Princess Charming

by Nicole Jordan

  “Ash … you don’t have to fight Deering with me. You can still withdraw your offer.”

  His own gaze narrowed on her. “Not a chance, love. I am not abandoning you now that I’ve gone to all this trouble to save you from yourself. Besides, I desperately want the challenge. My life was becoming far too dull.”

  “Well, then … if you are sure. But I won’t hold you to a betrothal. We will end our engagement at the earliest opportunity. I won’t have it said that I trapped you into marriage.”

  “There is that prickly pride again,” Ash said with a taunting smile.

  Maura answered him with much more seriousness. “Perhaps it is my pride, but I also don’t wish to act the hypocrite. It has always galled me that my stepmother manipulated my father into marriage because she wanted security and wealth. I refuse to be anything like Priscilla, marrying only for material gain. And I don’t care to marry you, in any case.”

  His mouth curved. “I know—I don’t need reminding that you are fiercely independent.”

  Maura pursed her lips thoughtfully. “It is not only independence I want,” she said with complete honesty. “Only true love would ever induce me to marry. And from what you have said, you feel the same way. You expect to find a grand passion in marriage, and I gravely doubt that I am your grand passion, any more than I am your ideal princess.”

  At his contemplative silence, she searched his face. He clearly had his own doubts as well, she could tell.

  But she faced the greater danger, Maura realized. After all, what did a rake like Ashton Wilde know about true love, despite his family legacy? She didn’t dare let herself succumb to him, for she knew he could break her heart.

  Finally he cleared his throat. “Perhaps we are not fated to fall in love, but meanwhile … I will settle for passion. I want you, sweet Maura.” His hand reached up to stroke her cheek. “You want me, too, admit it.”

  Of course she wanted him. His merest touch stirred something deep inside her. Yet her yearning for him was more than sheer physical desire.

  Maura drew a deep breath, striving for willpower. Then his hand suddenly fell away, making her feel sharp disappointment in addition to relief.

  “Perhaps kissing you is unwise,” Ash murmured, “since it will prove too much temptation. Therefore, I will just hold you.”

  He drew her close while waging a struggle for willpower similar to Maura’s. When she gingerly laid her head on his shoulder, Ash deliberated how to deal with his growing feelings of tenderness for her.

  He knew he had to tread carefully. If he wasn’t sincere about wooing and wedding Maura, he could cause her grave hurt, for she was far more vulnerable than she liked to pretend.

  Alternately, he could be in peril himself if he came to love her and failed to win her love in return.

  Frowning, he pressed a light kiss against Maura’s temple. How had this fair-haired hellion accomplished something that no other woman had ever done: Make him seriously contemplate matrimony, and even worse, matters of love?

  Until now he’d always viewed the question of love with a healthy wariness. Although he bore a fierce love for his closest family members, he’d maintained a deliberate emotional distance from outsiders. Oh, indisputably he was as lusty and passionate as all his Wilde relations, possibly more so. But to this point all his love affairs had been shallow and superficial and had never once come close to touching his heart.

  In truth, he’d sometimes wondered if he was even capable of feeling the kind of romantic love that usually afflicted his clan.

  It was a profoundly alluring fantasy, though—fulfilling the primal desire to find his perfect mate. Finding the one special woman who was his equal. Who belonged with him and to him. Who completed him and made him half of a contented whole.

  Yet for his own self-protection, he’d never subscribed to the principal Wilde doctrine that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. After the grief of losing his parents, he had never wanted to risk that terrible pain, not even for the priceless prize of experiencing a grand, lifelong passion.

  He would be a sad fool, however, to let his perfect match slip through his fingers for fear that he might suffer an unrequited love.

  The simple fact was, whether or not their betrothal ended in marriage and a passionate, timeless love, just now Ash very much wanted to be Maura’s hero and prince. And granting her wish to vindicate her father’s honor was his best chance to prove himself her prince.

