Abducted by a Prince

by Olivia Drake

  Watching him ease a pillow under her foot, Ellie felt the spark of a realization. This was her chance. The chance to present her scheme to him. She could not have planned it any better, for she had wanted to make him feel beholden to her so that he would comply with her wishes.

  “Now that you mention it,” she said, “you have ruined my life. I very much doubt that I’ll be able to return home. My family isn’t likely to welcome me back considering I will have been gone for over a week in the company of a notorious scoundrel.”

  Bending over her foot, Damien went very still. He cast a furious, incredulous look at her. “Are you angling for a marriage proposal?”

  His mistaken assumption appalled Ellie. She had never anticipated him leaping to such a conclusion. When she had formulated her plan, she hadn’t known about his forced marriage. “No! Absolutely not! I only meant that you owe me reparations for abducting me.”

  “Reparations.” He gave her a hard stare. The mattress dipped as he seated himself at the foot of the bed. “Explain yourself.”

  She drew a fortifying breath, her fingers playing with the fringe on her shawl. It was time to reveal what she’d never told anyone else. “For a while now, I’ve been planning to leave my uncle’s house. That’s why I’ve been working on my storybook and hoping to sell it to a publisher. I need the income to live on my own rather than continue to stay there.”

  “Why? Is it Walt? Has he made illicit advances toward you?”

  Once again, Ellie was taken aback. Damien couldn’t possibly know that she often felt uneasy around her eldest cousin. “Well, he does stare at me … in a certain way. And…” She paused, recalling that last night in the nursery when Walt had grabbed at her bosom.

  “And?”

  “There was one time—only one—that he touched me, but I burned him with the candle I was holding and that was the end of it.”

  Damien swore savagely under his breath. A muscle worked in his jaw as if he were struggling to master his anger. “And the others in the household? Have any of them mistreated you in any way?”

  She hesitated. It felt disloyal to criticize her family. “Not really. I’ve always had a roof over my head and food on the table. When I was orphaned at fourteen, the earl was kind enough to take me in—”

  “And he proceeded to treat you as an unpaid servant. Don’t deny it, Ellie. I’m well aware of Pennington’s reputation as a skinflint, and I saw how he garbed you in old sacks. I’m guessing he made you the household drudge and never paid you tuppence for your labor.”

  Ellie bit her lip. Had her situation been so obvious? “It’s my duty to help the family. Anyway, I’ve always liked to stay busy. But I don’t wish to spend the remainder of my life doing someone else’s bidding.”

  “So tell me, how exactly have you spent your days there?”

  He was gently massaging her stockinged foot, and Ellie had to concentrate to keep her mind on the conversation. “Mostly, I’ve been governess to my two younger cousins. Now that Cedric is off at Eton, I’ve been chaperoning Beatrice, helping prepare her for her upcoming season. I also read to Lady Anne every day and do errands for the countess.”

  “Ah, yes, old Lady Pennington,” Damien said with a cynical quirk of his mouth. “I recall that gorgon presiding over society parties. She’s your grandmother, is she not?”

  “Yes, my father was the earl’s younger brother.”

  “Then by God, she ought to have provided you with a decent wardrobe as befitting your rank. Were you granted a season at least? A chance to marry?”

  She shook her head. “Actually not. You see, my father had enormous gambling debts that my uncle was forced to pay off. He said there was nothing left to pay for my come-out.”

  “That miserly snake,” Damien snapped. “Your father’s debts were not your fault, Ellie. And Pennington is a wealthy man. He has more than enough to sponsor his own niece.”

  The vehemence in his tone warmed Ellie’s heart. With a faint smile, she murmured, “You needn’t rub my foot quite so hard, you know.”

  Looking instantly remorseful, he drew back his hands. “Forgive me. I was contemplating how I’d love to wring your uncle’s neck.”

  She mustn’t feel all aglow inside when Damien had just proposed violence. Or regret that he was no longer touching her. “Well, I don’t suppose it matters anymore. I’m twenty-six now and quite content to be a spinster. Had I been given the opportunity to marry at eighteen, I might never have been inspired to compose my storybook.”

