Princess Charming

by Nicole Jordan

She knew what would happen between them.

  Without conscious thought, Maura found herself moving closer. Then she was standing before the fire, staring up at Beaufort, at his sensuous mouth, the strong planes of his face, the sheer intensity of his eyes. She saw warmth there in his gaze … the promise of something thrilling. His expression seemed unbearably intimate, as if he could see into her very heart.

  Perhaps he could, she thought when he murmured, “Do you want me, love?”

  If she were honest, she had to answer yes. He aroused something fierce and passionate inside her. No doubt this wild desire she felt was madness, but just now she wanted to surrender to his spellbinding enchantment.

  Even the practical, sensible side of her wasn’t protesting. He was right; she could act on her desire with relative impunity. After journeying across England with him and spending their nights together, becoming Beaufort’s lover could hardly taint her reputation any more.

  Maura closed her eyes, knowing her decision was already made. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to step into his arms and let the heat of his body banish her remaining chill. As she pressed her face into his bare shoulder, she could smell the clean warmth of his skin, feel the silken texture against her cheek.

  He held her that way for a short span. Then bending his head, he put his mouth against the side of her neck, where her pulse raced wildly.

  “Do you want me, Maura?” he repeated more firmly, although still leaving her the choice.

  She took a deep breath and lifted her face to his. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He hesitated for another heartbeat, searching her face for any sign of reluctance. He must have been reassured by her expression, for he lowered his head and captured her mouth with an urgency that caught her by surprise.

  Holding her against his fully aroused body, he kissed her hard, his mouth hot, wet, open against hers, giving her a tantalizing taste of his need, compelling her to respond.

  Just as suddenly, he broke off the kiss and caught her arms, then stepped back, as if forcing himself to slow down.

  “You will be the death of my willpower,” he muttered, his tone softening to rough gravel.

  He had already annihilated her willpower, Maura thought dazedly. She could hear the racing thud of her heartbeat as he smiled faintly at her.

  “We need to go slowly,” he said, more to remind himself than her, she suspected.

  His first step was to cross to the bed and fetch a pillow. Returning to her side, he slipped the blanket off her shoulders and spread it on the floor before the hearth, with the pillow at one end.

  Then he undressed her, removing her stockings and gown. When she stood naked before him, he unfastened the towel around his waist and let it fall to the floor. Maura’s breath faltered at his magnificent male nudity. The hiss and crackle of the fire seemed loud in the hushed silence as he drank her in with his eyes and she did the same with him.

  When a shiver danced over her skin, an expression of regret fleetingly swept his features.

  “I am neglecting my duty,” he murmured, his voice low and vibrant. “I promised I would warm you.”

  Taking her hand, he drew her down to the blanket and stretched out beside her. With their heads sharing the pillow, her back to the fire, he pulled her close. His skin was hot, sleek, smooth against hers, Maura noted as he ran his hand along the curve of her spine.

  Her eyes fluttered shut when he began caressing her body … her hip, her thigh, her breast.… His warm hand stopped her breath. His palm molded the ripe swells, making glorious sensations clamor through her.

  Then he kissed her again, renewing the rush of enchantment. It was like drinking fire.

  He spent a long time making love to her mouth, slow languorous kisses that sent fresh heat welling and spiraling between them. At the same time, he began to stroke her stomach.

  Feeling desire pool between her thighs, Maura gave a helpless murmur of pleasure. Her skin seemed to melt under his touch, even before his hand moved lower. Reaching her loins, he probed her downy curls with his seeking fingers until he held the hot center of her in his palm.

  When Maura gasped at the sweet shock of it, he drew his mouth back.

  “Lie still,” he ordered, his voice resonant and sensual. “Let me pleasure you, Maura.”

  She obeyed him, although restlessly. His fingers resumed caressing her silky curls, slowly rubbing over the swollen lips of her sex. Then his thumb found the slick bud hidden between her folds.