  The Beaufort coach and grooms arrived in good time, so that by early afternoon, Maura was standing in the inn yard saying farewell to her stallion.

  She felt anxious for Emperor, even though she knew he would have the best of care from Ash’s trusted stablehands and with two armed Bow Street Runners to act as escorts to his new home in Kent.

  “And at least you can be properly groomed again, my handsome fellow,” Maura murmured as the horse nosed her palm, searching for treats.

  She fed Emperor the fat carrot she’d obtained from the inn’s kitchen and stroked his face and ears while she waited for Ash to finish speaking to his grooms. When he was done she added her own instructions for Emperor’s care.

  Finally Ash gestured toward his waiting carriage. “We had best be on our way. It will be late when we arrive in London as it is.”

  “I hope we are doing the right thing,” Maura said, her doubt and worry rising up again.

  “We are,” Ash assured her.

  When he reached up to brush her cheek with his knuckles, Emperor pushed between them and butted his shoulder. Maura softly scolded the horse for his poor manners and apologized to Ash. “He knows better. He is just being protective of me.”

  “You may tell him that I will take good care of you,” Ash promised before handing her into his well-sprung carriage.

  They traveled all day, and when night fell, he pulled Maura into his arms and cut off her protests. “This is another advantage of a betrothal—it allows us more freedom when we are together. Now, go to sleep.”

  She slept soundly in his arms until he murmured in her ear, “Wake up, princess. We are here.”

  Maura stirred awake, only to realize that she was draped all over him.

  “What is the time?” she asked as she untangled herself and sat up.

  “Just after ten o’clock.”

  Self-consciously, she smoothed the straggling wisps of her hair, which she’d pulled back in a tight chignon, and straightened her cloak as she peered out into the dark night.

  The coach had drawn to a halt in front of Priscilla’s house. There were lights shining from several of the first-floor windows, but none in the upper floors, suggesting that her stepsisters were asleep, but that her stepmother was still up.

  With Ash’s assistance, Maura alighted from the coach. As he escorted her up the steps to the front door, she took a deep breath, bracing for a confrontation, and no sooner had she let herself into the house than Priscilla came charging into the entry hall.

  Maura knew Ash had followed her inside, but Pris must not have seen him, for she immediately launched into an impassioned lecture.

  “How could you, Maura? I implored you to think of your stepsisters, but you blatantly disregarded all my pleas!”

  “What pleas are those, Priscilla?” Maura managed to ask calmly.

  She heard Ash shut the front door behind him, but her stepmother was still too upset to notice that they had an audience.

  “You know perfectly well what pleas! I begged you not to make an enemy of Lord Deering, but you went and stole his property from under his very nose!”

  Striving for patience, Maura forced a grim smile. “And you know that Emperor is my property, not Deering’s.”

  “Not since the sale over three weeks ago—and now you have not only gravely offended his lordship, you have aroused his wrath at me!”

  The hypocrisy of her complaint incensed Maura, since Priscilla had escalated the conflict by selling Emperor in the first place. But
apparently she considered herself the victim, as evidenced by her next words:

  “Deering blames me for failing to control you, you infuriating girl, as if I ever could! And now he intends to punish us all for your transgressions.”

  Her anger and bitterness were genuine, but so was her distress. She was near tears, Maura realized. It took her aback to see Priscilla distraught enough to shed tears. To her knowledge, her stepmother rarely cried. The last time was when her husband—Maura’s father—had died.

  “What do you mean, ‘punish us’?” Maura asked skeptically.

  “He threatened Hannah and Lucy with complete ruination, and it is all your fault!” That last accusation was issued in a quavering voice that was almost a sob.

  Dismay speared through Maura. At least now she understood the reason behind the tears, for Priscilla truly did love her daughters.

  “What does Deering plan to do?” she breathed.

  “What do you care? You are the most selfish creature alive.” Gulping in a steadying breath, Priscilla raised herself up to her full height. “I’ll thank you to leave my house at once, Maura. I cannot afford to have Lord Deering for an enemy.”