  He sat against the bedpost with one foot braced on the floor. The gleam in those green-gray eyes made her heart beat faster. “Continuing your logic,” he said, “you also wouldn’t be here right now. With me.”

  The glow settled deep in her core. It brought to mind that kiss … and the shocking pleasure of his hand stroking her bosom. Was he, too, remembering it? Ellie wouldn’t allow herself to think about that now. If she became distracted, she might lose this opportunity.

  “And I wouldn’t be in such a pickle,” she said. “But since you did bring me here against my will, it seems only fair that you should compensate me for the damage to my reputation.”

  His face sobered. “Are you certain the earl will throw you out on the street without any provision whatsoever? Is there no one in that blasted household who would care enough to help you?”

  Thinking of her family, Ellie felt a pang. She had little faith in receiving any aid from her uncle, her grandmother, Beatrice, Walt … “Lady Anne would, I’m sure. But like me, she lives there on the earl’s sufferance and has only a bit of pin money.”

  “Lady Anne?”

  “The earl’s spinster sister-in-law. She’s no blood relation to me, but she’s always been very kind and appreciative that I read to her each morning while she sews.” Ellie stared defiantly at him. “I will not ask her for funds when she has so little herself.”

  “I should hope not. Tell me, what is it you wish from me?”

  His cool masculine features provided no clue to his thoughts. He might have been a businessman negotiating a hard bargain. Yet she felt no hesitation at sharing her dream with him. “I want to live in a cottage in the country. Someplace cozy and bright, where I might gaze out upon the garden while I draw. A home where I can work alone all day without anyone handing me an overflowing basket of mending, or ordering me to write out a hundred invitations to a party.”

  He lifted a black eyebrow. “You want no one there with you? Not even a servant?”

  “No one,” she said firmly. “I am perfectly capable of doing any necessary chores myself. You see, more than anything, I crave peace and quiet so that I might concentrate on my book.”

  “And I am to provide you with this cottage.” He subjected her to a long scrutiny while she waited anxiously, her fingers twisting the fringe of her shawl. “All right, then,” he said, “I’m sure it can be arranged. I’ll direct my land agent to handle the matter upon our return to London.”

  Ellie felt as if a vast weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For so long she had been worried about the future. But she mustn’t rejoice just yet. “You’ll also provide me with a small stipend to cover my expenses for the coming year.”

  He chuckled. “Small? You need to learn lesson one in the art of negotiation—always ask for more than you really want.”

  “I won’t play games, Damien. I only need enough to purchase food and other incidentals. Until I can sell my book.”

  “And if you cannot procure a publisher? What will you do then?”

  “I’ll take in students if need be. I’ll find a way to support myself. But I do hope that won’t be necessary.” The leather-bound notebook lay beside her on the bed. Picking it up, Ellie riffled through her newest drawings, the ones she’d sketched since her dispute with him the previous afternoon. “By the way, I’ve been thinking about the suggestion you made to me yesterday…”

  He leaned forward, his gaze intent. “Ellie, you must allow me to apologize for that. I s
hould never have presumed to pass judgment on a manuscript that I haven’t even seen.”

  “You’re right, you shouldn’t have,” she said tartly. “However, I’ve decided it’s a sound proposal, after all. It’ll take quite a bit of work, but it is possible to break the story into four or five separate books—perhaps more. I’ll have the leisure to work on the revisions once I’m living on my own.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Then you do see the advantage of it?”

  “Yes. I’ll know for certain once I can review the pages I’ve already done. I left them hidden in my bedchamber at Pennington House.”

  Would Uncle Basil even allow her through the front door? Perhaps he’d already instructed the servants to refuse her admittance …

  “Hidden?” Damien asked with a frown. “So your family knows nothing about your book?”

