Always a Princess (19 page)

“But you can. And you must. And you will.” He moved lower, kissing her belly while still stroking her breasts with his hands.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Your thighs. I must kiss your thighs.”

“But you can’t, I’ll come apart. I won’t survive it.”

“You’re wrong there, love. We’ll both survive and come out of this very much alive.”

“Oh, dear heaven.”

He lowered himself even farther. “Now, be a good girl and open your legs for me.”

She complied, giving him a glimpse of heaven. Soft, plump thighs of pale ivory and at their joining, the ebony curls that covered her sex. The sight could make a grown man weep. But Philip had far better things to do than cry.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, and she jerked upward. She tried to bring her legs together, but he held them apart. “Easy, love. This won’t hurt.”

“It’s naughty.”

“It’s sublime. Trust me.” He kissed the other thigh and nibbled gently at her flesh. She sighed and went limp against the mattress, giving him access to that most intimate part of her. He blew a hot breath onto the curling hairs there and then placed his mouth over her sex. She moaned, a sound of pure pleasure.

He lifted his head briefly. “How does that feel?”

“It feels as though I’ll explode.”

“You will.” He turned his attention back to her sex, parted the lips and found her swollen nub. When he touched it with his tongue, she cried out and arched her back. He held on to her hips and feasted on her as she alternately moaned and gasped for breath. In a moment, she’d reach completion.

Her passion spurred his own, and his rock-hard member throbbed until he ached to bury himself in her. He would wait for her, though. He must. Somehow.

She climaxed with a rush and a string of little cries. He kept up the pressure with his tongue until she collapsed against the coverlet and her cries turned to sobs. Then he lay beside her and took her into his arms.

“Oh, my,” she whispered sleepily. “I never dreamed…”

“Do you see what I meant about passion?”

She opened her eyes and gave him a wicked smile. “Can I do the same for you?”

The mere thought almost sent him over the edge. “Some other time. Today is for you.”

“But I want to touch you,” she said. “Your lingam, your…”

“My rod,” he supplied.

“Your Long Tom,” she said.

“He’d be very much obliged, I’m sure.” But Long Tom wouldn’t last long. He was too far gone for much more without spending himself.

She raised herself on one elbow and curled her fingers around his sex. “Like this?”

“Oh, yes,” he gritted. “Just like that.”

“And here?” she said as she squeezed the tip of him.

He placed his hand over hers and showed her the rhythm to stroke him. A very quick study, she grasped him firmly and in no time had him soaring near the edge.

“It’s very large, isn’t it?” she said.

Beyond reason now, he could only groan in response.

“And the head has turned a bright crimson. I think I’d like…”

What? Anything. Anything.

“I think I’d like to ride it,” she said. “To take it all inside me.”

“Please,” he groaned.

She rose and swung a leg over him, guiding herself onto his throbbing hardness. Slowly. One agonizing inch at a time. He watched as his swollen member disappeared inside her body. Driven past endurance, he thrust violently upward, impaling her completely. Over and over, he drove himself into her hot and welcoming flesh. He had to make this last, and yet he couldn’t. Such joy, such passion. He had to hold on, had to. And yet he’d spend at any moment.

She rested her palms against his stomach and closed her eyes in bliss. “Yes,” she cried, as she rocked back and forth in time with his thrusts. “Yes, yes, oh yes.”

He placed his thumb at the place where they were joined and stroked her until she shuddered against him.

“Now,” she screamed as her spasms clutched at him. He held her hips and slammed into her as his own climax overtook him. Helpless to resist, he spilled wave after wave of his essence into her as her body milked him. Beauty, heaven, bliss. Everything he’d ever wanted in his life in this one perfect moment. This one perfect woman.

Finally, when they were both spent, he pulled her back onto him and cradled her head against his chest.

As Eve rested her head against her lover, he reached a hand to her head and stroked his fingers lazily through her hair.

“By God, but we suit,” he whispered. “Making love has never been like that for me before.”

She drew a circle on his chest with her fingertip. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

He chuckled, and the sound reverberated through his chest into her ear. “You can take it on the authority of a man who knows. We’re uncanny together. Quite beyond normal mortal experience.”

She raised her head and looked into his face. “And would you be that man who knows?”

