Always a Princess

by Alice Gaines

  This time, a noise issued from there that sounded like a heavy piece of furniture falling. Good God in heaven, no one could miss that in the ballroom.

  “Philip,” she called. Damn it all to hell, what was going on up there?

  Feet appeared over the windowsill, and then legs. A man dropped to the ground beside her. Philip grabbed her hand and pulled her away, pressing her between his body and the house some few windows down. “I’m getting rather good at climbing out of windows.”

  Inside, feet scuffled as what sounded like a crowd rushed toward the study and then into it.

  “Don’t move,” Constable Chumley ordered. “You’re under arrest.”

  “I?” Arthur bleated. “I’m not the thief.”

  “You have her ladyship’s tiara in your hand, sir,” Chumley bellowed back.

  “What in heaven’s name?” Eve whispered. Philip only shushed her quiet.

  “You don’t understand,” Arthur shouted. “You want those other two.”

  “Take him to Scotland Yard,” Chumley said. “We’ve caught the Orchid Thief.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Eve said. “You planned it this way.”

  “Your friend, Cathcart’s got himself in a spot of trouble,” he said, clutching her hand again. “I suggest we get away from here as quickly as possible.”

  By rights, Philip should have told Eve to leave his family’s house. By rights, she ought to have gone on her own. And yet, she appeared at dinner the next night wearing one of the dresses Sadie had made for her.

  He couldn’t let her leave without knowing she’d be safe and well, of course. He had the funds to make that possible. More and more, he became convinced he couldn’t let her leave at all.

  She seemed subdued as she sat across the table from him. She ate her soup with grim measurements of her spoon and then stabbed at the fish course, all the fire inside her extinguished.

  “Are you quite well, Your Highness?” his mother asked.

  “Very,” she said, hardly attempting her fake accent.

  His mother frowned at him briefly, as if he were to blame for the princess’s unhappiness. Perhaps, he was.

  “At least, they caught that thief,” his father declared. “We won’t be bothered by that nonsense any further.”

  Eve set her fork onto her plate with a clatter and clutched her hands together in her lap.

  His father glanced up from his fish. “Have I said something amiss?”

  “Not at all, Lord Farnham,” Eve answered.

  “Maybe, we should discuss something else,” Philip said quietly.

  “You mustn’t worry, my dear,” his father went on. “The thief has earned himself some good, English justice. We know how to take care of his sort, you may be sure.”

  “Farnham’s right,” his mother added. “He won’t see the light of day again.”

  “I’m sorry.” Eve rose so quickly, her chair nearly toppled behind her. “I must…excuse me.”

  Before Philip could act, she’d left the room at a near-run, and his mother’s hand came down on his.

  “What’s going on between the two of you?” she demanded.

  “Going on?” he repeated, for lack of anything better to say. He certainly wouldn’t share the details of their relationship with his mother.

  “The princess is upset, and it has something to do with you.”

  “Nothing,” he said. “A bit of a misunderstanding.”

  “Then, fix it,” she said.

  “I will.” He tossed his napkin onto the tablecloth and rose. He’d fix things once and for all. He only needed to figure out how before he made it to the top of the stairs and into “the princess’s” bedchamber to confront her.

  At the top of the stairs, he hesitated. He really had behaved wretchedly toward Eve lately, ever since Cathcart’s announcement about her mother’s…well…occupation. He’d never thought himself a snob, but this news would matter if it got out. She should have told him herself, given him the opportunity to make up his mind before he came to care for her. Now, here he stood, paralyzed halfway between misery and hope. If his most outrageous plan to date succeeded, by tomorrow, everything could be settled and they could have their happily-ever-after.

  No choice now, in any case. He’d set everything in motion.

  When he got to her doorway, he lifted his hand to knock and then lowered it again. She might very well send him away if he asked permission to enter. Instead, he let himself inside and pulled the door closed behind him.

  A soft sound came from her bedroom. She was crying. The knowledge sliced through him. His brave, little partner-in-crime, a woman more likely to spit in your eye than apologize for even the most outrageous behavior, and he’d reduced her to this. He went to the threshold and found her slumped on the bed, a rumpled pile of petticoats and satin.

  “Don’t cry, Eve, please,” he said. “I can’t bear it.”

  She jerked to a sitting position and swiped at her eyes. “I’m not.”

  No point arguing the fact. He went to the bed, sat beside her and pulled her into his arms.

  “I’d best leave immediately,” she said. “You’ll let Hubert stay here, won’t you?”

  “Both of you are welcome here for as long as you want.”

  “That’s impossible.” Her chin wobbled, and she bit her lip until it steadied again. “I must insist that you pay me for my share of the Wonder and the diamond necklace. That was our arrangement.”

  “I’ll give you whatever you want, of course.”

  “Good. That way I can disappear.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” He took her chin in his hand and raised her face toward his. Even puffy-eyed, she was so bleeding perfect, so desirable. When he pressed his mouth to hers, she sighed and melted against him. Her fingertips dug into the wool of his coat as he kissed her, slowly losing himself in the honey of her lips. No matter how many times he caressed her, the fire of need she built inside him came as a surprise. No other woman would ever feel quite right after knowing this one. His plan had better work, or he’d have to disappear with her. He’d never let her go.

