Instead of smiling as she thought he would, Rudolf grew serious. He drew her into the circle of his embrace and brushed his lips against her temple, saying, “You should have had someone caring for you.”
Samantha didn’t know how to reply to that. Leaning against him, she felt secure and tried not to think about him trying to kill his own father, assuring herself his actions were defensive.
She glanced at her necklace. The star ruby remained placid. She was in no danger from him.
“Look at me, Samantha,” Rudolf said, his voice husky.
When she did, Samantha saw his handsome face inching toward hers. He was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes, but when his lips would have touched hers, her stomach protested its lack of food by growling.
“You need to eat,” Rudolf said, planting a chaste kiss on her lips. He reached into the basket on the opposite seat and offered her a chunk of brown bread with cheese.
Then he passed her a flask, adding, “We need to take one gulp of this each hour to keep warm.”
Raising the flask to her lips, Samantha took a tiny sip and felt the burning sensation from her throat to the pit of her stomach. She didn’t waste any time taking a bite of the cheese.
“You are learning,” Rudolf said.
They passed through the villages of Harrow and Cookham. Then came Henley and Marlow in the Chilterns, chalk hills rising from the north bank of the River Thames in Oxfordshire and stretching northeast for fifty miles.
Leaving the Chilterns behind, they rode through Oxford. In the distance beyond the old market town rose the forbidding walls of Oxford Castle, but the town itself was invitingly picturesque with its partly stone, partly timber-framed houses.
Northwest of Oxfordshire lay the wooded glens and serene streams of the Cotswold Hills, and Stratford-upon-Avon lay beyond that. The late afternoon sun was sinking in the west as their coach crossed the Clopton Bridge over the Avon River.
Within a few minutes, Rudolf and Samantha sat inside the Black Swan Inn. The common room was crowded, but sitting between the prince and the hearth, she felt warm and cozy and safe.
Samantha ate her beef stew in silence but flicked a sidelong glance at the prince. The light from the hearth played on his features, and she admired his noble profile from his straight nose to his sensuously chiseled lips. It made her recall the feel of his mouth covering hers.
The common room seemed suddenly warmer, and Samantha dropped her gaze to his hands with their long fingers. She wondered how those hands would feel stroking her skin.
“Why are you blushing?” Rudolf asked, turning to her.
Samantha felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as the blush deepened. “I’m not blushing.”
Her response made him smile, but she changed the subject, asking, “How long do you think we’ll need to remain in Scotland?”
Surprising her, Rudolf covered her hand with his and said, “I hope for a very long time.”
Samantha felt a melting sensation in the pit of her stomach, and her thighs seemed to have developed a slight quiver, “That is unacceptable,” she told him. “My family will be worried, and my betrothed”—her gaze skittered away—”I probably have no betrothed now.”
“I will make up for the loss of your betrothed,” Rudolf said, stroking her hand.
“How will you do that, Your Highness?” Samantha asked, looking him straight in the eye.
“I will think of something,” he said, and raised her hand to his lips. “Are you ready to retire?”
Samantha nodded.
“Allow me to escort you to your chamber, Princess.” Rudolf stood and offered her his hand.
Lifting her violin case off the floor, Samantha rose from her chair. She felt the prince’s hand on the small of her back as he guided her across the common room.
Upstairs, Rudolf opened the door of the last room on the left and immediately lit the candle on the table.
Samantha surveyed the chamber. The bed almost filled the tiny chamber, and seeing it made her feel uncomfortable. She’d always been the sensible sister, and now, here she was so far from home with a man who was more stranger than not. How had she come to this?
Tossing her cloak aside, Samantha yawned and stretched, saying, “I can’t wait to lie down.” She heard the bolt being thrown and turned around. The prince was removing his jacket.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
Rudolf gave her a puzzled look. “I am going to sleep.”
“You can’t mean to sleep here.”
“I am too tired to argue.”
“You must get another room,” Samantha told him, “or my reputation will be ruined.”
