasn’t going to punch him on the side of the head and showed her how to hold her fingers together and hit with the heel of her hand. “Go for the nose or the eye sockets if you are aiming for the face. If you are going for the stomach, I would aim here instead.” He placed a finger in the V where her ribs came together inches below her breasts.

  They both stilled. If she tilted her face up, their lips would meet, and from the way he leaned forward he knew it, too. His pupils had dilated, making his eyes deep and hungry.

  Her hand connected with his chest with all the force she could muster.

  The air whooshed out of his lungs and he staggered back. He held up a hand forestalling the second attack she’d planned to aim at his nose. He sucked in several breaths, his hand planted on his knees.

  Her grin at besting him slowly ebbed, as did her anger at his earlier lecture when he remained doubled over. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.

  His gaze was rueful. “Thank goodness I haven’t taught you to use your knees yet.”

  “My knees?”

  He then spent the next little while going through various attacks she could do with her knees, elbows, and feet.

  Finally, however, sweat was dripping into her eyes and her arms had begun to shake.

  Ian bowed. “We’ll move on to some basics with daggers tomorrow.” He tugged his livery jacket back on, then walked to the window.

  “Wait,” she called out. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she wanted to say. She only knew that she didn’t want him to leave. “Is this part of the training really necessary?”

  “If Sommet is going to be anywhere near you—yes.”

  “What do you know of him?”

  Ian hesitated. “He’s a foul excuse of a man.”

  “I know. But you must know more specifics.” She’d seen how he reacted when he learned the name.

  Ian frowned. “The problem with Sommet is that no one knows anything about him. It’s all rumor and whispered accusations.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the man might have sold British army munitions to the French a few times during the war. Rumors of men sent on suicide missions who dared to question him. Accusations that he might be taking bribes from the very criminals he swore to punish.”

  “Then why has no one tried to stop him?”

  Ian’s face was stark in the twilight. “People have. They just have all failed. The entire bloody lot of them.”

  She ignored the cold finger trailing down her spine.

  Ian stepped toward her and caught her elbow. “What does he have on your brother? I will get it for you. You can go home. Stay safe.”

  It was so tempting. She hadn’t wanted this added burden to begin with, but this was her task. Her responsibility. She would trust him with her life, but she couldn’t trust him with her brother’s. With the future of her nation. That was something she alone was accountable for. “I cannot tell you.”

  His fingers tightened. “Why not?”

  “You have said time and time again that I’m not to trust you.”

  “What if I told you that you could trust me in this?”

  But she shook her head. “Why would you want to help me? You have no love for my brother.”

  He exhaled and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Because I already have reason to confront Somme
t. There’s no reason for you to be in danger as well.”

  “Except for my entire country.”

  “What Sommet has is truly that damaging?”

  She nodded.

  “And when the papers go missing? What are the odds he’ll guess it was you that took them?”

  It was something she’d tried to avoid thinking about. “Rather high. But perhaps he’ll think I hired someone to do it.”

  “So do that. Hire me. And when he comes asking, give the bastard my name.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ian was feeling rather bloodthirsty at the moment. The thought of Sommet threatening Juliana filled him with a rage hotter than he’d ever experienced.

  And it was a righteous rage for once in his sorry life. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt this woman.

  She might not ever be his. But he’d give his very soul to see her safe.

  So when she swung at him again, he barely saved himself from a black eye.

  “How dare you,” Juliana said. “I do not let others bear my risks. ”

  Ian pulled her against him just so he didn’t have to worry about her attacking him. “I never said that you did. And how have I never suspected this violent streak you harbor?”

  “No, you think I am a silly princess who doesn’t understand how things truly are.”

  “No—”

  “Yes, you do. But I’m not. I know how things are in the real world. I carried my brother over my mother’s broken, dead body. Is that real enough for you?” She shoved against him, but he only held her tighter. “How about when all my advisers decided that I wasn’t competent and that they should make my decisions for me? I managed to keep control, only to have to decide which village to send aid to and which had to be told they either had to lose their farms or starve to death in the winter. Or how I’ll have to bed a man I care nothing about for the rest of my life just so my country will be able to exist.” Her chest heaved against him. “I may be a princess, but I’m not weak or silly. And when we get to Sommet’s tomorrow, you’d better stay out of my way.”

  Damnation, but she was magnificent. And he couldn’t even kiss her.

  Like hell he couldn’t.

  He crushed his lips to hers, drawing on her anger, her outrage. He deserved them both. “When I said those things, it was because if you’d touched me, you wouldn’t have left this room a virgin.”

  And there it was again. The debate in her eyes. Always her blasted obligation and duty. But those two things were so central to her, he doubted she could survive without them.

  But heaven help him if the desire ever won completely.

  There was a knock on her door. “Juliana? Did I hear you cry out?” It was Eustace.

  “No.” Juliana cleared her throat and tried a bit louder. “No, I’m fine it must have been voices from the common room below.”

  Ian’s hand brushed the side of her breast as he moved away. Her breath caught and she glared at him.

  Really, how could he resist that?

  So he reached out and ran his finger purposefully over her puckered nipple.

  Her teeth bit her lip and her eyes clenched shut.

  “Shall we go over the information I was able to gather on Wilhelm?” her aunt asked.

  She opened her eyes, and the challenge in them was unmistakable. “Absolutely, Aunt Eustace. Come in. Right now.”

  Juliana wasn’t sure where Ian was. But even as fast as he was, he couldn’t have made it outside.

  Curse him for making her impulsive. The man was a terrible influence.

  And yet she felt freer and happier than she’d felt in years.

