To Charm a Prince

by Grasso, Patricia;

  “How could three young ladies possibly get revenge?” the prince asked.

  “My older sister is an expert cheat at dice and cards,” she told him, “but we couldn’t contrive to get into the gambling hells.”

  “So, how did you and your sisters get revenge?”

  “By chance, Angelica met Robert Campbell at a fair but didn’t know he was the duke’s son,” Samantha answered. “When my father passed away, Aunt Roxie sent His Grace a note, and he invited us to live with him. Robert promised to get revenge for us. Before that could happen, Venetia Emerson Campbell—Robert’s widowed sister-in-law and Alexander’s sister—tried to kill Angelica. Apparently, Venetia had wanted to be the Duchess of Inverary and had killed her younger sister, Robert’s late wife.

  “In an attempt to avoid a scandal, His Grace suggested Venetia and her father be transported to Australia. That left Alexander with the Earl of Winchester title and the family fortune.”

  “Why was Alexander spared?” the prince asked.

  “Alexander was completely innocent,” she answered. “In fact, Emerson had been trying to have him assassinated—”

  “Emerson wanted to kill his own son?” Rudolf interrupted, his expression mirroring his surprise.

  “Yes, but I don’t know the reason,” Samantha told him. “Anyway, Alexander wanted to make amends by marrying me. The Douglas lands and fortune would have been returned to us, albeit indirectly through our marriage.”

  “Were you the family sacrifice?” Rudolf asked.

  “What a horrible thing to say.”

  “You do not love him.”

  “I respect him.” Samantha blushed, adding, “Ladies who limp aren’t exactly the height of fashion.”

  Rudolf covered her hand with his. “Princess, your limp is of no importance.”

  “It is important to me,” Samantha said. “Tell me why your father prefers Vladimir.”

  The prince’s whole demeanor changed. The smile in his eyes died, replaced by anger and something else. Was it pain she saw? Of course he would be angered by his father imprisoning his mother and hurt by his father’s lack of love. Why would any man do that to the woman he loved? Why would a father reject his oldest son in favor of the second?

  Unable to bear the angry pain etched across his face, Samantha wished she hadn’t asked about his father. She dropped her gaze to her plate.

  “Let us retire for the night,” Rudolf said, standing and offering her his hand.

  Entering their bedchamber, Samantha removed her cloak and tossed it aside. Then she undressed down to her chemise. Protesting his presence would do no good.

  Samantha knelt beside the bed and covered her face with her hands. Silently, she prayed, Thank You, Lord, for allowing us to get this far—

  “Samantha?”

  Spreading her fingers, she peered at the prince, who sat on the opposite side of the bed to remove his boots. She felt a familiar melting sensation in the pit of her stomach at the sight of his bared chest.

  “I apologize for my curtness,” Rudolf said. “However, I do not wish to speak about my father. Please do not ask about him again.”

  The prince was a man unused to apologizing, but he was making a good attempt. “I will respect your wishes,” she said.

  The prince nodded and seemed to relax.

  Thank You, Lord, for the prince’s apology. Samantha climbed into bed and pulled the coverlet up.

  Rudolf climbed into bed beside her. Without asking permission, he drew her against his body, saying, “Come up here, Princess.”

  Samantha leaned over him and stared into his black eyes. She studied his face, admiring how the flickering candlelight played across his features.

  “Kiss me good night, Princess.”

  Samantha smiled and lowered her head until her mouth hovered above his. Her lips touched his, tentatively at first, and then grew bolder, deepening the kiss.

  She flicked her tongue across the crease between his lips, as he had done to her and heard with satisfaction his sharp intake of breath. When he opened his mouth, she slipped her tongue inside, their tongues swirling and caressing.

  Rudolf entwined his arms around her body and held her firmly, gently. Without warning, he rolled over, and she lay beneath him. He kissed her lingeringly, not giving her a chance to think or protest, planting feathery light kisses on her eyelids, temples, nose, and throat.