  She shook her head. “They’d be horrified at the prospect of me selling my work to a publisher. Ladies never engage in commerce, you see. I did my drawing late in the evenings, after Beatrice went to bed. In the hustle and bustle of the day, when everyone was making demands on me, it was always my little secret, something that belonged to me alone.”

  He regarded her with frank admiration. “The true secret is that you’re a strong, accomplished woman, Ellie. I pity them for never realizing it.”

  That warm glow flared inside Ellie again. It made her skin tingle and her heartbeat quicken. Damien had awakened feelings in her that she hadn’t known existed, and it was more than just that lusty kiss. A connection had formed between them, perhaps because they’d both suffered undeserved misfortune in their childhood, he being abandoned by his birth parents, and she as an orphan forced to live with relatives who did not love her. They knew each other’s secrets now, too. She about his late wife, and he about her book.

  But he was merely a charming rogue, Ellie reminded herself, as he took the notebook from her, examined her latest drawings with interest, and proceeded to make a clever case for Prince Ratworth to be a hero rather than a villain. She couldn’t help laughing at his inventive ideas to give his likeness a larger role in the story.

  All the while, she found herself observing the economical movement of his hand as he turned the pages, the quirk of his lips whenever he told a jest, the way his expression softened sometimes when he looked at her. His every mannerism fascinated her, and the undeniable warmth she felt for him warred with her practical side.

  It would be foolish to fall prey to his allure. The Demon Prince had committed the villainous act of abducting her, bringing her here against her will. Nothing could ever come of their unexpected friendship. Once they left the castle, they would part ways. Damien would return to his London gambling den and she would move into her cottage.

  Yet the memory of that passionate kiss burned like a flame within her. In spite of all wisdom to the contrary, he had become a fire in her blood. She couldn’t abide the thought of never again feeling his lips on her mouth, or his hands on her body. And the longer they sat talking and bantering on her bed, the more she found herself daring to ponder the unthinkable.

  Chapter 16

  Ellie took great care in readying herself for dinner that evening.

  Using needle and thread, she spent the better part of an hour altering the bodice of a sapphire-blue gown to create a daringly deep décolletage that showcased her bosom. Then she sat in front of the speckled old mirror at the dressing table, combing and pinning until the artful cascade of curls finally pleased her. Lastly, she slipped her feet into the sparkly garnet slippers that Lady Milford had given to her.

  How long ago that day seemed. Yet only a little more than a week had passed since she and Beatrice had come outside after paying their call, and Ellie had spied the menacing, black-clad stranger sitting in his carriage, watching her cousin. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined that less than ten days later, she’d be waiting in the tower of a faraway castle, hoping that same man would make passionate love to her.

  No, she had done more than hope. She had set into motion a brazen scheme to lure him into her bed. A tremor of doubt and desire eddied through her. Did she truly dare to go through with it?

  A rapping sounded on the door. Her heart fluttered, although a glance at the high window confirmed the time to be twilight, about half past five so late in February. That meant the visitor could only be Mrs. MacNab. Ellie had requested an early dinner on the excuse that she was weary and wished to retire for the night as soon as darkness fell.

  She’d also sent Damien away in mid-afternoon, on the excuse that she was weary and needed a nap. Oh, and would he please be so kind as to return at six o’clock and bring pen and ink so that she could start on the final renditions of her preliminary sketches?

  Leaning on the stick that he’d fashioned for her, she made her way across the bedchamber. Her insides felt like a tightly wound spring. She truly was a brazen hussy for fibbing to both of them—and for such a wicked cause. What if Mrs. MacNab suspected from Ellie’s risqué gown the purpose she had in mind?

  Good heavens. Why, oh, why hadn’t she considered that before now? It would be mortifying if anyone else guessed how much she craved to indulge her sinful passions. She wanted it to be a secret known only to her and Damien.

  The mere thought of the Demon Prince made her knees wobbly. Ever since that ardent episode on the parapet, she had been too distracted to work on her illustrations. Instead, she had existed in a dreamlike state, reliving his kiss again and again: the forceful hunger of his lips on hers, the rasp of his whiskered jaw against her cheek, the stimulating stroke of his finger across her bare nipple. Most thrilling of all had been the moment when he had cupped her bottom and lifted her against him, and she had felt the hard pressure of his loins against hers.

