Samantha opened her eyes and stared at the prince. He sat with his eyes closed as if letting her song lead him wherever it wanted.
When she ended her song, Rudolf opened his eyes and then stood. “Thank you for the concert, princess,” he said. “You play exceedingly well.”
His compliment pleased her immensely. Samantha returned the violin and the bow to the case and then set it aside. She rose from the settee and accepted his offered hand.
Together, they walked down the corridor to their chambers. Without an invitation, the prince followed her into her bedchamber.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I will unfasten your buttons,” he told her.
With the task completed in mere seconds, Rudolf kissed the side of her neck. Samantha turned around to face him but stepped back a pace.
“Good night, Princess.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “May your dreams be pleasant.”
Samantha watched him walk through the connecting door into his chamber. She stood there for a long moment, wishing circumstances had been different, wishing they were two average people, wishing he wasn’t a prince and she wasn’t a pickpocket.
Giving herself a mental shake, Samantha changed into a nightshift and bedrobe. She gave the door a troubled look and knelt beside the bed.
“Thank You, Lord, for getting us here safely,” Samantha murmured, covering her face with her hands. “Thank You for having the marquess renovate Sweetheart Manor”—she spread her fingers and stared at the dresser—”and thank You for giving me the idea to block the door.”
Rising from the floor, Samantha crossed the room on bare feet and slowly pushed the dresser toward the connecting door. The prince was an honorable man, but he was a man, nevertheless, and might decide to visit her during the night, catching her in a weakened state.
With her door safely blocked, Samantha climbed into the bed and pulled the coverlet up. She looked at the door and wondered what he was doing.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Samantha?”
She stared at the door in silence. Pretending sleep seemed the best course of action.
“Samantha, are you awake?” Rudolf asked. “What was that noise?”
She heard him trying to open the door. Several muttered words in Russian followed that.
A moment later, the corridor door burst open, and Samantha bolted up in the bed. Looking none too happy, the prince marched across the chamber and then pushed the dresser to its original place.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Samantha demanded.
“If a maid walked into this room and saw that door blocked,” Rudolf said, his voice stern with anger, “both of us would be disgraced. They would doubt who we are and send a message to the marquess. That could bring Vladimir to us.”
“I don’t believe that would happen,” she argued.
“Would I lie?”
“Yes.”
“Commoners always watch royals and then gossip about them,” Rudolf said, running a hand through his black hair in obvious frustration. “Do you want that?”
Samantha felt a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
“There is no need to block the door,” Rudolf assured her. “You are safe with me.”
“I wasn’t safe last night,” she reminded him. “I lost my virtue.”
“Virginity has nothing to do with virtue,” Rudolf told her, turning to leave.
Samantha had no idea what he meant. She dropped her gaze to his flaming red silk bedrobe. Of all the colors in the universe, she would never have expected the prince to wear a red bedrobe.
“Your Highness?” Her lips twitched with the urge to laugh.
“What is it now?”
“Is that true red or false red?” she asked.
“Red is red,” he growled. “Purple is purple.” At that, the prince disappeared through the connecting door into his chamber.
Samantha lay back on the bed and stared at the door. She felt relieved that the matter of his sneaking in here was settled. And yet the bed seemed lonely without him. She’d grown accustomed to his body beside hers.
She missed him.
Chapter 6
“I missed you beside me last night.”
Seated at the dining table the next morning, Samantha glanced at the prince but said nothing. What could she say? She wasn’t about to tell him how much she missed him. That would lead to his crawling into bed with her.
Samantha resumed eating her oatmeal porridge. “I adore melted butter,” she said, reaching for a hot scone. “How is your trout?”
“The trout is baked to perfection,” Rudolf said, his smile telling her he knew she was changing the subject.
“You look very pretty in your white gown. I like the contrasting black shawl.”
“Why are we sitting at the far end of the table?” Samantha asked.
“Since we will be in residence for several weeks, I thought we could amuse ourselves by sitting in a different seat each meal,” Rudolf said, his smile charming. “Changing position does wonders for a person’s point of view. One begins to understand how someone else thinks.”
“What does that mean?”
“If you change your point of view,” he told her, “the world becomes a different place.”
Samantha arched a brow at him. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“You might think differently about us if you saw the situation through my eyes,” Rudolf told her.
“There is no us,” Samantha insisted, leaning close to whisper. “What’s wrong with my point of view? Why don’t you try to see the situation through my eyes?”
The prince caught the majordomo’s eye and, with a flick of his wrist, sent Durwin and a footman out of the room. The majordomo closed the door, leaving them alone.
“How did you do that?” Samantha asked, watching the men leave.
“Practice. The damage to your reputation has been done. Why not relax and enjoy yourself?”
“I told you last night—”
“Lie about your virginity,” Rudolf interrupted, a bitter edge in his voice. “Others do.”
“That would be too dishonest,” she said.
Rudolf burst out laughing. “Princess, until recently, you picked money out of gentlemen’s pockets.”