“I’ve bedded a few women in my sorry existence.” The light in his eyes softened as he smiled at her—the golden flecks mellowing to the color of ripe wheat. “That was most remarkable, Miss Stanhope.”

“So happy to oblige, Lord Wesley.”

There, she’d said that breezily enough. Keep this to a joke. Light, lacking gravity. She’d surrendered to him twice now. Wrong—surrendered to her need for him. It amounted to the same thing, though, which was nothing at all. No more than lust that would lead nowhere.

She sighed and tried to sit up, but his arms went around her, holding her right where she was.

“Why do you always pull away from me?” he asked.

“We’re through studying Eastern philosophy, aren’t we?” she said. “Or do you require my services further, my lord?”

He huffed. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it.”

“I thought you liked what I did.”

“During sex, yes, but the minute it’s over you become absolutely infuriating.”

“I’m very sorry, I’m sure.” This time, he let her up, and she swung her legs around the side of the bed, even though her feet didn’t touch the floor.

“Why do you keep pulling away from me?” he demanded where he lay behind her.

She didn’t answer that. If she did, she’d have to listen to his voice change when he learned the parentage of the woman he’d let into his bed. He might be more liberal-minded than the rest of his sort, but even he would have to realize they could never be a couple. She wouldn’t even make good mistress material, when you got right down to it.

“Damn it, woman, don’t I mean anything to you at all?” he said.

“You’re very good in bed.”

He sat up beside her at the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the comforter on either side of him. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Of course, you do. You’re magnificent.”

“I’ve offered to marry you, and you’re trifling with me.”

“You took my virginity and offered to marry me,” she said. “All very decent. What a scrupulous fellow does. I’ve turned you down. Your responsibility ends there.”

“Bloody hell.” He got up and searched about until he found his trousers. Not bothering with underthings, he stepped into them and yanked them up. “How can you make me sound like such a cold bastard?”

“I’m not.” She rubbed her hands over her face before looking up at him again. “You did the right thing…more than some men would have. We needn’t go any further than that.”

“I’m going to continue to make love to you at every opportunity.” He located his shirt and pulled it over his head.

“If you do…”

“I will,” he declared.

“That won’t change anything.” She’d have to find the strength to stop him, assuming she could keep herself from seeking him out for sex.

He gathered up his waistcoat and jacket. “You’re hiding something from me.”

“Don’t assume too much.”

“I don’t have to assume anything. I can see it on your face.”

He saw entirely too much. She’d allowed him to, and now, where had that gotten her? She hugged herself and kept her thoughts to herself.

“I don’t like secrets, and the more I think about it, the more obvious it becomes that you’ve told me absolutely nothing about yourself.”

“I told you about being a governess,” she said.

“You weren’t created a governess. You had to be born to someone and raised somewhere. You must have gone to school.”

“That last, I didn’t.”

“All right then, let’s have the rest of it. Start with your parents.”

She got up to find her own clothes, or to be totally honest, to avoid looking at him. “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean, I’m not going to tell you.”

“Why in hell not?” he shouted.

“For heaven’s sake, you’re not going to marry me, so it’s not important.”

“I’ll decide what’s important.”

“You won’t get anything out of me by browbeating.”

He made a strangled sort of noise. “Lord spare me, now she says I’m browbeating her.”

She turned to face him, clutching her dress against her body. “You sound like a puffed-up, little dictator who isn’t getting his way.”

“Don’t test me, Eve,” he said quietly, but the hush in his voice held more menace than his earlier bluster.

“Don’t order me about.”

“Well enough.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I have only so much patience. You can give me your story or not, but I won’t wait forever.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll leave you to dress yourself.” He grabbed the rest of his clothing and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

She let out a long breath and sat on the bed. That was it, then. Notice that all this would come to an end. It had to, after all. Finally, when he’d realized that she wouldn’t reveal any more of herself, he’d give her her share of the Wonder and the diamond necklace. He’d have to. A man who offered marriage to a casual tumble because she’d turned out to be a virgin wouldn’t cheat his partner in crime out of what he owed her. On top of that, she still had Mrs. Cathcart’s cameo.

He’d pay her. She’d take Hubert and go away. What she’d wanted all along. Suddenly, it didn’t seem quite as satisfactory as she’d expected.