“I thought your reputation was already ruined,” he said with an amused smile.
“I’ll leave.” She turned toward the door.
“Princess, do not strain my patience,” Rudolf said, his voice stern, blocking her path. “Remove that gown and get into bed.”
Samantha stood in indecision. How could she sleep in the bed with him and not lose her virtue? Sooner or later—she glanced at the star ruby, which remained placid. Either her aunt had lied about the stone’s magical powers, or she was in no danger from the prince.
While the prince sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots, Samantha disrobed down to her chemise and set her gown aside. She glanced at the prince to see if he was watching, but he’d turned his back to her.
No sooner had Samantha climbed into the bed and pulled the coverlet up when she realized she hadn’t completed her evening ritual. Climbing out of the bed, she knelt and covered her face with her hands. She prayed silently, Thank You, Lord, for—
“What are you doing?” Rudolf asked.
Samantha spread her fingers and peeked at him. Good God, the prince had removed his shirt. What a sinfully perfect back he had, all sinewy muscle.
“What are you doing?” he asked again, this time amusement tingeing his voice.
“I am thanking God.”
“For what?”
Samantha couldn’t concentrate with the half-naked prince watching her. “For none of your business,” she told him. “Please, put your shirt on again.”
“Do not speak so disrespectfully to me,” Rudolf said. “I am a prince of Russia.”
Ignoring him, Samantha climbed into the bed and turned her back on him. How could she sleep when the prince lay beside her? And then an alarming thought occurred to her. “Do not even consider removing those breeches.”
“Princess,” he said, a smile in his voice.
“Why are you calling me that?” she asked, afraid to turn around.
“I told the innkeeper you are my wife.”
Surprised, Samantha rolled over and was even more startled to find him leaning over her. A light matting of black hair covered his muscular chest.
“Your chest is bare,” she said, and then realized how idiotic she sounded.
Rudolf gave her a wicked smile. “Why do you not follow my example?”
Embarrassment flamed on her cheeks. And that was before the prince leaned closer.
“I am teasing you,” he said, almost nose-to-nose with her.
Samantha gave him a wobbly smile. She expected him to move away. He stared down at her for a long moment, and she became mesmerized by the intensity of his dark gaze.
“Pleasant dreams, Princess,” Rudolf said in a husky voice. He brushed a few recalcitrant ebony wisps away from her face, whispering, “A sweet good night kiss.”
Rudolf lowered his head until his lips touched hers in a chaste kiss. His gentleness seduced her. Teasingly, his tongue stroked the crease between her lips, and when she opened her mouth in response, he slipped his tongue inside, changing the tempo of their kiss.
Samantha pressed the palms of her hands against his chest. Instead of pushing him away, she slid her hands up his chest, enjoying the rippling of his muscles beneath her touch, and then she entwined her arms around his neck. The sensation of his bared chest against her scantily c
lad body excited her.
Sanity slammed into her consciousness when the prince broke their kiss. “Good night, Princess.”
Shocked by her easy responses to his advances, Samantha rolled over and turned her back on him. Her newly awakened body and her rioting emotions confused her. How could she have behaved so wantonly? Did her actions mean she’d fallen in love with the prince? If he hadn’t been such a gentleman . . . how was he capable of such restraint? More importantly, what did his actions mean? Was he developing a fondness for her or was she merely a convenience?
Samantha closed her eyes. Part of her felt ashamed of her behavior, but the other part wanted more. And then she remembered God.
You probably aren’t too pleased with me, Samantha prayed silently. I want to thank You for allowing me another kiss. I would be especially grateful if You could somehow contrive to save my—reputation or virginity?
A drowsy smile touched her lips when she made her decision. If you could contrive to save my reputation.
* * *
Samantha awakened early the next morning. For a moment she felt disoriented but then realized where she was and with whom. Even worse, during the night, she had somehow gravitated toward the warmth of his body.
