Her Rebellious Prince (Scandalous Family--The Victorians Book 2)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “You’re a rebel…” Beatrice breathed, sounding very pleased.

  Danyal gave her a very small smile. “I am a modern-thinking leader,” he amended gently. “I work for the good of my people.”

  “Is that why you are here?” Elise asked. “I mean…forgive me, but you linger here in England after the end of the season, so you are not here looking for a wife.”

  Danyal’s mouth dropped open. His dark eyes widened a little. “A wife?” he repeated blankly.

  The carriage came to a gentle stop, with no jerking or jolting. The stained old stone walls of the house were visible through the window.

  “That is generally why a single upper-class gentleman attends the Season,” Elise pointed out.

  Beatrice giggled and put her hand over her mouth.

  Danyal stirred, and glanced through the window, as if he only now remembered where they were and why. He gave Beatrice a very polite smile. “Would you excuse me for a moment, Miss O’Halloran? I would speak with Miss Thomsett alone.”

  Beatrice glanced at Elise, startled.

  “It is quite all right to leave me alone with the Prince,” Elise told her. “I have no intention of dallying with the man and I believe he is about to explain to me why he has no intentions of doing the same, either.”

  “I am,” Danyal confirmed. “For it seems that my presence in England at this time has been completely misconstrued, so I must make amends.”

  “Oh, well, in that case…” Beatrice slid across the seat, closer to the door. “It was very nice to meet you, Your Highness.”

  “And I, you, Miss O’Halloran.”

  She gave him a warm smile and stepped out of the carriage and shut the door. Elise watched her move across the wide footpath and climb the broad steps to the front door and go inside.

  When she let herself look at Danyal once more, he was studying her.

  Her heart gave a little flutter and she breathed in, trying to control it. “If you really are not in England to find a wife, you must explain that to my sister, Your Highness.”

  “A fact I have just become acquainted with,” Danyal said, his voice low. “I was aware of the general focus of the London social season, but until this moment, I had not applied it to myself, nor had I understood that all of London would make that presumption for me. This explains a great deal…” He frowned, peering through the door toward the house. “Your sister…”

  “Will understand,” Elise said firmly. “Especially if you can explain to her what you are really doing in England. In the absence of that explanation, everyone makes the presumption you have just tripped over.”

  “Yes, I see that,” Danyal said. “Now,” he added. He thrust the walking cane aside, as if he was irritated. “I did not publicly declare why I was here, because I thought it would upset most of society to know the truth.”

  “As I do not know the truth, either, I am afraid I cannot give any opinion on that matter.”

  Danyal pushed his hand through his hair, disturbing its order. A fine lock dropped over his forehead, shadowing his eyes. His gaze met hers. “I am here to petition Queen Victoria, to ask her to take back the Blackawton title, and remove the stained encumbrance from our family.”

  Elise drew in a slow breath, considering it. “I can see why you think British society might be upset about that.”

  “You are not?” he asked, his tone curious and surprised.

  Elise grimaced. “Blackawton has long associations with my family—dark ones, which have never been fully shared with me, although I understand that tragedy and disaster are linked to the title. I can understand why someone like you, with no interest in England, might wish to be rid of the title.”

  “It has not brought my family much luck,” Danyal admitted. “My uncle, Kosta, came to England years ago in an effort to clear the family name and he returned to Istanbul a changed man. He refused to marry for years and years, until it was nearly too late, and he never did sire a child. And now we have an Emperor who has no patience for English sensibilities. It is time to let the title and its bad luck go.”

  Elise nodded. “You are waiting for an audience with Queen Victoria, then?”

  “Precisely.” He sat back. “I left my brother-in-law, Gavril, to take care of matters back home, but I cannot leave him there forever. The Separatists do not see a difference between the Prince of Pandev and the Emperor, whom they hate. I have much work ahead of me.”

