The Princess and the Peer

by Warren, Tracy Anne

  “What about the music room, or maybe the library?” she suggested with a hint of reproof before giving her arm a slight tug.

  He didn’t let go. “Those choices are too risky what with all the guests in the house. Anyone could wander into any room at any time. Besides, I believe we’ve met in enough libraries already, don’t you?”

  A slight flush warmed her cheeks at his reminder.

  When she tugged again, he released her. She strolled into the room, then stopped and crossed her arms tightly over her ribs. “Very well. I am here, so let us talk. It’s probably for the best anyway. Why do I not go first?”

  He raised a brow in surprise. “If you like.”

  She nodded. “What are you doing here, Nick? And how did you come by an invitation? Am I correct in assuming that Ariadne and Mercedes had something to do with it?”

  A moment passed before he replied. “I hope I am not giving away any confidences at this point if I say yes, although I am the one who actually obtained the invitation. I called in a favor with an admiralty contact I know. Their Highnesses simply told me when and where I needed to be.”

  “They ought to have minded their own business.”

  He shunted aside the small pain her words caused, buried the trace of worry. “Well, I am not.”

  “And none of you deemed it my business to mention your little plan beforehand rather than springing it on me at tonight’s reception?” she continued.

  “You did look rather astonished,” he remarked with a slight smile. “I am sorry. It was at my request that they concealed it. I feared you might refuse to see me if you knew.”

  Her arms tightened fractionally around her chest and she frowned.

  “Emma, I had to see you. I had to have a chance to talk things out without all the rancor of our last real conversation. We couldn’t talk freely that night at the theater, and there are things that need saying. For a start, I feel I owe you an apology.”

  She looked up, her eyes wide. “An apology? For what?”

  “I was cruel that night at Carlton House. I was angry and judged you without giving you a real opportunity to explain. It is only that I knew one version of you, then suddenly discovered another. Your story about being a governess never really made sense. You always were far too independent, much too confident in your opinions to ever have been in the service of another. I knew that even then. But to find out who you really are—well, it was a shock. Regardless, I should not have spoken as I did.”

  “You had every right to be furious with me,” Emma said. “I deceived you, and it is only natural that you would feel horribly ill used. I can only say again that it was never my intention to hurt you. I hope you can forgive me for that much at least.”

  He stepped closer and met the vivid blue of her eyes. “Anything there may have been to forgive, I have done so long ago. Now, will you tell me something?”

  “What?”

  “Why did you give your innocence to me that night? You never said, and I find that I must know.”

  The breath stilled inside Emma’s lungs, her heart ceasing to beat for a moment. “The reason doesn’t matter now.”

  He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I think it matters very much. Tell me, Emma. Why?”

  Tears suddenly stung her eyes; one teardrop escaped and rolled traitorously down her cheek.

  He reached up a thumb and wiped it away. “Tell me,” he urged again, leaning down to brush his mouth over her damp skin.

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “I do not dare.”

  “Why? We were good friends while we were together—more than friends. I think you know that you may tell me anything.”

  She shook her head, her heart thundering in her ears. “Not this. It is too late.”

  “No, I refuse to believe that. Say it, Emma. Tell me why you chose to surrender your innocence. Why you let me be the first…”

  More tears filled her eyes, and she trembled, suddenly unable to hold anything back. “Because I loved you.”

  A fierce light flared in his eyes. “And now? How do you feel now?”

  A shudder chased over her skin, leaving her hot and cold at the same time. She knew she should refuse to say what was in her heart. Of all the times to lie, this was the one.

  But she could not.

  How could she when he must surely see the truth shining in her eyes?

  “The weeks apart have not altered my feelings or my love,” she confessed.

  “Nor mine,” he said in a reverential voice. “I love you too, Emma. Whatever obstacles may lie between us, never doubt my love.”

  Before she could make so much as a sound, his mouth came down on hers and crushed her lips with an ardor so fiery it could not be contained.

  She kissed him back, pouring all her passion, all the love and longing she had tried so hard not to show into their embrace. Reaching up, she looped her arms around his neck and arched closer still.

  Wanting him.

  Wanting everything.

  She breathed in the warm masculine scents of brandy and linen starch that lingered on his skin and clothes. Letting her eyes slide closed, she savored each delectable sensation, every intoxicating caress.

  She’d thought she remembered the exquisite joy of his kiss, but now that she was with him again she knew her memories were nothing but a weak counterfeit when compared with the reality. His touch, his taste, the shape and feel of his mouth and hands and body were as close to heaven as a human being could dare hope to know. Refusing to think of all that stood between them, she deepened their kiss, opening her mouth in a bold invitation of mutual passion and sweet surrender.

  He answered her siren’s call, his tongue both daring and clever against her own. She tried to match the fervid intensity of his kisses, but he was her master, doing things that made her muscles turn as soft and pliable as sculptor’s clay.

  Lost in the heated, heady beauty of his touch, she traced a hand along the strong line of his neck. Slowly, with a kind of dreamy reverence, she threaded her fingers into the dark satin of his hair and played there. Caressing his scalp, she leaned deeper into the protective curve of his arms.