  “I want to touch you,” Rudolf whispered. “Only touch.”

  He didn’t wait for permission.

  Rudolf kissed her again, his tongue seeking and gaining entrance to her mouth. His hand lightly caressed her cheek and then drifted down to her throat before crossing to her delicately boned shoulder. He ran his hand down the outside of her arm and then raced two fingers up the sensitive inside.

  A languorous feeling slowly seeped through Samantha’s veins, and she yearned for him to touch and caress every inch of her virgin flesh. Her young body moaned instinctively, pressing into his hand wherever it roamed.

  Rudolf moved his hand down her chemise-clad body, and Samantha moaned softly as he teased her by sliding his hand across her breasts without stopping. Lower, his hand moved, caressing the softness of her belly and then tracing the curve of her hip before gliding down and then up the inside of her leg.

  “Krusseevy,” the prince murmured, his lips hovering above hers.

  He kissed her deeply, passionately, and then drew the straps of her chemise down. Ever so slowly, he slid her bodice down, freeing her breasts to his dark, intense gaze. She opened her eyes. His gaze locked on hers and held it captive while he cupped her breast and then kneaded it gently.

  Samantha pressed herself against his hand—wanting, needing his touch. His fingers stroked the soft flesh, and then he brushed the palms of his hands across her nipples. Closing his thumb and forefinger around one nipple, he squeezed it into arousal.

  Samantha thought she would die from the pleasure, and then she felt his mouth on her breasts. She moaned as he locked on a nipple, suckling upon her, and she arched herself toward him, wanting . . . wanting . . . she didn’t know what.

  With a groan, the prince moved to one side. She opened her eyes. He was staring down at her, a look of yearning on his face.

  “Sleep now,” Rudolf said, pulling the bodice of her chemise up. He lay back on the bed and gathered her into his arms. “We have another long ride tomorrow.”

  Samantha moaned, more from embarrassment than the thought of another day in the coach, and buried her face against his chest. And then another, more alarming, thought occurred to her. How would she face him in the morning after her wanton behavior tonight? She would pretend it never happened and demand separate chambers tomorrow night.

  Chapter 4

  “Rudolf?”

  “Yes, Princess?”

  Cuddled beneath the fur in the coach the next morning, Samantha felt battle ready but refused to look at the prince lest she lose her courage. She kept her gaze riveted on the passing scenery—barren trees and snow-covered fields.

  “I want my own bedchamber tonight.”

  Silence greeted her announcement.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked, turning to look at him, unable to bear the suspense. “I want my—”

  “Nyet.” Rudolf gave her a stern look. “Nyet means no.”

  “I insist.”

  “Duty demands that I protect you,” Rudolf said, “which I cannot do if you are sleeping in another chamber.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Samantha protested. “I do wear a dagger strapped to my leg.”

  Without a word, Rudolf leaned forward and lifted the bottom edge of the fur coverlet. Then he flipped her skirt up and removed the dagger from the sheath strapped to her leg.

  “Give me that,” Samantha demanded.

  Rudolf tossed the dagger out the window and gave her an infuriating smile. “Now you do not wear a dagger strapped to your leg.”

  “That was my lucky dagger,” she cried.

&nb
sp; Rudolf burst out laughing. “Your lucky dagger?”

  His laughter didn’t sit well with Samantha. “How dare you steal my property,” she said, narrowing her blue gaze on him. “You may be a prince of Russia, but this is England where you are nobody.”

  “Guard your words,” he warned.

  “Or what?” Samantha challenged him. “Will you abduct me and take me to Scotland?”

  “I did not abduct you,” Rudolf informed her. “I merely assumed responsibility for your protection.”

  “Who is protecting me from you?”

  “I will debate the point no more,” he said, his voice stern, fixing his black gaze on hers.

  “You are an autocratic toad,” Samantha said, turning her head to stare out the coach’s window. “You need not have taken me with you. His Grace could have protected me.”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” the prince drawled.

  Samantha snapped her head around to look at him. “And now?”