  Eustace sailed into the room. She frowned when she saw Juliana. “Why haven’t you bathed?”

  Juliana sat on the used towel on her bed before Eustace could spot it. “The water was too cold. I need warmer water.” And where had Ian gone? She could hardly have a conversation about the man she was supposed to woo while Ian was in the room.

  Her aunt tucked her hands neatly in front of her. “I have heard Wilhelm cares for three things. His five-year-old daughter. His musical compositions. And—”

  “And making sure his next wife is enjoyable in bed.”

  “Leucretia!” Eustace’s voice was shocked.

  Leucretia glided into the room. “Sorry, I heard your first two, and I had to step in. You and Constantina have been providing her with information on all the previous princes. It obviously hasn’t been working. It is time for a bit more.” Leucretia gestured to her own cleavage.

  Blood heated Juliana cheeks. Her eyes slowly scanned the room trying to find where Ian could be hiding. There wasn’t all that much furniture in the room. “Perhaps we should move this conversation—”

  “Shared interests are far more important.”

  “Nonsense, Eustace. You might think no one knows what you and Albert would do in the conservatory, but that isn’t the case.”

  Eustace’s mouth gaped. “We were betrothed.”

  “Precisely. And we want Juliana to become betrothed.” She held up a finger to stall Eustace’s protests. “I’m not telling her to sleep with him. I’m simply telling her that Wilhelm is rumored to be one of the few princes who didn’t stray from his wedding vows. If a potential bride makes monogamy seem enticing, he won’t be able to resist.”

  Eustace pursed her lips as if she couldn’t think of an argument against it, either.

  “Shouldn’t Constantina be a part of this conversation?” Juliana asked.

  Both of her aunts looked at her like she was mad.

  Leucretia’s lip curled. “Constantina’s idea of romance is to pinch a footman on the arse.”

  “Leucretia—”

  But Leucretia didn’t pause. “It is the truth. Now about Wilhelm. You’re pretty enough that he will at least have a slight desire to kiss you. When he does, part your lips. Don’t keep them pressed tightly together like a virgin.”

  This whole situation was too ridiculous. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be?”

  Juliana could have sworn she heard a muffled cough somewhere to her right. The leather arm chair, perhaps?

  “Yes, but the idea of bedding one isn’t all that appealing to a man. You might try pressing your breasts against his chest as he kisses you.”

  “Why would I do that?” Juliana asked.

  Leucretia waved her hand. “Men seem to enjoy it.”

  Eustace’s red face verged on purple now.

  “Very well,” Juliana said. “And should I allow him to put his tongue in my mouth?”

  Both aunts stared at her.

  Leucretia lifted a brow. “Perhaps you need this discussion less than I thought.”

  Eustace finally recovered enough to speak. “Yes, you might tempt Wilhelm with such things.” Her face drew into more pensive lines. “But that is not the basis for a relationship.”

  “And pretending to share interests is?” Leucretia asked.

  Eustace’s spine straightened. “No, but a marriage needs more than sex.”

  “Says the woman who was married to a man old enough to be her father.”

  Eustace spun on Leucretia, her eyes blazing, lighting her with an inner fire that Juliana had never seen in the staid, older woman. “Albert was more of a man than you would ever know compared to those fops and dandies that never stay more than a month in your bed. You’ll never know what it’s like to move past that first blush of passion into something far more incredible. Far deeper. Far more intense. You’re the one who’d been cheated by love.”

  Leucretia lifted her chin, her red lips dark against her pale skin. “You have no idea how greatly I’ve been cheated.” She whirled away and strode from the room.

  Eustace closed her eyes briefly, but then followed her sister from the room.

  “Well, your family certainly is more dramatic than I was led to believe.” Ian stood. He was on the complete opposite side of the room than she’d expected. “I can throw my voice, too,” he explained.

  She
wanted that love Eustace had spoken of. A man whom she cared more and more deeply for as time passed.

  And she couldn’t have that with Ian. They both knew it. It was cruel to both of them to keep this going.

  She spoke past the burning in her throat. “Will you arrange for fresh water to be brought to my room? And send the innkeeper’s daughter up to help me undress.”

  The humor faded from his face, and he gave her a smart bow. “Very well, Your Highness.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Duke of Sommet’s house wasn’t a house—it was a castle. And not a castle as her parents’ home in Lenoria had been—fanciful, majestic. This castle was one that had been made to dominate. To subjugate the land and the people around it.

  And yet women in pastel dresses flitted around large white tents that had been set up on the lawns for a picnic. And gentlemen had arranged themselves in a game of cricket.

  Even through the thick glass of the coach window, the occasional burst of laughter and the sharp crack of the bat could be heard.

  One of the men playing would undoubtedly be Gregory. Her brother could never pass up an opportunity to show off his skills as a bowler. And since he’d ridden ahead on horseback this morning—accompanied by Ian—he would already likely be rested from the journey.

  She wanted to watch the men playing and see if perhaps Ian was around as well, but Juliana knew better than to let her aunts catch her gawking out the window.

  Although perhaps having her aunts correct her would be a relief. At least they’d agree on something. Leucretia and Eustace had bickered the entire six-hour ride and the two hours they’d spent stopped on the side of the road because Contantina said Lulu, the ferret, was ill. Juliana shuddered at the memory.

  Juliana remained silent the entire time.

  The weight of everything she had to do pressed on her chest until she couldn’t keep enough air in her lungs.

  But she ignored the fear. Did she wish she was in a position where she could pursue Ian?

  Yes.

  Did she want to fight an evil man to save her country?

  No.