“Circumstances forced me to do that,” Samantha defended herself. “My family needed to eat,”
“I am not criticizing your behavior,” Rudolf said. “I am merely—never mind.” He stopped talking, apparently deciding to drop the subject. “Finish your porridge. Then we will tour the manor.”
When they emerged from the dining room a short time later, Durwin was waiting just outside the door.
Rudolf turned to the majordomo and said, “Give my compliments to the cook.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. “
“I would like you to seat us in a different place at the table for each meal,” Rudolf instructed the man.
Durwin looked puzzled by the request. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
“We are starting our grand tour of Sweetheart Manor,” Rudolf told him. “The large drawing room is that way?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Shall I escort you around the manor?”
“My bride and I wish to explore the house alone.” He turned to his bride.” Are you ready, my dear?”
Samantha smiled at the prince for the majordomo’s benefit and slipped her arm through his. She would have preferred that Durwin accompany them, but the man would become suspicious if she didn’t want to be alone with her husband.
The large drawing room was formal yet comfortable. The walls sported burnished golden oak from dado to floor as did the mantel above the white marble hearth. The walls above the dado had been papered a deep gold. A red, white, and blue Persian carpet covered the oak floor. Couches, love seats, and settees had been upholstered in various fabrics, the predominate color being a taffeta cream. Tables were positioned here and there, accompanied by wooden chairs
with upholstered cushions.
The portraits of the Douglases covering the walls attracted Samantha. It was the first time she was seeing the illustrious ancestors she’d heard about from her aunt.
“This is Good Sir James Douglas,” Samantha said, staring at a portrait. “He fought and died with William Wallace, Scotland’s greatest hero in the wars of independence.”
“Independence?”
“Scotland has not always been united with England.” Samantha stopped at the next portrait and read the name at the bottom. “This is Archibald the Grim, the bastard son of Good Sir James. When the legitimate Douglas line died, Archibald became the third Earl Douglas.”
“A bastard inherited?”
Samantha nodded. “His son, the fourth Earl Douglas, fought with Joan of Arc against the English.”
“Your father was not Earl Douglas,” Rudolf said.
“My father was the Earl of Melrose, a title granted at a later date to a branch of the Douglas clan,” Samantha told him, slipping her arm through his. “There’s an interesting tale about the first Earl Douglas. During the wars of independence, women in the English garrison sang a lullaby to their children, which ended with the words ‘The Black Douglas shall not get ye.’
“During the recapture of Roxburgh Castle, Black Douglas led his men silently through the dusk to the castle and found an unguarded entrance. The first person he encountered was a woman singing her child to sleep. As she sang ‘The Black Douglas shall not get ye,’ the Black Douglas laid a hand on her arm and said, ‘I am not so sure of that.’”
Prince Rudolf smiled. “So did this Black Douglas get them?”
“I don’t know,” Samantha said with a shrug. “The story always ended there.”
“You must tell me a new story every day,” Rudolf said, guiding her toward the door.
“Only if you tell me one,” she said, her eyes gleaming as she warmed to the man.
Rudolf nodded his head in agreement. “Let us surprise the staff in the kitchen.”
Rudolf and Samantha could hear the buzz of laughter and conversations as they neared the kitchen. All of this stopped the instant they walked into the room. With surprised expressions frozen on their faces, the servants snapped to attention.
Warm and inviting, the kitchen was enormous. On one side was a gigantic red brick hearth, and opposite that were dozens of pots and pans hanging from hooks on the wall. Laden with bowls and utensils, a long table with wooden chairs stood in the middle of the room.
“My compliments to you,” Rudolf spoke to the cook. “I have not eaten so well since leaving my homeland.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” The cook preened beneath the prince’s praise.
Samantha glanced at the maids. Sally was staring at the prince with an expression of mingling adoration and hunger unacceptably bold.
Feeling a twinge of jealousy, Samantha touched the prince’s arm and smiled warmly when he turned to her. “Darling,” she drawled in a good imitation of her aunt, “the staff is busy with their party preparations. We should continue our walk.”
“You are correct.” Rudolf turned to the cook again, saying, “I can hardly wait for your next meal.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Do you like gingerbread?” Samantha asked, as they left the kitchen.
“I have never eaten it,” the prince answered.
“Gingerbread topped with clotted cream is a taste of heaven,” Samantha told him. “I’ll make you a batch tomorrow.”
The prince looked surprised. “You cook?”
“We didn’t keep servants at the cottage,” Samantha reminded him.
Rudolf smiled. “I will help you make this gingerbread.”
Three more chambers on the first floor awaited their inspection—the marquess’ office, the chapel, and the library. The office was located in the rear of the house and overlooked the gardens. A warm, cozy atmosphere pervaded the room—roaring fire in the hearth, sturdy oak desk, oversized chairs.
“What is that?” Samantha asked, spying the heap of papers tossed on top of the desk.
“Karl packed my business ledgers,” Rudolf answered.