  His kisses took an even more potent turn, each rapturous slide of his lips and moist glide of his tongue more enthralling than the last. She trembled with need, with jubilation, with unquenchable love.

  Abruptly Nick tore his mouth from hers, visibly striving to regulate his breathing. She tried to draw him back, but he took her hand and pressed a kiss against the soft flesh of her palm. “Marry me, Emma.”

  She stilled, certain she could not have heard him right. “W-what?”

  “Marry me,” he repeated. “I love you and you just said that you love me. Whatever impediments exist beyond that we can overcome together.”

  Her throat closed tight as if it were caught inside a noose. She hadn’t thought it was possible for her heart to break again, the fragile organ had been shattered so many times before. But a new fracture formed, a piece shearing off, as dearly wished dreams collided with reality.

  “You know I cannot,” she told him, making no effort to conceal her anguish. “I am to be betrothed.” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.

  “But you aren’t betrothed yet. No official announcement has been made. You are here only to meet him. Nothing has been decided.”

  “I suppose Ariadne told you all of that. She should not have given you false hope.”

  “My hope isn’t false so long as you say you will be my wife,” he said, gliding a knuckle along the line of her throat with a gentleness that turned her knees weak. “I had planned to ask you to marry me the morning you left, you know. I loved you even then, though I did my damnedest not to admit it once I learned you’d fled. But my heart was already beyond reclaim; you took it with you when you left. Emma, these weeks have been hell without you.”

  She shivered and leaned her forehead against his cheek. “For me too,” she whispered.

  “Then marry me, love. Or w
ill you be sorry to be no more than a countess when you could be a queen instead?”

  Her head came up, her gaze fierce. “What do I care about being a queen? This marriage is my brother’s doing and none of my own. It matters not to me if you are a prince, or an earl, or an ordinary man without a title at all. I would love you the same no matter your rank.”

  His eyes turned warm as smoke. “Then you agree to be my bride?”

  A sensation that was halfway between despair and elation blossomed in her chest. “Were I free to give you my pledge, I would, without hesitation.”

  “Then my bride is exactly what you shall be,” he stated in an emphatic tone. “In the morning, I will speak with your brother and formally ask for your hand.”

  “No,” she said, aghast. “Have I not just told you that he is the one who arranged my marriage to King Otto? He will not release me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I have already asked him to end the betrothal. He says the future of our nation depends on this union and that I must comply. He will never let us wed.”

  “Men are known to change their minds, particularly where their family is concerned. Perhaps once we explain that we are in love—”

  She gave a hard shake of her head. “He does not believe in love. He says it has no place in a royal marriage, that duty must always take precedence. Asking him for my hand is futile.”

  “I refuse to believe that. During the war, I found myself in all sorts of seemingly impossible situations and yet I always figured some way out—some means of prevailing.”

  “This isn’t a war, Dominic.”

  “Is it not? It certainly feels like one. The most important battle of my life.”

  She tightened her arms around his waist. “Thank you for wanting to fight for me even if we cannot win.”

  His jaw took on a mulish cast. “We can. I am not afraid of your brother, or intimidated by his position, even if he does happen to be the prince regent of Rosewald.”

  “You are the least cowardly man I know, but this has nothing to do with bravery. If you confront him, it will only make things worse.”

  “How can it be worse?”

  “Believe me, it can. He could send me home immediately and compel me to go through with the marriage anyway. It is within his power to make sure you and I are separated so that we may never see each other again.”

  “I will find you again no matter what he does. I swear that to you, Emma. Now that I know you love me, nothing on earth will keep me from making you my wife.”

  If only it could be so, she thought.

  “If we must,” he continued, “we will elope.”

  “You mean run to Scotland?”

  “Yes, that is exactly what I mean. I am going to ask your brother for your hand because it is the honorable thing to do—” She opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her with a soft touch. “If he refuses, as you assure me he will, then we will head to Scotland.”

  “Once he realizes we’ve left, he will call out his guard. They are trained officers and will have no trouble following our trail.”

  “They will, if we go by sea.”

  Her mouth rounded on a hushed inhalation.

  “I know a ship’s captain in Bristol,” Nick told her. “If I say the word, he will lend me a vessel and we can sail with the first tide. By the time anyone knows what we’ve done, we will be married and it will be too late.”

  A sudden wild hope flared to life inside her. Could it really be that simple? Was it actually possible that she and Nick could marry?

  “Then yes,” she said. “But let’s not wait. Let’s go tonight. I’ll pack a bag and we can be on our way before anyone realizes.”

  “You forget that I have to contact the captain first and have him prepare the ship. It will do us no good to get caught. Be patient, love. Let me speak to your brother. Let me give him a chance to see reason. If he does not, then we will run.”

  “But once you reveal your interest in marrying me, he may demand that you leave the estate. You don’t know Rupert.”

  “And he doesn’t know me. If he kicks me out, I will simply come back for you. Besides, we have a secret weapon of which he knows nothing.”

  She frowned. “What weapon?”

