The Trouble With Princesses

by Tracy Anne Warren

  Hot color flooded her cheeks, her mouth drawing into a tight line.

  “Now before you get your ribbons in a knot, hear me out,” he said.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because,” he began, as he took a seat on the couch next to her, “I can give you exactly what you want without your having to take any undue risks. In other words, you can, as the saying goes, have your cake and eat it too.”

  A frown creased her strawberry blond brows. “I thought you were opposed to my taking a lover.”

  “I was, but at heart I am a pragmatist. Short of locking you up, which sadly I have not the means to do here in England, there is nothing I can really do to stop you.”

  “Though you have certainly given it a good try these past two weeks.”

  He chuckled. “I have. You are right. But my efforts grow wearisome for us both, I think. Upon reflection, I realized that you would simply persist in this notion of yours until you found some way to succeed, to your everlasting detriment.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know the character of the men you have been considering, and none of them are worthy of the great trust you would be placing in their hands by taking them to your bed.”

  Her frown deepened.

  “So, it seemed to me that a compromise was in order.”

  “Meaning that this arrangement would simply be a way to keep me from causing an embarrassing scandal?” she shot back, regaining some of her natural fire. “It sounds rather cold-blooded to me.”

  “Oh, an affair with me will be anything but cold-blooded. I promise you that.”

  Reaching out, he stroked his knuckles over the side of her face from temple to chin. Though she tried to conceal it, he felt her response, a faint quiver beneath her skin that gave her away.

  He smiled and leaned forward. “You can’t pretend we aren’t compatible, not after that night in the study. You must think of it sometimes.”

  “You are wrong. I don’t,” she said.

  But he could tell she was lying by the way her gaze refused to meet his own.

  He caught her chin between his fingers. “Then maybe you need a reminder. A little something to convince you I’m right.”

  Bending low, he crushed his lips to hers, using just enough pressure, just enough skill and persuasion to hold her in his thrall. For a second she tried to pull away, but then she quivered again, her mouth trembling as a ragged sigh escaped.

  And he knew he had her.

  He deepened their kiss, not giving her the chance to do anything but feel. Her eyelids drifted closed, her lips softening as they grew warm and pliable against his own. Using the very tip of his tongue, he drew a damp line across the plump curve of her lower lip and felt her quake.

  He smiled and stroked again, the honeyed taste of her, the lush texture of her soft skin, sizzling through his veins like wildfire. How easy it would be to give himself over to the sensations.

  The temptations.

  But for now, he needed to keep his head. Needed to make her see the wisdom of choosing him as her lover. There would be time enough later to sate himself on her loveliness. Not that he intended to go quite as far as she thought or wished, but he would give her the pleasure she craved. He would see to it that she had nothing to regret.

  Slowly, reluctantly, he drew away.

  She sat unmoving, eyes still closed. She looked a bit like she was floating.

  He skimmed his fingers over her cheek. “See how good we are together? Tell me you will be my lover, Ariadne.”

  Her eyes opened, a misty passion lingering in their depths. As he watched, she worked to push it away. “I–I don’t know. I need to think.”

  “Very well. But do not think too long. I’ll want an answer soon.”

  She nodded.

  • • •

  Later that evening Ariadne stood in a crowded ballroom, her mind still awhirl with thoughts of Rupert and his startling suggestion.

  Be my lover, he had said.

  She shivered again just remembering his words and his kiss.

  Of all the men she had considered as potential lovers, she had never thought of him—well, not seriously.

  Naturally, she’d thought of his kisses from that night in the study, despite the denial she had offered when he’d questioned her this afternoon. She’d even dreamed of being in his arms again, reliving the raw passion and heady delight of his touch.

  But in the cool light of day, any notions of pursuing a more intimate relationship with him had seemed laughable at best. They were longtime adversaries, for one, the pair of them mixing together about as well as two cats in a basket. He needled her and she needled him back. That’s the way it had been since their very first meeting years ago.