“What kind of businesses?”
“Shipping, mostly.”
“My brother-in-law has shipping lines,” Samantha said.
“Yes, the marquess is part of my competition,” Rudolf told her. “I was hoping you would play your violin while I worked.”
“I would like that,” Samantha said, blushing.
Their next stop was the chapel. Samantha merely peered inside the door and then turned away.
“Would you like to go inside and thank God for something?” Rudolf teased her.
“I don’t need chapels or clergy to speak to God,” she told him. “He hears me no matter where I am.”
The two-storied, loft-style library was their final destination in the Georgian section of the manor, the third level being servants’ quarters. The library was as big as any ballroom Samantha had ever seen.
A large fireplace heated the first section of the room, and the walls sported built-in bookcases from floor to ceiling. In the middle of the room perched a gigantic globe of the world in a wooden stand.
A double archway served as the entrance to an attached reading room with its own marble hearth. Comfortable-looking upholstered and leather seating arrangements filled the room.
“I never saw so many books,” Samantha said, turning in a circle. “My sister Victoria would hate this chamber.”
“She does not like books?”
His tone of voice told her he couldn’t imagine anyone not liking books. She felt the same way but understood her sister’s taste in activities.
“Tory has difficulty reading and ciphering numbers,” Samantha told him. “I think something is wrong with her eyesight. She sees p’s instead of q’s and nines instead of sixes.”
“How frustrating that must be.” Rudolf turned to the stairway leading to the second level. “Let us go upstairs.”
The loft-style second level had upholstered and leather benches and chaises against the walls. Sconces and portraits hung above them.
When they turned to retrace their steps downstairs, Rudolf flashed her a charmingly boyish smile. “Watch this.”
Rudolf perched on the well-polished railing and slid to the first level, leaping off at the bottom. Samantha burst out laughing.
“You try now,” Rudolf called.
Samantha shook her head. “I’m afraid.”
“I will catch you.”
Samantha perched sideways on the railing as the prince had done. Laughing all the way, she slid down the banister.
True to his word, Rudolf grabbed her by the waist before she could fall. He lost his balance in the movement and fell, shielding her from hitting the oak floor as they went down.
Samantha lay on top of the prince and laughed. Keeping her within his embrace, Rudolf joined in her merriment.
Without warning, Rudolf placed a hand behind her head to keep her steady and kissed her. Caught up in the moment, Samantha surrendered to her tender feelings for him and returned his kiss in kind. It was the prince who broke their kiss.
“You take my breath away,” he said. “Literally.”
Samantha laughed again and rose slowly from the floor. She held out a hand to help him up. When he seemed to be pulling her down again, she cried, “Don’t you dare.”
Samantha broke free from his grasp and, laughing all the way, ran out of the library as fast as her limp would allow. Rudolf leaped off the floor and bolted after her. Catching her in the corridor, he threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against the side of his body.
“Small moments like this have been missing from my life for a long time,” Rudolf said, planting a kiss on her temple. “Thank you, Princess.”
Samantha responded to the warmth in his voice. She gave him a jaunty smile. “You are welcome, your Highness.”
The second section of Sweetheart Manor
had been built during the reign of William and Mary. The upper level served as servants’ quarters, and the first floor had been renovated into a spectacular ballroom. The hardwood floors had been left bare for dancing, and a gigantic crystal chandelier hung over the center of the ballroom. On the far side of the room stood a grand piano.
Rudolf and Samantha crossed the ballroom on their way to the Tudor section of the manor. When they reached the middle of the ballroom and stood beneath the chandelier, Rudolf paused and turned to her.
“May I have this dance, my lady?” Rudolf asked, holding out his hand, mirroring the night they met.
Falling in with his playful mood, Samantha flashed him a smile. “Are your intentions honorable, Your Highness?”
“No.”
“In that case . . .”
Smiling into the prince’s dark eyes, Samantha placed her hand in his and stepped into his arms. With the prince humming a waltz, they swirled around and around the ballroom. How she wished returning to London was not in their immediate future.
“A passing cloud is casting a shadow over your smile,” Rudolf said. “What are you thinking?”
Samantha blushed but said nothing.
“You have a thought you do not wish to share?”
Samantha inclined her head.
“I will demonstrate how I dance with Zara,” Rudolf said. “That will bring the sunshine back to your smile.”
“Zara?”
“My daughter is Zara,” Rudolf told her. “Remove your shoes.”
Samantha gave him a puzzled smile but removed her slippers.
“Stand on my boots,” he instructed her.
Samantha giggled. “You want me to—?”
“Step on top of my boots and hold on to me.”
When she did as instructed, the prince pulled her close. Slowly, much too slowly for a real waltz, he began to dance around the ballroom.
Samantha burst out laughing. Unable to control her mirth, she fell off the top of his boots.
“How odd, Zara has the same reaction when I dance with her,” Rudolf remarked, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile.
To Charm a Prince Page 10