Lying on her side with her cheek resting against his chest, Samantha felt his arm around her back, holding her close against his body. In her sleep, she’d thrown her leg across his lower body and woven it between his legs. She could feel his erection against the side of her leg. Opening her eyes, she saw that her chemise straps had slipped, leaving one of her breasts exposed.
The prince still slept. Should she pull the chemise up or wait until he moved? She didn’t want to awaken him while she was wrapped around his body.
Samantha lay still, wondering what to do. She shifted her gaze from her naked breast to his well-muscled chest with its matting of hair.
Wanting to see his face, Samantha moved her head slightly as if in sleep. She raised her gaze to his throat, his strong chin, his chiseled lips, his straight nose . . . his black gaze.
The prince hadn’t been sleeping at all. While she’d been perusing his body, he’d been perusing hers.
Her gaze captive to his, Samantha sensed his hand moving closer to her bared breast. She sucked in her breath when she felt his hand slide across her breast, cupping it in his hand. He kneaded her soft flesh and then glided his finger across her nipple, which hardened with her arousal.
The intensity in his gaze and his finger caressing her nipple made Samantha feel weak. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and a melting sensation ignited a fire between her thighs.
“Your breasts are beautiful, Princess, and your nipples are exquisitely sensitive,” Rudolf said, drawing the chemise’s bodice up to cover her.
And what should she reply to that? Thank you seemed out of place, though she did believe he was complimenting her.
“Krusseevy,” Rudolf murmured, “Krusseevy means beautiful.”
* * *
Life became one long coach ride.
Karl turned their coach northeast, and they rode through Coventry, an ancient cathedral city with defensive walls. Exhaustion blinded Samantha to Leicestershire’s stark beauty of ancient gnarled trees and stone villages.
Staring out the window at the passing scenery, Samantha smiled at her own foolishness. Growing up, she’d always wished for a ride with a handsome prince in his grand coach. He would be her knight, her champion, and silence the taunts of the neighboring children. She should have been more careful what she wished for.
“Why are you smiling?”
Samantha turned her head to look at the prince. His handsomely chiseled face tugged at her heartstrings. If only things could have been different
“I was thinking that, as a child, I always wanted to ride in a grand coach,” she answered.
Rudolf smiled. “And now your wish has been granted.”
The coach went over a bump, throwing her against him. “Yes, the Lord usually finds a way to torment us with what we want.”
“Would you like to learn a few Russian words?” Rudolf asked, obviously trying to entertain her.
“Not really.”
“Glaza means eyes,” Rudolf said as if she hadn’t spoken. “Repeat, please.”
Samantha sighed. “Glaza.”
Rudolf pointed to her nose. “Nos means nose.”
“Nos.”
“Gooba means lip,” he told her.
“Gooba.”
“Your pronunciation is excellent,” Rudolf praised her. “Now, tell me what I am pointing at.”
“Glaza . . . nos . . . gooba.”
Beneath the fur coverlet, Rudolf put his arm around her and drew her against the side of his body. Gazing into her eyes, he said, “Ya khuchoo stubboy spart.”
“What does that mean?” Samantha asked with a smile. “Was it a compliment?”
With his face merely inches from hers, Rudolf told her, “Ya khuchoo stubboy spart means I want to make love with you.”
Samantha lost her smile. The prince was becoming entirely too familiar with his words and her person. She wasn’t going to tumble into bed with a man who offered no future.
Rudolf gave her an amused smile as if he knew her thoughts. “You must say utstan.”
Samantha arched an ebony brow at him. She wasn’t going to repeat any words she didn’t know.
“Utstan means take your hands off me.”
Samantha laughed.
Wearing an expression of regret, Rudolf touched her cheek. “Ya tibya lyublyoo.”
“What does that mean?”
“Teach me how to pick a pocket,” he said, changing the subject abruptly.
Samantha reached for his hand and lifted it up for her perusal. She studied his long, tapered fingers and pressed the palm of her hand against his as if to measure the difference in size. “Your hands are too big.”