  “Your friends, the princesses. They will aid us.”

  And for the first time, Emma smiled. Then she laughed. “You are right. They will. Ariadne loves to interfere, especially when it’s for something she considers a good cause.”

  Looping her arms around his neck, she kissed him, a happiness she hadn’t thought to ever feel again rushing through her veins. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the moment, holding nothing back as she lost herself in his kiss. He lifted her off her feet and took her deep, so that she could no longer tell where she ended and he began. Their mouths merged, their breaths mingling into one. His touch swept her up to the heavens and let her know what it must feel like to have wings.

  Soaring, she sank gratefully into the joy.

  Chapter 25

  Nick sank into their embrace, her kisses like a homecoming. Having her in his arms was heaven, a benediction that searched out all the dark, empty spaces inside him and filled them with light. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how desolate he’d been, as if he’d been holding his breath all these weeks and only now was able to breathe again.

  Emma kissed him back, her lips moving with warm purpose over his own, her hands clutching his shoulders to hold him near.

  He moaned and drew her tighter, his arousal pressed hard against her stomach. Aching to touch her, all of her, he stroked the sleek arch of her spine before roaming downward to cup the rounded curve of her bottom in a wide, appreciative palm.

  She was the one to moan this time, the sound reverberating between them with raw, hungry need. Spurred on by the sound, he kissed her with a fierce possession that made the world tilt.

  He was reaching to unfasten the buttons on the back of her gown when a dull bang echoed in the distance, as if someone had slammed a door somewhere inside the house.

  He paused and so did she, the two of them growing suddenly still. His gaze locked with the velvety blue of her eyes, her breath soughing in little pants from between her parted lips.

  He wasn’t in much better shape than she, his muscles trembling with the force of his desire. Giving his head an abrupt shake, he tried to clear some of the hazy passion from his brain. “You make me lose my head,” he murmured in her ear.

  “You make me lose mine too.”

  “I suppose I should take you back to your room,” he said reluctantly.

  “Hmm, I suppose so,” she sighed in resignation.

  Yet neither of them made any effort to end their embrace.

  “Of course, it might be better for you to stay here for a while,” he mused. “We wouldn’t want to risk getting caught by whoever it is roaming the corridors.”

  “No, that could be disastrous.” She smiled, then stretched up on her toes to press quick, drowsy kisses to his mouth, her touch as delicate and delicious as butterfly wings. “I think I should definitely stay. Don’t you?”

  He shuddered, a tremor chasing down his spine, straight to his shaft. “Yes.”

  Yanking her higher against him, he ravished her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in a rhythm that mimicked what he wanted to do in other places and with other parts of his body. He made quick work of the buttons on her dress, then began freeing the laces of her stays.

  Suddenly desperate to touch her bare flesh, he pushed down the bodice of her dress and found her breasts, fondling one, then the other, through the thin material of her linen shift. She squirmed and whimpered, her nipples turning to sharp points beneath his questing fingers.

  Time spiraled outward on invisible ribbons, entwining them in a haze so scorching it was a wonder neither of them were burned. Despite the careful amount of wine he’d consumed earlier, his head swam as if he were drunk.

  And perhaps
I am, he thought hazily. Drunk on happiness and love and passion. God knows he wanted her, his shaft hard and aching where it strained insistently against the buttons of his falls.

  He hadn’t touched a woman since he’d lain with Emma.

  The first time.

  The only time.

  But he didn’t want another woman.

  Only her.

  Now and forever.

  She is mine, he thought, dappling her skin with kisses.

  Mine to love.

  Mine to possess until death us do part.

  They may not have taken the actual marriage vows yet, but to him she was already his wife and no man would ever keep them apart again.

  She must have agreed, because her small hands slid underneath his shirt to find the flat expanse of skin and hair just above his waistband. He drew in his stomach on an unsteady gasp, his arousal giving a maddened throb.

  Bending, he swept her high into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  Emma let him peel the clothes from her body, then lay naked against the sheets, her long hair flowing in a cascade over the pillows. Nick had pulled the pins free, tossing them haphazardly after her dress, stays, and petticoats.

  With an appreciative gaze, she watched him strip off his own clothing. His dexterous hands worked quickly, untying his neckcloth and unbuttoning his waistcoat before he yanked his shirt unceremoniously over his head to expose the glorious breadth of his powerful shoulders, muscular chest, and long, sinewy arms. He kicked off his shoes and rolled his stockings free. His fingers went to his evening breeches where his heavy erection pushed so forcefully against his black silk falls it was a wonder the buttons hadn’t already popped loose. In a few efficient movements, he was as naked as she, although nothing like her in form at all.

  She shivered, but not with the nervous uncertainty she had experienced during their first time together. She knew what awaited her, her inner muscles clenching as her body grew slick with anticipation for the pleasure to come.

  She saw his shaft jerk when he caught her looking, his arousal thrusting eagerly forward as if begging for her touch. Without thinking, she reached up and curled her fingers around him. His flesh pulsed inside her grasp, his hips arching as if to demonstrate what he wanted.