  Tonight she wouldn’t react like a shocked maiden and stop him. Tonight she would tempt Damien into another fervent embrace. And when he responded like the rogue he was, and hauled her into his arms, this time she fully intended to surrender to his seduction.

  Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Ellie opened the door. Icy air rushed in from the dim-lit stairwell. But it wasn’t the maidservant who waited out on the landing.

  Damien himself stood there, gripping the handle of a large basket in one hand. He wore his greatcoat with the collar turned up, his black hair attractively mussed by the wind. One corner of his mouth was curled in a charming half-smile.

  “I thought I’d save Mrs. MacNab a trip since I was coming up here anyway,” he said in his deep baritone. “I assured her there was no reason for us both to climb those winding stairs…”

  His voice trailed off as he took in Ellie’s appearance at a glance, his gaze lingering on her cleavage. She felt a little shiver of pleasure. Was he remembering how he had put his hand inside her bodice? Despite the chill in the air, heat radiated through every part of her body. She basked in the realization that her plan to tempt him was already working. Or at least it would if she stopped gawking at him like a besotted ninny.

  She stepped back to allow him entry. “Do come in, Damien. You must forgive me for being surprised. I wasn’t expecting you just yet.”

  Those green-gray eyes subjected her to a penetrating stare. A controlled politeness replaced his smile. “I shan’t stay more than a moment,” he said. “I only wanted to deliver what you’d asked me to bring. I trust you had a good rest?”

  As he spoke, Damien carried the basket to the table by the fire. The flames danced and crackled into the silence. He opened the lid and began to unload several covered dishes. As he did so, he glanced at her inquiringly.

  Flustered by his statement that he wasn’t staying, Ellie realized that he was waiting for her to reply. “Rest? Oh, yes, of course, the nap was splendid! I’m not weary in the least. Quite the contrary.”

  “That’s odd,” he said, arranging a plate and utensils for her. “Mrs. MacNab said that you intended to retire early tonight.”

  Ellie swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “
Did she? Oh. I do recall saying something to that effect … but it must have been before my nap. I’m feeling perfectly wide awake now. I’m sure I won’t want to sleep again for hours.”

  Standing by the door, her fingers still curled around the improvised cane, she watched as Damien finished laying out her dinner. Her heart skipped a beat when he straightened up and turned toward her. There was a remote quality to his expression that she didn’t quite understand. He had not removed his coat, either, which could only mean that he’d failed to take her hint.

  She tilted her mouth in a heartfelt smile. “I should very much like for you to join me for dinner, Damien. Will you, please?”

  “There’s only one plate and one fork, so I think not.” His face somewhat somber, he stepped toward her. “I intend to have an early night myself. You’ll be pleased to hear that Finn believes the storm will have abated enough for us to depart in the morning.”

  The news jolted Ellie. Just yesterday, she’d been counting the minutes until their departure. Now, she wanted desperately to prolong their time here at the castle. However, Damien was no longer the warm, relaxed man he’d been earlier in the day, when they’d sat and chatted for hours on her bed. What had happened to make him so indifferent toward her?

  “Are you quite certain?” she asked. “Perhaps the seas will still be choppy.”

  “Finn is an excellent judge of the weather since he grew up in these parts.” Stopping directly in front of her, Damien reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and drew forth a feathered quill and a corked inkpot. “You requested these earlier,” he said, holding the items out to her. “I trust you’ll have an enjoyable evening working on your storybook.”

  Ellie couldn’t bring herself to take the implements from him. He would leave then, and that was the very last thing she wanted.

  Oh, why was he not smiling? Would he make no attempt to seduce her, despite the low-cut gown and the care she’d taken with her appearance? Had she been mistaken to believe that he’d enjoyed her company? Mistaken to conclude that he felt as attracted to her as she was to him?