  So how could she now be expected to think of him in such a radically different manner? How could she contemplate taking him into her bed and letting him be the one to introduce her to all the pleasurable mysteries of physical love?

  Yet the idea sent hot and cold tingles coursing over her skin, made her stomach clench and the most delicate parts of her body ache with a longing she had never felt before.

  He would teach her—or so he said.

  This could all be nothing more than a ruse designed to keep her from making a connection with a likely gentleman. Yet in all their dealings, Rupert had never lied to her, and she did not think he was lying now. He’d offered to be her lover and he meant it. He’d told her he would keep her safe and he meant that as well.

  But did he truly desire her?

  Did he really want to be her lover?

  Her first?

  If it had been anyone else, she would have discussed the whole situation with Emma. Asked for her advice on how to proceed. But how could she when Rupert was Emma’s brother, and her older brother to boot?

  Ordinarily she was too brazen for her own good, and not easily embarrassed. Yet part of her cringed to think of revealing the details of her amorous encounters with Rupert. Even as close as she and Emma were, she just couldn’t imagine confiding the truth, not even to her dearest friend.

  Besides, she sensed that Rupert would be far from pleased if she shared what she imagined he considered a private matter between the two of them. If she agreed to this affair, she realized that he meant them to keep it in the strictest of confidence—from everyone, even from his sister.

  So, was she really thinking of accepting him?

  There would certainly be benefits to the arrangement, over and above the excellent points he had already made. He was right when he said she could trust him. Out of all the gentlemen she was considering, he was the only one who truly had no reason to reveal their affair. He had nothing to gain, no pride to stoke, no financial agenda to seek. With him she wouldn’t have to worry for her reputation, which would be nice to keep if she could, she realized. She also knew him, knew the kind of man he was, so there would be no surprises there.

  Plus, from a purely practical standpoint, an affair between them would be easy to conduct. After all, they lived in the same house, with his rooms only just down the hall. It would make meeting at night no more difficult than maneuvering through the house unobserved.

  Except for the servants, of course. There were always the servants to consider.

  But her maid was loyal; Ariadne knew she wouldn’t say a word, even if she found out. And his servants were scrupulously tight-lipped, especially his valet. She had met his valet and could tell that the man would rather have been put to death than reveal Rupert’s private dealings.

  So as long as she and Rupert were careful, an affair between them might be the very best of all worlds.

  Have I decided, then? Shall I tell Rupert yes?

  She was contemplating the question yet again when her dance partner presented himself.

  Lord Selkirk bowed low, then straightened with a smile on his face. “Princess Ariadne, a pleasure as always. May I say that you are looking particularly lovely this evening.”

  “Why,
thank you, my lord.” She smoothed a gloved palm over the skirt of her bronze silk gown with its rounded half-sleeves, sheer white gauze overskirt, and wide flounce embroidered with small blue and gold birds in midflight. It was one of her favorite dresses. She had worn it tonight specifically to soothe her unsettled thoughts and give her a little extra confidence.

  “And may I say the same of you,” she replied.

  Selkirk’s eyes widened momentarily; then he laughed with clear good humor.

  She smiled and accepted his arm so he could escort her onto the dance floor. As they strolled deeper into the ballroom, she glanced around in search of Rupert. But for the first time in the past two weeks, he was nowhere to be seen.

  Was he even there? He hadn’t accompanied her, Emma, and Nick in the family coach tonight. And rather than join them for dinner, he’d sent word through his valet that he had a prior engagement and would see them later.

  How much later? And what was he doing?

  Odd as it might seem, she wondered if he was giving her some private time to make her decision. Although tonight’s ball was hardly private, surrounded as she was by a crush of people who were all wildly determined to make merry.

  But she’d had no more chance to consider what she would tell Rupert when she saw him, as Selkirk drew her into the dance. And maybe that was Rupert’s ultimate goal. To lull her into a false complacency where she imagined she still had a choice.