  Maura shuddered at the riveting pleasure he gave her. In response, Beaufort only increased the pressure, deliberately circling. The tiny pearl was already hard and aching by the time he slowly slid one finger into her slick heat.

  The yearning within her grew as he stroked her inside and out. Maura whimpered again in delight … then in disappointment when his enchanting caresses ended and his bewitching mouth broke away from hers.

  Dismayed that he had stopped, she opened her eyes, missing the heated wetness of his kiss, but he was only shifting his position.

  His handsome face tender, he rose up on his knees and moved over her, positioning himself between her spread thighs with his hands braced on either side of her shoulders. His sensual mouth was still damp from hers when he lowered his head to her breasts. He nuzzled her softly, his lips roughly tender, his tongue tracing burning caresses around her fullness, teasing her nipple, massaging it in shuddering waves with his tongue.

  For a time he went on attending each crest, stroking and suckling till both were hard, aching points before moving lower. With slow, exquisite care, Beaufort kissed the bindings marks marring her skin. Then his head dipped even further, his mouth skimming along her body, brushing over the sensitive skin of her abdomen.

  As his hot lips worked their spell, Maura shifted fitfully on the blanket.

  “Be still,” he ordered, the words husky against her skin.

  How could she possibly remain still? She was hot and trembling, every muscle in her body quivering.

  He seemed to touch every inch of her, setting burning tendrils of arousal ablaze inside her. And that was before he shifted his weight back on his heels and used his fingers to spread her thighs wide.…

  Her breath caught in a tangled thread as his hands slid beneath her buttocks. When she realized his intent, Maura went rigid, her fingers grasping reflexively at his hair. “Beaufort …?”

  Pausing, he glanced up at her, his smile tender. “Call me Ash. I think we have progressed beyond such formalities by now, don’t you?”

  “Very well … Ash. What do you mean to do?”

  “To kiss the heart of your sex with my mouth and tongue. Don’t tense your body,” he commanded, his voice rich and dark. “You’ll enjoy this, I promise.”

  Without waiting for permission, he lowered his wicked mouth to trace a sensuous path over her woman’s mound. When he settled on her pulsing cleft, Maura gasped at the bright flare of sensation.

  “Oh … my … heaven …”

  Her hips jerked as a moan escaped her, which only made his fingers tighten on her buttocks.

  “Don’t fight it, love.…”

  Holding her still so he could have his fill of her, he grazed his tongue over her with consummate skill, stroking slowly, the pressure hot and rasping. When he drew the sensitive nub of her sex into his open mouth, sucking gently, Maura began to writhe and twist.

  She was trembling violently now, shaking with need more powerful than she had ever known. Her fists clutched in the thick waves of his hair, her moans turning to soft sobs as fire leapt from his mouth to her flesh.

  “That’s right, give in to it.…” he urged.

  She could do nothing else. The mounting fire inside her burned hotter and hotter until her entire world was blazing.

  At last the exquisite torment was too intense to bear. Her body convulsed, sending starbursts of sparks flying through every part of her.

  As she arched her spine, his lips kept on plying her, dredging the fin
al spasms of bliss from her shaking body.

  In the hushed aftermath, he placed a final tender kiss on her stomach, then stretched out beside her again and held her while the last tremors subsided.

  Her face buried against the fire-warmed skin of his shoulder, Maura lay weak and dazed, panting harshly, listening to her still-pounding heart. She was no longer cold in the least. In truth, she felt gloriously overheated, boneless with sensation.

  Beaufort … Ash … had given her incredible pleasure, the kind she had only dreamed of before. He was a splendid lover, just as he’d claimed. He was everything she’d always fantasized about and more.

  “Is it always like this?” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Like what?”

  She raised her gaze to his. “So … intense.”

  His green eyes were thoughtful and warm. “No. Such intensity is actually rather rare.”