Next to the constable himself, the last person Philip had hoped to find in the sitting room was that odious fellow, Cathcart. Mobley had announced the visitor had come to see the princess, but Philip had demanded to accompany Eve to the sitting room. Cathcart was part of her secrets, and she wasn’t going to keep any more from him if he had anything to say about it. Besides, two heads were better than one. Depending on what the fool had figured out, they might need all their wits.

For Eve’s part, she seemed perfectly happy to have him along and more than a little worried about Cathcart’s appearance. People of his station didn’t show up uninvited at an earl’s home unless they had important business with the occupants.

The butler hovered nearby as they reached the sitting room door, waiting to protect his lord and the family, no doubt.

“Thank you, Mobley,” Philip said. “That’ll be all.”

Mobley didn’t move from the spot. “If I may be of assistance, sir…”

“We’ll muddle through on our own, won’t we, Your Highness?”

“My, yes. Just so.”

Mobley gave them one more dour glance and headed off. Alone with Eve now, he placed his hand at the small of her back to ease her. “You really must relax.”

“Easily said,” she replied. “Arthur recognized me at that party.”

“There were lots of people at that affair.”

“Only one Eve Stanhope, and she disappeared at the same time as a diamond necklace.”

She had a point, but surely, the two of them together could out-think the likes of Arthur Cathcart. “Let’s go in and beard the lion in his den.”

“Very funny.”

Cathcart had the decency to rise from his seat when they entered. He stood with his hands behind his back and grinned at them as though they were all the best of friends. “Hallo, there, Wesley. Eve.”

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“Is that any way to greet an old chum?” Cathcart said.

“What do you want?” Philip echoed.

“I must say I expected better of you, old chap,” Cathcart said. “You’re better bred than Eve, after all.”

“What do you know of my breeding?” she said softly.

“Plenty,” the man said. “But, we’ll save that for later.”

Eve’s gaze shot daggers at him. “I swear to God, Arthur…”

“Tut, tut, tut.” Cathcart wagged a finger at her. “Business first. Threats later.”

Enough nonsense. Philip walked to the man, clapped him on the shoulder and dug his fingertips into the fool’s flesh. “Well, Arthur, old chum, old thing, old bean. What is it you want?”

“The two of you have been rather naughty, eh, what?”

“Out with it,” Philip said between clenched teeth.

“The other night, I thought pretending to be a princess was part of Eve’s costume, but I soon learned she’s been playing herself off as foreign royalty about town for some time.” Cathcart very pointedly removed Philip’s hand from his shoulder.

Eve gripped the chair beside her with her fist. “That’s none of your business.”

“And it seems that when the princess appears at parties, jewelry disappears.” Cathcart grinned again, apparently pleased with his attempt at humor. “It so happens a valuable cameo disappeared from my mother’s jewels while she worked for my father.”

“You know I didn’t take that cameo,” she said.

“I know you have it now,” Cathcart said. “You confessed as much.”

“You’re a lying, thieving, son of a mongrel…”

“Easy, Eve,” Philip said. “I’ll handle this.”

“And then, there’s you, Lord Wesley.” Cathcart gave him an unctuous smile. “When you and the princess appear together, very valuable jewels go poof.”

“Poof?” The man truly was an idiot.

“Poof,” Cathcart repeated, spreading his fingers the way a magician did to show he had nothing in his hand. “That fellow Chumley suspects you, but he can’t prove anything.”

“How do you know what Chumley suspects?” Philip asked.

“Let’s just say I know some parts of town you don’t, your lordship,” Cathcart said. “Word gets ’round in those places.”

Eve turned pale. “What places?”

Cathcart’s grin turned evil. “In good time, Evie.”

Something hung between the two of them. Some kind of communication that shut Philip out. Again. That would come to an end the moment he finished with Cathcart and showed him the door.

“If Chumley were to find out the princess was really…”

“Don’t say it, Arthur,” Eve nearly spat at him.

“…an imposter, a commoner,” Cathcart went on, “he wouldn’t hesitate to throw her into Newgate until she confessed to everything.”