“But how would I do it if I wanted?” he asked.
Samantha gave him a flirtatious smile as an imp entered her soul. She entwined her left arm around his neck and pulled his face closer.
“Successful pickpocketing takes years of practice,” she said, her lips a hairsbreadth from his. “A distraction diverts the pigeon’s attention while you quickly search his pockets.”
With that, Samantha pressed her lips against his. She felt his arms go around her and savored the feeling of his mouth covering hers. His lips were warm, and when he caressed the crease of her mouth with his tongue, she parted her lips for him, allowing him entrance to the sweet softness beyond. His lingering kiss melted into another. And then another.
Summoning all her inner strength, Samantha pushed him away and dangled his gold watch in front of his face, asking, “Do you see what I mean?”
Rudolf shouted with laughter. “Do you usually go around London kissing men?”
“Certainly not,” Samantha said primly. “Because of my limp, I usually trip and bump into a gentleman who, naturally, reaches out to keep me from falling.”
With one long finger, Rudolf tapped the tip of her nose playfully, asking, “Where did you learn to charm a prince?”
Samantha blushed. “Perhaps some people are easily charmed, Your Highness.”
They passed through Derbyshire, a midland county of contrasts from low land to high peaks. Samantha yearned to stop in the market town of Derby, known for its silk and lace. She had only the one gown and couldn’t wear it for the rest of her life.
Leaving Derby behind without stopping, they rode into Yorkshire. With an austere beauty, the landscape wore many faces from stone-fenced farms to windswept moors to deep, secluded valleys. Nine miles west of Leeds lay Bradford in a small valley on the eastern slopes of the Pennines.
Passing the Church of St. Peter, Karl halted the coach in front of the Boar’s Head Inn. Prince Rudolf climbed out first and then led her into the inn’s common room. Within minutes, Samantha and the prince sat close to the hearth’s warmth and ate roasted beef, Yorkshire pudding, and horser
adish sauce.
Samantha saw Karl enter the common room and scan the tables. Seeing them near the hearth, the prince’s man approached their table.
“Your Highness, we will make Carlisle by early afternoon tomorrow,” Karl said. “Dumfries is a half day’s ride from there.”
Prince Rudolf nodded. “Take your supper now.”
“Would you care to join us?” Samantha asked.
“No, thank you, my lady.” Karl looked scandalized by her suggestion.
“He needs to feed his sturgeon,” the prince said.
“Where do you keep this sturgeon?” Samantha asked.
Karl looked at the prince and then, wearing a serious expression, answered, “I keep it in a warm place.” At that the prince’s man turned away and crossed the common room to a table near the bar.
Samantha flicked a glance at the prince, who was grinning. “What do you find so amusing?”
Rudolf leaned close. “You are the most charming woman I have ever met, like a breath of fresh air in a smoky room.”
“Thank you, I think,” she said, giving him a puzzled smile.
“Tell me more about this feud between the Douglases and the Emersons.”
“The feud has been settled,” Samantha told him, “or it would have been settled if I had become betrothed to Alexander.”
Rudolf frowned at the mention of Alexander Emerson. “Tell me about it.”
“When I was a child, Charles Emerson swindled my father out of most of the Douglas fortune,” Samantha said. “My father lost the remainder when he tried to recoup his losses by gambling. We were forced to leave the mansion in Grosvenor Square, and I suffered the accident that left me with a limp on our last day there.”
“Charles Emerson ran over you with his carriage.”
Samantha nodded. “My father’s best friend, the Duke of Inverary, would have helped but was in Scotland at the time.”
Rudolf cocked a brow at her. “What about when His Grace returned from Scotland?”
“My father was too proud to ask for help,” Samantha answered, “and the duke couldn’t find us. For ten years, my sisters and I plotted revenge against Emerson, especially after my father became sick with drink.”
To Charm a Prince Page 6