  “And now I am not so sure.”

  “You ruined my life for a royal whim,” Samantha accused him.

  “I rescued you from an unhappy marriage,” Rudolf told her.

  “Did I ask you to rescue me?” Samantha shot back.

  “You have condemned me to an unhappy, childless spinsterhood.”

  “Alone is a much better choice than being married to a spouse who doesn’t love you,” Rudolf said.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Samantha reminded him. “You chose for me. No man will love or marry me now.”

  “Do not be dramatic.”

  “I am being realistic,” she corrected him. “Are you offering marriage?”

  In the blink of an eye, Prince Rudolf shuttered his expression, a gesture reminding her of the Duke of Inverary and her brother-in-law, the Marquess of Argyll. “I cannot offer you marriage at the moment.”

  “Cannot or will not?’

  “What difference does that make?”

  Samantha held his gaze for a long moment and then gave him a look filled with contempt. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last bachelor in England,” she said in a scathing voice. “By the way, refrain from referring to me as your wife. Doing so in Scotland would, in fact, make me your common-law wife.”

  “Thank you for the warning,” Rudolf said, returning the contempt.

  The tone of his voice hurt Samantha as much as his words. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she turned her head to look out the window and fought them back. She wondered at his ability to hurt her so easily and reduce her to tears. After all, as a child, she’d had much practice in guarding herself against people knowing her pain. If she hadn’t, the other children would have done worse to her, much worse.

  * * *

  Good Christ, Rudolf thought. Now I’ve made her cry. He need not have been so cruel and hadn’t meant to imply that he found her unattractive. On the contrary, he found her too desirable and needed to save himself from any complicating entanglements. The last thing he needed was to fall in love. And yet, why had he forced her into hiding with him? She was correct. His Grace could have protected her. After losing Olga, he had vowed never to marry again.

  Rudolf reached for her hand beneath the fur coverlet. Without bothering to look at him, Samantha tried to free her hand, but he refused to let go.

  “I promise not to make any more advances,” Rudolf said, close to her ear. “Please, understand. Losing Olga was too painful. I cannot allow myself to lose another woman.”

  “Give Vladimir the Kazanov Venus,” Samantha said dryly. “You have no need for a fertility charm.”

  Rudolf chuckled. Though Samantha still looked out the window, he sensed her relax. Apparently, the storm had passed.

  “We will reach Carlisle early enough to go shopping,” Rudolf said, hoping to regain her favor.

  “Shopping for what?” she asked.

  “Karl packed my belongings,” Rudolf told her, “but you cannot wear the same gown indefinitely.”

  “Don’t bother yourself about me,” Samantha said. “I don’t have any money.”

  “I have more than enough money and would be honored to purchase you a few gowns,” Rudolf told her.

  “Honored?” she echoed, arching an ebony brow at him. “I accept your offer but will repay you when we return to London.”

  “That will be unnecessary.”

  “Ah, but I insist,” Samantha said, giving him a sweet smile. “You may also purchase me another dagger.”

  “I will consider it.”

  Situated on the River Eden, Carlisle lay a mere nine miles south of the Scottish border. They reached the market town shortly after noon and stopped on High Street where the shops were located.

  After sending Karl ahead to procure accommodations at the Royal Rooster Inn, Rudolf slipped Samantha’s arm through his and led her down the street in the direction of Madame Andrews’ Dress Shop, the most exclusive shop in Carlisle. Or so they’d been told.

  “May I be of service, sir?” a middle-aged woman asked when they entered, looking down the long length of her nose at their rumpled appearances.

  “I think we should leave,” Samantha whispered.

  Rudolf ignored her. Instead, he gave the woman his most charming smile and said, “Your Highness.”

  The woman looked confused. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I am Prince Rudolf Kazanov, and this is my bride”—he paused to lift Samantha’s hand to his lips—“Her Highness, Princess Samantha.”

  The woman looked from one to the other. She wore the most skeptical expression Rudolf had ever seen.