  “Including finding a wife and getting an heir, to secure the principality,” Elise said. “An English wife would upset everything for you,” she added. “Poor Ann…” She glanced at the house.

  “You do not feel at all slighted, then?” Danyal asked.

  “Why should I?” Her heart gave a little thud and she dropped her eyes to her fingers.

  “I did kiss you. A maiden might have expectations, after that.”

  “Oh, I assure you, I am not that type of maiden,” Elise said quickly. She realized she was looking at him, after all. “I have no intention of marrying. Ever.”

  “I see.” He sat back. “I am relieved to know I have not ruined your plans.”

  Elise studied him. “Then why do you not sound relieved?”

  He turned his head away from her. “Had I suspected I might run into you at the park, I would not have gone there at all,” he said softly.

  She jumped a little. “What does that mean?”

  For a moment more, Danyal continued to peer through the window. He seemed to be making a decision. He turned to consider her, his gaze steady once more. “Even though I hoped I would never have to be the Prince, I think that in the very depth of my soul, I knew it was inevitable, so for many years, before I was shackled to the responsibilities, I lived as fully as an heir to an ancient European royal title could live.”

  Elise shook her head. She didn’t understand.

  Danyal sighed and leaned forward, his arms on his knees. “I have kissed a great many women, Elise. Women of all ages, of every rank and those utterly without rank.” His hands curled into fists. The tendons on his wrists flexed. “So why is it I cannot put that disastrous and mistaken kiss I gave you out of my mind?”

  She did not move upon the bench, but her heart did throw itself against her chest, slamming hard. Heat slid through her. “You cannot…?” Her lips did not cooperate enough to finish the sentence. He had thought about her! He had thought about the kiss.

  She trembled. Abruptly, the inside of the carriage seemed far too small and heated. She grew aware of how close his worsted-encased knee was to her own. Leaning forward, the way he was, put his shoulders and his face far too close to her own.

  His gaze measured. Some of her feelings must have shown, for he nodded a little. “You, too, then,” he breathed.

  “We cannot…” Elise whispered, her voice strained.

  “No,” he said in agreement. “There are too many reasons to consider anything but polite friendship. Which is why I asked you to remain behind for a moment.” His gaze didn’t let her go. He held her motionless by the heat in his eyes. “We both have reasons to remain detached. You agree upon that, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where we sit is the least conducive to intimate matters. You agree upon that, too?”

  “Indeed,” she said, for the closed front door of the house was like a blind eye, staring accusingly at her through the carriage window.

  He paused, studying her even more closely. “Then, perhaps, would you mind very much if I kiss you again?”

  Her breath froze. Elise swallowed and her throat ached at the movement. “You wish to toy with me?” Her voice was bodiless.

  “On the contrary.” He gave a small hiss of impatience. “I am explaining this badly,” he muttered. “See here…” He rose enough to shift himself from the back bench to hers. He pushed her skirt aside to make room and settled next to her, then turned on the bench to face her properly. It put their knees in danger of touching and Elise eased herself toward the other end of the
bench, her heart thundering, and echoing with a painful beat in her throat.

  Danyal raised a calming hand toward her. Then, with another impatient hiss, he yanked off the leather gloves and slapped them upon the seat between them. “You and I, Elise, are utterly unsuitable for each other. We just agreed upon that. We sit in broad daylight, on a Sunday morning, for the world to see. There is no champagne to soothe our nerves, no fine music or pleasant bower. I want to kiss you again, to repeat that first kiss, in these most prosaic of circumstances, so I can rid myself of the memory of the first kiss.”

  “I’m not sure I understand how a second kiss would dismiss the first,” she admitted.

  “Because it cannot possibly be as fair as the first,” he replied.

  Her cheeks warmed. He thought the kiss had been good, too? Then she had not been misguided at all! “So…you believe that a bad kiss will negate the good kiss?”