  Maura hesitated to reply. She had only slowly begun recovering her senses, yet she knew their act of lovemaking was not complete. Ash had felt none of the shattering pleasure he had given her, she realized. He still was full and swollen; she could feel the hard ridge of his manhood against her stomach.

  When she tilted her hips tentatively, shifting toward him, he winced as if in pain.

  “Don’t …” he warned.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Arouse me any further.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I might explode.”

  Her eyes widening with uncertainty, she brought her hand up to splay against his bare chest. “What if … I wanted to arouse you? The way you did me?”

  He exhaled a slow breath, but he didn’t reject her request outright. Nor did he stop her when she traced a tentative path down his chest to his loins, or when she let her fingers cover the thick pulsing heat of him. The feel of that hard arousal caused her stomach to contract—and his as well, she could tell.

  His jaw tense, he kept his gaze locked with hers. His stillness spoke of rigid control when she began to caress him the way he had done her, with slow, rhythmic touches.

  She relished touching him, Maura realized, watching his handsome face. His entire body vibrated with strength and life, while his skin was hot enough to scorch.

  Evidently he was not happy with her efforts, however, for he soon brushed her fingers away.

  “Was I doing it badly?” Maura asked in a small voice.

  His short laugh held pain and humor both. “No, not at all, sweetheart. I just can’t bear your torment any longer. Give me a moment,” he added more harshly as he closed his own fingers around his swollen shaft.

  In several sharp strokes, he brought himself to release. He shut his eyes momentarily, grimacing as his body shuddered, then went still.

  Realizing he had spilled his seed into his hand, Maura felt a vague stab of disappointment. She had wanted to be the one to pleasure him. But perhaps he preferred to retain control of a seduction and didn’t like ceding too much power to her.

  It was an intriguing question, Maura thought as he eased his body back from hers.

  She lay there feeling uncertain when he rose and went to the tub to wash away the evidence of their passion. Seeing his superb body bronzed by firelight, she felt her breath catch again, but she kept quiet as he returned to the blanket.

  When he lay down beside her again and gathered her in his arms, she tensed with shyness, then made herself relax. After the intimacies that had just passed between them, it was foolish to feel bashful around him.

  He might have been thinking along similar lines, judging by his next remark:

  “This blanket is comfortable enough for now, but when we sleep, I propose we share the bed.”

  Maura glanced regretfully out the window again, where the rain was still pouring down. “I suppose you are right.”

  Ash was not as sanguine about sleeping with her as he pretended, however. After tasting Maura’s sweetness just now, he wasn’t certain he could endure the torture all night long, certainly not in the nude.

  “Did you bring a nightgown with you?” he asked.

  “No. There wasn’t room in my saddlebags, and it would have seemed odd for a peddler lad to be in possession of a nightdress. Why?”

  “Because you’ll need to put on some clothes when we turn in. I don’t dare spend the night in bed with you with no barriers between us.”

  At her questioning glance, he expounded. “I might act on my lust in my sleep. I don’t trust myself not to ravish you.”

  Her smile held a warm glint of humor. “I am not certain I trust you either.”

  That enchanting, provocative smile of hers made fresh desire flare inside Ash.

  Forcibly holding his hunger in check, he let his head fall back on the pillow. He lay there savoring the feel of her, remembering his body’s response when he’d undressed her for the first time. He had made love to innumerable lovely women before Maura, but none of them had ever aroused him so strongly or kindled this sharp swell of possessiveness inside him.

  Like Maura, he hadn’t expected the intensity, either. It astounded him, the power of his desire for her.

  Which only heightened his dilemma.

  Bringing her to pleasure had given him a primal satisfaction, as did knowing he was her first lover. Yet he wanted more.

  Even now he had to fight the savage urge to drag Maura beneath him and make her fully his. His efficient, dispassionate climax had eased his physical pain for the moment, but he wouldn’t be sated till he rested deep and tight inside her.

  Yet honorably, to have that right, he would have to wed her.