  “Excuse our appearance,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a wad of bills to hand the woman. “We have traveled north with few belongings, which is why we are visiting your shop.”

  “I am honored, Your Highness,” the woman said, her gaze on the money. “I am Madame Andrews.”

  “My bride and I leave for Scotland in the morning,” Rudolf told the woman, returning her smile. “Ready-made gowns will suffice if you can complete the alterations by tomorrow morning.”

  “It can be done,” Madame Andrews told him. She turned to Samantha, saying, “Please follow me, Your Highness. I will need to take your measurements.”

  Samantha nodded and then cast Rudolf a warning look. He grinned at her discomfort and followed them into the backroom. After all, what could she do? Complain that her husband was watching her disrobe?

  The fitting room was small, containing only a couple of chairs, a table, and a platform for the person being measured and fitted. Sitting in an upholstered chair, Rudolf stretched out his legs and ordered, “Bring us several gowns,”

  Madame Andrews left the room.

  “Are you going to sit there and watch?” Samantha whispered.

  Rudolf grinned. “That is what a loving husband would do. Is it not?”

  “You are not my husband,” she reminded him.

  Madame Andrews returned before he could reply. She carried an armful of gowns, set them down on the table, and held each one up for their inspection. Most had fitted bodices and long, loose sleeves, and had been created from the best quality materials—silk, velvet, and sarcenet.

  “I chose colors I thought would suit Her Highness,” the woman told them.

  “We’ll take the white muslin morning dress,” Rudolf said. “I like the shell pink and the sky blue silks, the garnet and the midnight blue velvets, the amethyst sarcenet, and that forest green riding habit.”

  “These gowns are too costly,” Samantha interjected. “Only give me the—”

  “My bride is unused to spending my money,” Rudolf told the dressmaker.

  Madame Andrews smiled. “Enjoy the moment, Your Highness. Becoming accustomed to spending money is very easy.”

  “I am certain you are correct,” Rudolf agreed. “My bride will need cashmere shawls and slippers to match each gown, silk and lace chemises, silk stockings with lace garters, and nightgowns and bedrobes.”

  “I
only make gowns, Your Highness,” Madame Andrews answered.

  Rudolf stared at her intently. “I wish you to procure them for us and will pay you triple for your trouble.”

  Madame Andrews inclined her head. “I will gladly do that for you.”

  “lnclude the ostrich feather I saw in your window,” Rudolf added.

  “An ostrich feather?” Samantha echoed. “No jewels?”

  “The jewels will come in time.”

  Turning to Samantha, Madame Andrews said, “If Your Highness will allow me to remove your gown.”

  Rudolf smiled when Samantha opened her mouth to protest his presence and then thought better of it. She showed the woman her back and let her unbutton her gown.

  Catching Samantha’s eye when she stood in her chemise, Rudolf slid his gaze down the length of her body. He admired the swell of her breasts above the neckline of her chemise, and remembered their softness and taste. He dropped his gaze to her tiny waist, the inviting curve of her hips, shapely legs, and dainty feet.

  Rudolf felt his manhood stirring and wondered at his own sanity. Why was he doing this to himself? The more he looked, the more he wanted.

  Madame Andrews finished taking her measurements and left the room for a moment. Samantha stepped into her gown again. Rudolf bolted out of the chair, saying, “I’ll button it for you.”

  Wearing an unhappy expression, Samantha showed him her back. Rudolf buttoned her gown tantalizingly slowly, admiring the slender column of her back. He nuzzled her neck when he reached the top.

  “You promised,” Samantha whispered.

  “I am playing a role for the dressmaker,” Rudolf lied.

  “She left the room.”

  “Ah, my mistake.” He planted a kiss on the side of her throat.

  Madame Andrews returned and asked, “Your Highness, where shall I deliver the garments in the morning?”

  “We will be staying at the Royal Rooster Inn.” Rudolf helped Samantha with her cloak and folded her hand inside the crook of his arm. They left the shop and walked down High Street in the direction of the inn.