  “It will stop me recalling the kiss with a fervor which has been bothering me for a week,” he admitted, his voice low. “Although I cannot see how any kiss you deliver could be utterly bad. Yet a mundane kiss, in unromantic circumstances…that will put things into perspective and cool my imagination. Do you see?”

  “Your imagination…?” she asked faintly.

  “There is more which naturally follows a kiss,” he added, his voice low.

  She thought her entire body might melt from the heat in his eyes and the heat that she was feeling. She was not ignorant of what followed a kiss, for the library at Northallerton was educational, although she had no personal experience of such matters.

  Danyal, though, must have vast experience. He had kissed many woman, after all. She found it hard to imagine him stopping at simple kisses.

  He waited for her answer, she realized. He waited for her to tell him he could kiss her once more—so that he would not need to remember kissing her ever again.

  It was a ridiculous notion, yet it made sense. She had spent a week wondering what kissing him again might be like. This was her chance. She could kiss him and find it neither lived up to expectations, nor the now-idealized kiss in her memory. She could learn for herself what a…what did he call it? A mundane kiss. Yes. She could experience a mundane kiss and forever afterwards would be able to measure both a good and a bad kiss.

  Not that she would ever have need to judge the quality of a kiss, ever again. Yet she would know the difference, at least.

  “Very well,” she said. “Now? Here?”

  “Yes, where the world might intrude,” he said in agreement. “I can hear the newspaper boy on the corner, the traffic outside the square and I believe your cook is making a fish recipe of some kind.”

  Elise sniffed. “Sardines,” she said and giggled.

  “Most prosaic and ordinary,” he added. “Ready?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  He slid his hand under her jaw. His fingers were hot and gentle. As she drew back, he said softly, “A mere touch of the lips will not replace the old memory.”

  “I suppose, yes,” she whispered back, her heartbeats so close together they blended into a hard, hot note in her chest.

  He pressed his lips to hers. She closed her eyes.

  It really is not as pleasant as I remember, Elise told herself.

  His lips shifted against hers. Eased them open.

  He has firm lips, but they are full, so they feel soft…

  Elise realized she had put her arms around his neck—or perhaps he had done that this time, too. She hadn’t noticed. Yet it had the effect of pressing her torso against his…and, why, he was supporting her…

  When his tongue pressed inside her mouth, and swept over her own, to tease and stroke, it felt perfectly natural and right. Elise sighed into the kiss, her thoughts fading. Instead, her mind was filled with pleasantness. More. A growing heat and awareness of her whole body—just as it had done the first time.

  She was aware of her flesh and how her clothing pressed and rubbed against it, making her nerves sizzle. If mere cloth could do that, what would the touch of another do?

  She was also abruptly aware of how large a man he was. He did not carry any extra fat, yet he had a large carriage, proportionate shoulders and legs. There was strength in him, hidden beneath the Saville Row attire.

  His hand was in her hair, holding her head, as their bodies pressed tightly together. Danyal’s mouth was no longer soft against hers. It was strong, relentless. An emanation of his will? He was strong-minded—she had seen that for herself. What would it be like to be taken by a man of such iron?

  The image made her moan.

  Danyal pulled away from her, as if her moan had been a signal. He put his back to the wall of the carriage, staring at her. His hair was even more untidy now, revealing a natural curl. He breathed heavily, his black eyes narrowed.

  Elise pressed her gloved fingers to her mouth. Her lips were swollen. Yet that was not the most remarkable thing at all. The astonishing fact was the state of her body. She knew, without the need for confirmation or expert opinion, that the lethargy and heat that made all her limbs throb…and all the secret places between…that it was pure wantonness.

  She wanted Danyal. She wanted him in the way that harlots and wives did. And it did not feel wicked or immoral, either. It felt as though if he was to take her, then it would be the most sublime and fulfilling thing…

  “Oh dear…” Elise whispered, for this aching need was not supposed to have been the outcome.

  “Yes,” Danyal breathed. “An appropriate description.” He turned his chin, pulling his gaze from her. “Damn it all…” he breathed.