  Maura stiffened instinctively. “May I remind you that this has been my home far longer than it has been yours?”

  “That cannot matter to me. I have to protect my daughters.”

  Maura opened her mouth to argue but shut it again, since she deeply sympathized with Priscilla’s desire to shield Hannah and Lucy from the viscount’s intrigues.

  Before she could decide how to respond, Ash stepped forward and spoke for the first time. “You should also give a thought, madam, to protecting your stepdaughter.”

  Priscilla gave a start upon noticing the tall nobleman. “Lord B-Beaufort …” she stammered. “I … forgive me, I did not see you there.”

  “Obviously.” He returned a chill smile as he moved to stand beside Maura. “And clearly you are not aware that you are addressing my future wife.”

  “Your wife!”

  “Yes indeed. Miss Collyer has made me the happiest of men by consenting to give me her hand in marriage. We came to tell you the glad tidings ourselves, but I can see you have no interest in wishing us well.”

  As Priscilla stared, her mouth gaped open for a dozen seconds, and eventually Ash broke the silence. “If you wish to speak to her once you are in a more remorseful frame of mind, Miss Collyer will be staying at my home in Grosvenor Square with my sister and uncle.”

  Her shock was evident in the way her previous fury dissolved into sputtering confusion. “My lord … You cannot mean that you intend to marry her? When she has behaved like a common thief?”

  Ash’s expression became amused. “You are sadly mistaken on both counts, Mrs. Collyer. In the first place, Maura is extremely uncommon.…” He sent Maura a loving look. “And in the second, I took the horse myself. Emperor is now my property, in my possession.”

  Leaving his declaration at that, he took Maura’s elbow. “Come, my sweet. Your stepmother knows where to find you once she is prepared to offer you an apology.”

  Turning away, he shepherded Maura out the door and into his waiting coach, where she sank against the leather squabs with a growl of mingled frustration and dismay.

  “I should have expected something like this from Deering,” she muttered as the vehicle began moving. “It is just like that dastardly man to take his wrath out on two innocent girls.”

  “I promise you, they will come to no harm,” Ash said consolingly.

  “He is not one to make idle threats,” Maura fretted.

  “Nor am I. We will deal with Deering and make him regret that he ever dared tangle with your family.”

  His solemn reassurance made her feel marginally better, but then she recalled Ash’s stated destination. “I should find lodgings somewhere … perhaps a hotel.”

  “There is no need. You don’t want to live in a hotel alone, certainly not when my home is open to you.” When Maura frowned, Ash added more firmly, “It’s perfectly acceptable for you to reside with me, since mine isn’t a bachelor establishment. My sister is your close friend, and my Uncle Cornelius is a pattern card of respectability—at least compared to the rest of our family. And if you wish, I will write at once to my aunt, Lady Isabella Wilde, and ask her to come to London to act as your chaperone. Aunt Isabella married into my father’s side of the family and is now widowed.”

  “I could never ask you to go to such lengths—” Maura began.

  “Don’t be daft. Your staying with us will make the pretense of our betrothal more believable.”

  “Perhaps, but I have already taken excessive advantage of your generosity.”

  Ash just smiled that knowing smile of his. “I see your chin locked in that stubborn position of pride again. But there is no need for pride. You know Katharine would go to any lengths for you, and so would the rest of my family. We will all present a united front against Deering.”

  It was undeniable how comforting his declaration was, Maura realized. For even though she knew her feelings of abandonment were absurd, she felt quite alone since she no longer had a place in London to call home.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  At her abrupt surrender, his expression turned dubious, as if he expected more arguments from her. But Maura knew he was right. As an unmarried lady, even one who was almost a spinster, she would only benefit from the connection with his noble family. And if she temporarily went to live with Ash and Katharine, it would indeed support their sham betrothal.

  Evidently Ash accepted her capitulation as genuine, for he said, “Come here,” and drew her against him.