They all stood in silence for a moment. Cathcart had them, a fact even he couldn’t fail to appreciate. He’d have to bargain with this devil, but simple blackmail wouldn’t work. If he paid the man off once, he’d come back for more again and again. Philip would have to turn the whole thing back on Cathcart somehow. Implicate him somehow.

“So, I imagine it’d be worth something to the two of you to keep me from revealing the princess’s true identity,” Cathcart said after a bit.

“You want money,” Philip said.

“Oh, yes, and lots of it,” Cathcart said. “You noble chappies are steeped in it up to the gills.”

“A bit of a sticky wicket there, I’m afraid,” Philip said. “I haven’t any.”

“I say.” Cathcart recoiled, actually reeling back on his heels. “I don’t believe that.”

“I sold the jewels to cover my own debts.” He sent Eve a warning glance. “Gaming, don’t you know, and buying baubles for the princess.”

“But your father…the earl…” Cathcart sputtered.

“I can’t ask him for money, at least, not enough to satisfy your needs.”

“You can get enough,” Cathcart said. “I know you can.”

“There is one way.” One desperate way, but he’d take it. “Having settled all my accounts, I’d planned to end my stealing ways, but we might take one more gem and turn the proceeds over to you.”

“What?” Eve said. “Are you mad? We can’t do that.”

“I know what you’re thinking, my dear, but with Mr. Cathcart’s help, I think we might prevail.”

“Him?” She pointed at the man, her voice rising. “You
are
insane.”

“Now, now.”

“See here. I don’t know anything about stealing,” Cathcart said.

“That isn’t exactly true, is it?” Philip said. “The cameo?”

“That’s different.” The man huffed a few times. “I mean…I say…”

“Nothing to it,” Philip said. “You go to a soiree, slip into a study or a bedroom, pinch the jewel and be on your way.”

“It can’t be that easy.”

“Eve and I have been doing it, and we’re amateurs.”

Cathcart hesitated, looking from Philip to Eve and back. He didn’t like the idea. Who could blame him? But, if he believed Philip’s story about not having any money, he’d have to consider the offer.

Philip gave him a bit more time to stew about it and then smiled. “That’s my offer. You can take it or not.”

“I’d get all the spoils,” Cathcart said.

“Every penny.” And every bit of the blame if Philip could work things right.

“We’d take something very expensive?” Cathcart asked.

“Something glorious.” And on a lower floor than the last time so it wouldn’t require climbing over a roof.

“All right,” Cathcart concluded. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll take care of that part. When I have an invitation to a ball sent to you, be prepared to go into action.”

“Right.” The man actually cheered up, as if looking forward to the adventure. If he weren’t such a loathsome toad, Philip might have felt some sympathy for him.

“One thing before I leave, old man,” Cathcart said. “I think you ought to know who you’ve welcomed under your roof.”

Eve wavered, holding onto the chair for support. “Don’t, Arthur. You don’t have to. There’s no point.”

“Now that we’re all partners, we should be honest with each other.”

“Please.” She was begging now. Philip had never heard her beg for anything.

“Evie here’s known in Whitechapel.”

“What are you talking about?” Philip demanded. The place was a blighted area of London famous for all kinds of filthy goings-on.

“Remembered, rather,” Cathcart said. “Her mother was rather notorious.”

Every bit of color drained out of Eve’s skin. “Oh, God.”

“Society calls women like that ‘unfortunates’ these days,” Cathcart said.

The truth hit Philip like a punch to his stomach. Unfortunates. Eve’s mother. Unbelievable.

“Our little darling here is the daughter of a whore,” Cathcart said finally.

Eve crumbled. Positively fell in on herself, sinking onto the chair with a moan. She’d always been a tiny thing. Now, she looked as if she could disappear into a seam in the upholstery.

“So you see…” Cathcart said.

“Get out,” Philip ordered.

“I’ll find my way, eh, what?”

“Do it.”

Somehow, the bastard left them. The door closed behind him, the sound barely registering in Philip’s brain. He could only stand and stare at the woman he’d come to care for, perhaps love. She’d had a secret this big and hadn’t trusted him with it.

“Are you terribly angry?” she asked him in a small voice.

“I have every right to be.” Although cold and dead might better describe how he felt. All this time, after everything they’d been through together, she’d made sure he had no idea who she really was.