  Elise cleared her throat. She touched her fingers to her hair, to check for strands and loose curls. She repinned and smoothed her hair, while her heart slowed. The throbbing in her body lingered, though. It was being generated simply by sitting beside him. It was as if her extremities and her heart recognized Danyal now. They were operating independently of her wishes.

  If it was his closeness that was to blame, then clearly, she needed to remove herself from his presence.

  “Thank you for returning us home from the park, Your Highness,” she said stiffly. “I hope your audience with the Queen is successful.” She reached for the door handle.

  “Elise…” His bare fingers touched her wrist.

  That was all that was required, she realized with dismay. The merest touch of his fingers, and her pulse leapt and her body jolted. She was not aware that she was turning back, eager for more, until his mouth pressed against hers and his arm wound around her waist and pulled her up against him.

  She realized hazily that he had reached for her, too.

  That made it even better, in her confused and pleasure-drunk mind.

  This time, it was Danyal who made a deep, rumbling groan. He tore his lips from hers, gripped her waist and lifted her. He put her back on the bench, in the corner, as far away from him as possible. He pushed back into the other corner and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. His eyes seemed to burn with both anger and…lust, that is lust you can see, she told herself, her heart throwing itself wildly about in her chest.

  “We cannot pursue this,” Danyal said, his voice very low.

  “No, we cannot,” she agreed. “I am not the marrying kind…or the kind of woman that will agree to a dalliance. I’m sorry.”

  “Do not be. That quality in you makes you all the more…well, never mind,” he ended roughly. “It is enough that you are English. My people would never accept you. They are suspicious of outsiders, these days.”

  “Yes,” she said, some of the glow and warmth in her middle fading. “There is no need to explain yourself any further,” she added. “We are in agreement in this matter. Nothing further can come of this.” Even as she said it, Elise could feel regret pooling in her heart. “I have work to do,” she added, reminding herself as much as she was reminding Danyal of the wide differences in their stations in life.

  “As have I,” Danyal replied. He smoothed
his hair back into a semblance of the pristine arrangement of before, but the fine lock escaped to hang over his brow. He picked up the leather gloves and pushed his hands into them roughly. “Here, let me get the door for you–”

  “No, I can manage,” Elise said quickly, as he leaned toward the door…and her. She fumbled at the latch, tried again and pushed the door open. Carefully, her legs sluggish, she stepped onto the pavement and shut the door firmly behind her. She dared glance at him once more, then turned and moved to the front door, forcing herself not to look back again.

  When the carriage moved off, disappointment wrenched at her. There was to be no last second reprieve. He would not magically change his mind and call to her to come back.

  This was as it should be.

  It is what you want! She railed at herself.

  Elise pushed the door open and stepped into the front hall and halted, as the door swung shut behind her and clicked closed. Her heart jumped again, this time for a different reason, for Ann stood at the console table against the wall, under the hooks and umbrella stands and hat stands, as a good butler would.

  Only, Ann was not smiling pleasantly to welcome her home and take her things. Her sister’s eyes were wide, her mouth unsmiling, her expression stricken. Her eyes glistened.

  She had seen them together.

  Elise held up her hand. “It isn’t what you appear to think it is,” she said quickly.

  “No?” Ann asked, her voice strained. “Were you, or were you not, kissing him?”

  “Only to rid ourselves of a silly idea that it might be pleasant.” Elise shook her head. “He isn’t what you think, Ann. He isn’t for you—or me,” she added quickly. “Danyal wants a Macedonian wife. A Pandevanian. He didn’t realize that you considered him marriable.”

  Ann’s eyes widened. Her mouth trembled. “You’ve spoken of marriage?”

  “Only to explain how neither of us is marriable, Ann,” Elise said. “Danyal will take the time to explain this to you, too. I told him he must, for it is clear that you had the wrong impression about him. He was upset about that, Ann. He didn’t mean to mislead you.”