  What worried her most was wondering if she really wanted one.

  Selkirk was an excellent dancer and soon her mind was pleasantly preoccupied. By the end of the set, she was slightly out of breath from the lively movements of a contra dance, her cheeks flushed and moist with an invisible sheen of perspiration.

  “Warm?” he inquired, as they left the floor, arm in arm.

  “A bit.” She opened her silk fan and waved it over her heated skin.

  “I supposed I should return you to your friends, but perhaps you would enjoy a few minutes in the garden first?”

  His offer did sound lovely, the cool night air and open spaces beckoning just beyond the glass doors of the ballroom.

  A glance across the room showed her that Emma and Nick were standing together, his head bent attentively over hers as they talked and laughed. Many frowned on the pair’s unfashionable habit of living in each other’s pockets—including Rupert, who thought displays of affection should be private.

  But Ariadne found her friends’ devotion charming. More couples should be so obviously in love.

  “Yes,” she told Selkirk, meeting his dark gaze. “A breath of fresh air would be most welcome.”

  The night was warm, yet still felt cooler than the packed ballroom. She drew in a deep lungful of air, relishing the subtle fragrance of jasmine and roses dancing on the slight breeze. A few crickets sang a happy tune, while fireflies winked in little bursts of light that briefly illuminated the dark garden beyond.

  She let Selkirk lead her a few yards along the wide stone terrace, the noise from the party growing dimmer with each step they took. Just as she was about to call a halt to their wandering, he stopped.

  “It’s a lovely night,” she said, gazing at a white marble statue that stood out like a pale ghost in the darkness.

  “It is,” he agreed in a soft voice. “But nowhere near as lovely as you.”

  Yesterday she would have been glad to find herself alone and in a secluded location with Lord Selkirk. He was handsome and interesting and sophisticated, everything she could want in a potential lover. Yet now that she was with him, here in this spot where it would be so easy to let him kiss her, all she could think about was Rupert.

  Rupert’s voice.

  Rupert’s mouth brushing against hers.

  Rupert asking to share her bed.

  “We should be returning,” she said abruptly, starting to go back the way they had come.

  Before she could do so, Selkirk took her hand, holding her in place.

  “Not yet,” he said, his voice deep and lyrical, yet containing none of the whiskied rhythm of his rival’s.

  And then he was kissing her, his touch practiced and urbane with none of the hesitation from which some of her other kissing partners had suffered. He was an excellent kisser, his skills in that area as impressive as his skills on the dance floor.

  Suddenly curious to know if she would experience the same dizzying rush of pleasure that she had felt earlier that afternoon in Rupert’s arms, she gave herself over to the moment. She waited, part of her wanting, even wishing, that she would lose herself within his embrace and forget all about Rupert Whyte.

  But the rush didn’t come. Pleasure didn’t burst in her veins and leave her breathless and giddy for more. Instead, she found the kiss sadly hollow, her mind disappointingly her own, her senses those of an observer rather than an eager participant.

  Reaching up, she laid her palms against his chest and gave a little push.

  Selkirk hesitated, then broke the kiss. “Forgive me,” he said in a husky voice. “You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “No, no, it’s quite all right. But we really should be getting back now.”

  She was willing to court scandal, but not for this. Not for him.

  “Wait. There is something I must ask you,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  Without warning, he squeezed her hand and dropped to one knee. “Princess Ariadne, I know I am but a lowly baron, nothing to compare to you in rank or wealth. But I find that I must have you. You are all I think about these days. All I want. Say you will set me free from my misery and agree to be my wife.”

  She stared.

  His wife?

  Good God.

  She gazed into his dark eyes, which were shining with hope and anticipation. She’d had suitors propose before, and refusing them never got any easier. It was worse when she actually liked the man, as she did Selkirk. But liking and loving were two very different emotions and she would not be persuaded to accept a pale substitute for the real thing.