She stared down at her hands. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“I don’t see why not.”

She finally looked up at him, her green eyes huge in her face. “Because of the reaction you’re having right now.”

“I? You fault me for my reaction?”

“It’s what I’d expect,” she said, a bit of color returning to her cheeks. “You’re a viscount, the heir to an earldom. I’m the daughter of a whore. I might have been a whore myself, for all you knew.”

“Don’t be idiotic. I took your virginity.” Oh, dear God. The room tilted around him. He’d done the worst thing a man could do to a woman—steal her innocence when he had no right to it. Somehow, he’d reconciled that in his mind by creating a fantasy that he’d marry her someday. Somehow. Hard enough with a disgraced governess with no identity to speak of. This…bloody hell…this was too much. It really was.

“You see I’m right,” she said.

He glowered at her.

“Not about actually me becoming a whore. I’d rather starve,” she said. “But the other—that neither you nor my family could tolerate a connection with someone like me.”

“You should have told me.”

“And miss all this?” Her voice broke as she gestured around her. “The dresses, the parties, the pleasures of…”

The words didn’t leave her mouth, but they both knew what she meant. The pleasures of his body, of his bed. So intense, transcendent. So dishonest.

She rose. “I’ll leave this house immediately, of course.”

“Like hell, you will. We have one more theft to commit.”

“You can’t have meant that seriously.” She gaped at him. “Take Arthur along while we steal someone’s jewels?”

“I’m deadly serious.”

“He’ll ruin everything,” she shouted. “He’ll get us all caught.”

“Let me worry about that.”

“You’re planning something,” she said. “Tell me.”

“From now on, I’ll tell you what I please, Miss Stanhope. No more.”

She brought her hand up to her throat. “Miss?”

“I’ll have as little trust in you as you did in me.”

“I couldn’t tell you,” she whispered. The same, old excuse. “I couldn’t.”

“So you say.” Before he said something he couldn’t take back, he turned on his heel and left the room, looking for something to smash.

Eve studied Philip’s profile as the carriage rolled along, taking them to their doom. Actually, they were headed to a party. Their doom would come later.

For a week, he’d hardly spoken to her. In reality, she’d scarcely seen him except for meals, which were even more awkward than his absences as his mother often commented on his silence and tried without much success to draw him into pleasant conversation. Though he remained as devilishly handsome as ever, his behavior was anything but pleasant.

The carriage tipped briefly, tossing her in his direction. Their shoulders touched until the coach righted itself. He did nothing to keep her next to him, although he did finally glance at her. The expression in his eyes sent her shooing back to her end of the seat.

She deserved this treatment, of course. She shouldn’t have kept secrets from him. She hadn’t given much thought to how it would feel to lose the laughter in his eyes or his easy intimacy. She knew now—a leaden weight around her heart.

“I know you’re angry with me,” she said. “But at least, you can tell me what I’m supposed to do tonight.”

He sighed. “We’re going to steal a sapphire tiara. I have good reason to believe that Lord Linwood keeps it in his safe because his wife is prone to losing things.”

“And, do you have a plan for how we get out without getting caught?”

“Perhaps. Do you trust me?”

Trust. She could easily learn to hate that word, given the way he used it like a cudgel. Still, she had kept secrets from him. Who would have guessed it meant that much to him?

“Yes, I trust you,” she said because anything else would earn her more anger.

The ice around his jaw thawed a bit, and for a moment, she got a glimpse of the rogue who’d first confronted her in Lady Bainbridge’s bedroom. A mask settled over his features as they pulled up in front of the house.

He helped her out of the carriage with all the practiced courtesy of his set. An onlooker would never guess that he was furious with her. Or that he’d bedded her twice.

Inside, the party had already started some time before they arrived. All the better for them to blend into the crowd without calling too much attention to themselves. Chumley had his men scattered about as they were at the costume ball. The same fluttering started up in her stomach as on that evening.

“I say, jolly good party,” came the nasal twang from behind her. She jumped and turned, but she didn’t have to in order to realize Arthur Cathcart had arrived.

“Just a pipping good time, eh, what?”

“For heaven’s sake, lower your voice,” she whispered.

“Just making pleasant noises,” Arthur said. “Fitting in, don’t you know?”