  He was already breathing hard by the time he pulled back and tucked her head under his chin. “Oh, Eve…”

  “Why did you do it?” She pounded a fist against his chest. “I told you Arthur would ruin everything.”

  “You did.”

  “Even I didn’t think he’d make that much of a racket.”

  “He didn’t,” Philip said. “I did.”

  “You what?” She pushed away from him and stared up at him with a bit of her old spirit. “Why would you do an idiotic thing like that?”

  “To get him arrested, of course,” he said. “To shut him up.”

  “You bloody, great fool. You’ve accomplished exactly the opposite.”

  She looked so outraged, her eyes shooting emerald fire, he couldn’t help but smile. “That’s my girl.”

  “Don’t you ‘my girl’ me, you oaf.” She swatted at his chest again, rather harder this time. “Arthur’s probably telling Chumley everything right now. About our thefts, my mother, everything.”

  “But, he isn’t. I went down and got him out this afternoon.”

  Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him much as his mother had when he’d told her about Charlemagne and the Greek Orthodox Church.

  “Luckily, even Cathcart had the good sense not to say anything before his barrister arrived,” he said. “I got him to sign a full confession in exchange for my help. If he ever utters a word against you, his father will learn everything.”

  “And disown him,” she said.

  “Exactly.”

  “But, how did you get Chumley to let him go?”

  “By giving him the real Orchid Thief,” he said. “I confessed to everything.”

  She stared at him for several seconds without blinking. “You didn’t.”

  “I did. They’re coming ’round tomorrow to collect me.”

  “No,” she said.
r />   “I’ve arranged for Kleckhorn to attend to give you an insanity defense.”

  “No!” This time, she wailed the word. “Philip, you can’t. Not on my behalf. I won’t let you. I’ll tell them the truth.”

  “That is the truth, my darling. I am the Orchid Thief.”

  “I can’t lose you this way.” She began crying in earnest, moisture pooling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. “Not to prison.”

  “Oh, sweet. Don’t.” He kissed one tear away and then another. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose and then, her mouth. Yes, her mouth.

  She stopped crying long enough to kiss him back, her lips moving hungrily under his. When her hands went to his jacket to push it over his shoulders, her intention became clear. This encounter was headed into very pleasant territory, indeed, and his sex immediately sprang to attention in his trousers.

  The two of them fought for supremacy as though they’d called a contest for who could get whom naked the fastest. After she’d removed his jacket and waistcoat, he managed to get his hands free to undo the fastenings at the back of her dress. Soon, he’d freed one breast from her corset cover and could take the nipple into his mouth and feel it harden against his tongue.

  “Oh!” she cried. “Good. So good.”

  The laces of her stays would not cooperate as he fumbled with them, but eventually, he had them loose enough to free her. Clothing flew in all directions. His shirt, her petticoats, his shoes, her stockings. When nothing stood between them but his pants, her small hands against his member made him grit his teeth for some control. When even his trousers were gone, shucked down his legs and finally off, she petted the length of him, from the sac at the base to the tip. His eyes half closed in pleasure as he watched her fingers feather over his shaft and linger at the head.

  Then, still gripping him, she lowered her head. He watched, enraptured, knowing what she planned and knowing even more that he should stop her. But when her lips closed around his flesh, the world dissolved into pool of lust.

  “God, Eve,” he gasped. “I love you.”

  She kept on, her head bobbing as she took more and more of him. He swelled until he could scarcely fit into his skin, and his member turned a furious crimson. No more, or he’d burst.

  Before he’d have to surrender and lose himself, he caught her up and flipped her onto her back. Spreading her legs, he found her pearl where it peeked out from between the lips of her sex. Now, he took his turn pleasuring her. He teased the hardened nub, now rolling it and then flicking the tip of his tongue against it.

  Her breath caught on a sob, this time of pleasure, and her hips moved so that he had to grasp her thighs to hold her against his face. She tasted like caramel—hot and sweet—as he drove her harder.

  “Philip.” She let out a keening cry. “I need…please…now.”

  She wanted him. He didn’t need to hear anything more. Rising above her, he stared down into her face. Her lips were parted as she worked for breath, her eyes glazed with lust. Lust he’d created. Lust for him.

  As he poised himself to enter her, the tip of his cock at the entrance to her body, she sighed with pleasure. “I love you.”

  “And I, you,” he whispered back, as he pushed his hips forward and filled her.

  Lord, but she was tight. Gripping him. Wet. Her head tipped back as he began to thrust, and her legs wrapped around him, holding him.

  Helpless against the rising arousal, he plunged in and out of her. He should go slower, make the moment last, but the feel of her sex around his drove him into madness. Her breathing turned to gasps and then cries as her hands moved along his sides and over his back as if she couldn’t get enough of him.

  When she twisted her hips, he let her turn him onto his back, never breaking their connection. Now, she raised herself onto her fists by his side and moved with him, sliding her sweet puss along his length. Up and down, squeezing him. Grasping her hips, he guided her in the rhythm he wanted. Soon, their bodies were slapping against each other as the pleasure grew to unimaginable levels.