  Held in the light, protective circle of his arms, Maura had the overwhelming sense that she was safe. She cherished that feeling—which was possibly why she felt the need to voice a token protest. “You don’t need to cosset me, you know, Ash. I am not entirely a weakling.”

  He chuckled at that. “No, that you are not. In fact, you are one of the strongest women I know, and that includes my own family. After everything you have endured, you are still fighting and spitting fire.”

  It was true that she had grown stronger with adversity, Maura agreed silently, but all the same, she was profoundly glad to know that Ash was on her side and that she wasn’t alone.

  * * *

  Katharine, too, was clearly on her side. When they arrived at Grosvenor Square, Katharine had just retired for bed, but came racing downstairs in her dressing gown.

  She immediately threw her arms around Maura while scolding her at the same time. “I cannot believe you set out for Scotland all on your own, you darling idiot! You know I would have helped you get your horse back. You gave me such a fright, I could gladly strangle you.”

  Maura couldn’t help but smile when Kate included Ash in her diatribe. “And you, brother dear … how dare you send me that cryptic note telling me nothing and ordering me to send your coach and grooms—But what the devil have you both been up to? I have been dying with curiosity.”

  When Ash hesitated to answer in the hearing of his servants—his butler and two footmen who were standing by to take their outer garments—Katharine pulled him and Maura away from the vast entry hall, into the nearest parlor for privacy. There they gave her an abbreviated version of events, including the theft of the stallion, their subsequent travels, and the storm that had abruptly ended their journey.

  When her brother announced their temporary betrothal, Katharine’s beautiful face lit up, and she embraced him with delighted exuberance. “Oh, your legend is coming true, Ash, just as I hoped!”

  “Not so quickly,” Maura hastened to say. “The engagement isn’t real.”

  “What do you mean? How can it not be real?”

  Maura left it to Ash to explain that she would stay with them for a short time while they made plans to take on Deering. He truncated the discussion by saying, “We will tell you all about it in the morning, Kate, but for now I am starving.” Ash directed h
is gaze at Maura. “Are you hungry as well?”

  Surprisingly, she was. “Yes.”

  “Then why don’t you go upstairs to freshen up and meet me in the kitchens in a quarter of an hour? I’ll raid the pantry and rummage us up something to eat. No need to wake the servants.”

  “I will show you to your rooms,” Katharine volunteered.

  Maura expected to be grilled further, but astonishingly, her friend did only as promised, escorting her upstairs to a luxurious bedchamber in the guest wing of the enormous house in order to wash and freshen up.

  Kate left for a few minutes and returned with a nightdress and dressing gown, then announced that she was going back to bed. “I want to give you and Ash ample time to be alone together. It’s clear that he has become your prince, or your knight in shining armor, or whatever you care to call it. But courtship can be a fragile thing, and it is utterly remarkable in my brother’s case. I don’t want to jinx it by being underfoot.”

  Her shameless attempt at matchmaking made Maura roll her eyes in exasperation, and when she threatened to throw her pillow at her friend, Kate left laughing.

  Maura’s humor had faded a little by the time she went downstairs, no doubt because she was beset by weariness and worry. When she reached the kitchens, she discovered it bustling with activity. Evidently, Lord Beaufort’s chef had refused to let him fend for himself and roused several sleepy servants from their beds in order to prepare an impromptu supper.

  Upon learning that his lordship was in his study, Maura made her way there and found Ash waiting for her. The hearth fire had been built into a cheery blaze and a side table was covered with enough dishes to make a feast, including half a roasted chicken.

  Ash dismissed the two footmen, then heaped her plate high and his own higher. Leading Maura to an overstuffed leather couch, he settled beside her with a contented sigh.

  “Damn, but I have missed the comforts of home after you forced me to billet in half the barns and backwoods from here to Oxford. No, I don’t want to hear your excuses again,” he interjected when Maura would have defended herself. “Hold your tongue for now, love, and eat your supper like a good little thief.”