  “My lord, you have quite taken me by surprise,” she began, searching for some easy way to let him down. “I was not expecting a declaration from you.”

  “No, I suppose not, but you have one before you nevertheless.”

  “Indeed. Oh, pray stand up. I cannot have you kneeling on this hard stone.”

  “I would willingly continue to do so if you would but relieve my anxiety with an answer. But it shall be as you wish, Your Highness.”

  Smoothly, Selkirk gained his feet and straightened. He waited in patient silence for her reply.

  “My lord, I—,” she began, then stopped when she heard the scrape of a footfall and sensed they were no longer alone. She gazed out into the darkness and saw the shadowed outline of a tall man with broad shoulders and golden hair.

  She scowled and suppressed an oath.

  Of all the times for Rupert to finally make an appearance, he could not have chosen a worse one. He must have arrived and come looking for her. Just how long had he been watching them? And listening?

  Slowly, obviously aware that she had noticed his presence, he strolled forward.

  As he did, she drew her hand out of Selkirk’s grasp, then looked up again to meet Rupert’s gaze across the dimly lit terrace. “Your Royal Highness.”

  “Princess. Selkirk. Don’t let me disturb you,” he told them. “Do carry on.”

  She cringed, hearing the underlying displeasure in his words. Though what right did he have to be angry? She’d made him no promises.

  Not yet.

  Still, an uncomfortable sense of guilt slid through her, leaving her short-tempered and on edge. “Well, Lord Selkirk and I were having a private discussion, but I suppose we can continue it later.”

  Now it was Selkirk’s turn to scowl. “I would rather we continue it now, Your Highness, if you do not mind.”

  Blast it. She’d hoped to at least have a reprieve, maybe even be able to give her refusal in a letter. But turning down
a man’s proposal of marriage in a note was a cowardly thing to do and Lord Selkirk deserved better.

  “Yes, of course, my lord. You are right.” She met Rupert’s gaze again. “Some privacy, Prince Rupert, if you would be so good.”

  He raised a sardonic brow. “Of course. I would not wish to intrude any further on your tête-à-tête.”

  With a curt bow, he strode off.

  She repressed a sigh, deciding she would find a way to handle Rupert once she was done handling Selkirk. Although handling Rupert was always a tricky matter at best. But she would deal with that particular bit of bother later.

  “Now, my lord, where were we?” She forced a smile.

  Selkirk looked very solemn. “I had just asked you to marry me and you were about to give your reply.”

  “Yes, I was.” She threaded her fingers together. “You do me a great honor, my lord, with your proposal, but as much as I enjoy your company and friendship, I am afraid—”

  “That you cannot accept,” he finished in a flat tone. “Yes, you needn’t continue. I understand your sentiments completely.”

  “My lord, please do not be angry. I have no wish to hurt you. Truly, I like you very much. I just do not believe we would suit, at least not as husband and wife.”

  His eyes were cold. “He’ll never marry you, you know.”

  She blinked but otherwise did not react. “What’s that? I do not know to whom you refer.”

  “Of course you do. You may be as royal as he, but the prince has too much ambition to settle for an empty legacy. You would bring him nothing in terms of alliances or wealth. He may want you in his bed, but he’ll never offer you a ring.”

  She stiffened, angling her chin at an arrogant tilt. “You mistake the matter, my lord,” she said coldly. “His Royal Highness is my friend’s brother, nothing more. I have no interest in marriage to him.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, Princess. It will make the future disappointment easier to abide.” He bowed sharply. “I bid you good night.”

  “Yes, my lord. Good night.”

  But she knew for them it was good-bye.

  As for his assertions about Rupert, he was wrong. She and Rupert could barely be in the same room for five minutes without quarreling. Marriage between them would be absurd. Insane. As for Rupert wanting her? Was Selkirk right about that? Did Rupert desire her for reasons that went far beyond his wish to keep her out of trouble? Remembering his kiss this afternoon, she thought he must.