  In the end, he had no choice but to roll her back against the mattress and plow into her like a madman. In truth, he had lost all reason. He was going to climax, and his body wouldn’t let him stop or even slow. God help him, he couldn’t last.

  She came first, miraculous creature. She tensed and shuddered beneath him, and her voice rose on a high, soaring note. When her sex convulsed around his, it took him with her. The orgasm started at the base of his spine and shot through him, coursing along the length of his cock. Semen shot out of him in waves. Again. Again. As if it would never end.

  It finally did, though, leaving him limp. He managed to roll off Eve and pull her against him. Eventually, reason returned and with it the feel of the duvet beneath and the warmth of the woman he loved curled up next to him.

  “God couldn’t let this be the last time,” she whispered. “He couldn’t be that cruel.”

  “I don’t know about the Almighty, but I won’t let it be the last time,” he said.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Keep you with me. Always.”

  “Foolish man. You need a wife and an heir,” she said. “I can’t pretend to be a princess for the rest of my life, even if I wanted to continue fooling your mother and father. Which I don’t.”

  “We’ll solve that problem somehow.”

  “How?” she demanded.

  “I’ll think of something.”

  She snuggled closer to him. “You’re impossible.”

  “I know. For now, we’ll worry about keeping me out of prison. The princess thing will take care of itself.”

  Somehow. It would have to. Because if he’d learned anything in the last twenty minutes, it was that he’d never be parted from this woman for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Constable Chumley has arrived,” Mobley announced.

  “Very good,” Philip said. “Send him up.”

  Philip’s mother glanced with some alarm at Dr. Kleckhorn, where he sat on an overstuffed armchair, and then back toward Philip. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to invite all these…” she hesitated and then gave Kleckhorn an uncertain smile, “…people here this afternoon?”

  “I agree. I have better things to do with my time than talk to the likes of Chumley,” Philip’s father grumbled.

  “And the princess doesn’t look at all well,” his mother said, placing a hand over Eve’s as they sat together on the settee. “Would you like to go lie down, my dear?”

  Eve didn’t answer but merely gave a high-pitched, uncomfortable laugh. Exactly what she’d been doing ever since Kleckhorn had arrived at Philip’s invitation.

  “There, you see?” his mother said. “I’m going to take her to her bed straightaway.”

  “Please don’t, Mother,” Philip said. “I want her to be here while the constable interrogates me.”

  His mother put her hand over her bosom, and her eyes widened to perfect circles. “Interrogates you?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “I say, is that strictly necessary?” his father asked.

  “Father, please bear with me.”

  His mother put her arms around Eve’s shoulders. “You’re being very horrid, Philip. You and the doctor have upset the princess terribly.”

  From the terror-stricken look on Eve’s face, he could only assume his mother was right about that. He didn’t want to frighten the woman he loved, but if he’d told her his plans ahead of time, she might have bolted to who-knew-where. Besides, in her fear, she appeared more than a little distracted, and that illusion would only work to their benefit this afternoon.

  Mobley appeared at the doorway. “Constable Chumley.”

  The butler stepped aside, and the constable entered the room. He took one look at the doctor, and his face assumed a very sour expression. “Kleckhorn.”

  “Chumley,” Kleckhorn said, not appearing a bit happier for Chumley’s presence than
the constable was for his.

  “How utterly delightful,” Philip said. “All of us back together again.”

  “Well, well, get on with it, son,” his father said. “The day’s wasting.”

  “Ja, doch.” Kleckhorn agreed in his native German. “Anything the constable has to do can be over quickly. I’ve already concluded my examination of you and the princess.”

  “And a very thorough examination it was, too,” Philip said. Of course, the idiotic man had managed nothing more than to scare Eve out of her wits. Philip would pay for that, no doubt. But with any luck, by the end of the afternoon all her problems would be over.

  Chumley twirled the end of his mustache and studied the doctor with narrowed eyes. “And what did you discover, Doctor?”

  “I’m sure he’ll only confirm what I’ve already told you, Constable,” Philip said. “That I’m the Orchid Thief.”

  His mother gasped audibly. “Philip, no.”

  “Good God, son, what are you saying?” his father added.

  “I can’t stand to have this on my conscience any longer,” Philip said. “Especially now that I’m to become a married man.”

  Eve made a noise in her throat that was part laughter, part gasp and part hiccup. His mother gave him a look that said she thought him the world’s prize idiot. Perhaps he was. They’d know soon enough.

  In contrast, Chumley looked positively triumphant. He continued twirling the end of his mustache, and his eyes gleamed. “I never doubted it. All the pieces fit into place from the beginning.”

  “The thefts began shortly after I returned from my travels a year ago,” Philip said.

  “Exactly,” Chumley said.

  “And they continued until I confessed to you yesterday.”

  “Precisely,” Chumley volunteered.

  “I had invitations to all the finest houses and a glasshouse full of orchids to obtain the flowers used in the robberies.”

  “What I’ve been saying all along,” Chumley said.

  “I’m not surprised you knew it was me,” Philip said. “I should have known better than to put myself up against anyone as clever as you, Constable.”