  Ash was understandably leery of taking such a drastic step after so fleeting a courtship, even if there was no denying that Maura had gotten into his blood. He doubted she would accept a proposal of marriage from him, in any case.

  Which meant that he would have to resort to coercion to implement his plan. Thus, he was very glad for the storm and even for her stallion’s temporary lameness, since he needed a powerful excuse to keep Maura at the inn with him until his letter to Bow Street bore fruit.

  In the meantime, Ash knew, he would have to keep a strict rein on his desire and refrain from claiming her warm, delectable body for his own.

  Maura’s enchantment lasted through the night as she slept in the bed, wrapped in Ash’s arms. Her frustration, however, returned by morning. A chill drizzling rain was still coming down, making the conditions for travel unpleasant if not actually precarious.

  After a breakfast of poached eggs and cold beef, Ash visited the stables and reported back that the stallion’s shoe had been replaced, but he was still favoring his left fore despite a poultice. Ash also unearthed a two-day-old newspaper and brought Maura a novel that a passing traveler had left behind. Yet she kept vigil at the window, fretting over the dreary weather and watching the occasional activity in the inn yard below.

  It was clear that Ash felt none of her urgency.

  “Stop pacing, Maura,” he exhorted for the second time that morning. “You are wearing a groove in the floorboards.”

  “I am worried that Deering’s minions are on my trail. He doubtless has them searching for me.”

  “His minions will be looking for a lone Miss Collyer, not the wife of a nobleman.”

  At least they looked more the part of husband and wife this morning, since Ash had retrieved her traveling dress from her saddlebags and had donned his own dry, superbly tailored garments.

  Maura did cease her pacing, but when she wouldn’t leave her window post, Ash returned to his familiar refrain. “You know, love, it is still not too late to call off this misadventure.”

  “I am not letting my horse fall into Deering’s clutches ever again.”

  “Nor will I. In fact, I have a viable solution to your dilemma. I can stable Emperor at my country estate. Neither Deering nor his minions would be able to touch him there. And you and I could return to London with no one the wiser to your theft.”

  Maura’s brow furrowed as
she considered his generous offer, but then she shook her head. “I could never be certain Emperor would be safe at Beauvoir, so close to Deering. Scotland is a much better hiding place. Besides, as I’ve told you before, I don’t want to drag you into my battles.”

  “You have not dragged me. I flung myself in willingly.”

  Before she could reply, she heard the sound of hoofbeats in the inn yard. When she peered out the window again, a sudden chill ran down her spine.

  “What is it?” Ash asked when Maura jumped back from the window to avoid being seen.

  “There are two riders down there,” she breathed hoarsely. “They could be Deering’s men.…”

  Rising, Ash came to stand beside her. “They are not Deering’s men. They are mine.”

  “Yours?” Bewildered, Maura inched closer to the window. The two sodden riders dismounted and tethered their equally sodden horses to the hitching post in front and made for the entrance door.

  “They are Bow Street Runners,” Ash explained mildly.

  She turned to stare at him in disbelief. “You kn-knew they were coming?”

  “Yes. I summoned them from London yesterday shortly after we arrived here.”

  Shock and fear ran through Maura so strongly she could scarcely breathe. “You. Summoned. Them. You summoned the law.”

  “Yes, but you needn’t worry, darling. Here, put this on.”

  Pulling a gold signet ring off his third finger, Ash slipped it onto hers. “This will aid our pretense.”

  Since the ring was far too large for her, Maura automatically curled her hand around the warm metal to keep it from sliding off, even as she stared blindly up at Ash. “How could you betray me this way?”

  “I promise I will explain later, love. For now just hold your tongue and let me handle the Runners.”

  How could she hold her tongue when she wanted to cry and rail at him? But what choice did she have?

  It was not long before a businesslike rap sounded at their chamber door. Maura stood frozen in her tracks while Ash bid entrance.

  Evidently he recognized the taller of the two wiry men who stepped into the room. “Ah, Mr. Linch, welcome. You made good time.”