In The Prince's Bed (20 page)

“I can’t think of any other woman who would adapt so quickly to performing,” Alec said. “You were wonderful. And the audience loved you—I wasn’t the only one eating out of your hand.”

She eyed him askance. “I hardly think my little pantomiming compared to your spectacular riding. No wonderWellingtonwanted you to train his cavalry.” She straightened her mask. “I do wish I could ride like that.”

His hand swept up her back. “I meant what I said about teaching you. You’re a good rider. You could master the easier tricks without any trouble.”

“If I had the horse for it.” She sighed. “Even if I did, Mama would never allow it. It’s one thing for me to do something like this on a whim—it’s quite another to make a practice of it.”

“But you won’t always be under your mother’s control. If you marry me, you can do as you please.”

Her head shot around, her gaze locking with his. With a dark smile, he slid his arm to encircle her waist, but before he could do more, the maid who’d dressed Katherine earlier came running up to them from the nearby outbuilding. “Sorry, miss, but I can’t help you dress just now. I have to help the others with the finale.”

“It’s all right,” Katherine said. “I can manage on my own.”

The maid turned to Alec. “And forgive me, sir, but we need your uniform. We can make do without the breeches and Hessians, but—”

“No problem.” Alec removed the plumed hat thing, then stripped off the blue jacket, black stock, and red-and-gold sash of a dragoon officer. “Senhora Encantador is used to theatrical necessity, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He handed the uniform to the maid.

“Of course,” Katherine choked out, the sight of him in shirtsleeves making it hard for her to breathe.

“But you do look dashing in it.”

“Any man looks dashing in a uniform,” he retorted.

But no other man could look like Alec, in a uniform or out. Even after the maid scurried off, Katherine couldn’t stop staring at him in his thin linen shirt and form-fitting white breeches, his collar hanging open to reveal a few dark chest hairs.

Goodness, but he was one fine figure of a man. There’d certainly been no padding beneath
his
coat, nor did his shirt appear to hide stays like the ones Papa had worn to hold in his thick belly. It was all pure Alec.

Pure, handsome, tempting Alec.

He knew what he did to her, too, the rascal. As she stared at him, desire leaped in his face. Opening the
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door to the outbuilding, he pulled her inside and closed the door. The light of the single low-burning lamp revealed a completely deserted dressing room.

Everyone was in the finale except them. She and Alec were alone. Her heart skipped a beat as he drew her into his arms, then reached for her mask.

“No,” she whispered, staying his hand. “Let me be Senhora Encantador a while longer.” Senhora Encantador could kiss him without reproach, whereas Miss Merivale could not. “Who chose my stage name, anyway?”

“I did.” He cupped her head in his hands. “It’sPortuguese.”

As he lowered his mouth, her breath quickened. “What does it mean?”

“Enchanter,” he said in a husky whisper. “It means ‘enchanter.’ ”

Then he sealed her lips with his.

She rose to his kiss without protest. He was a cavalry officer, and she was the reckless Senhora Encantador, who wore daringly cut costumes and kissed a man in front of everybody. Besides, who could resist a man who called her “the enchanter” even though he professed to hate poetry? Especially when he commanded her mouth as if the kiss were his due. Over and over he plundered her lips, first tenderly, then ardently, fiercely, until she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but slide her arms about his waist to pull him closer. The taste of pears mingled with the scent of horses and leather to fill her senses. Not even the muted sounds of the performers milling beyond the door could dampen her excitement. When at last Alec drew back, she was too dazed to notice him reaching for her mask again. “I want to see your face, sweetheart,” he murmured as he tossed the mask onto a nearby table heaped high with bonnets, combs, and other feminine paraphernalia. “Though I must admit I like you as Senhora Encantador. And even better as Mrs. Black.”

“Don’t let Mama hear you say that,” she said, trying for nonchalance. “It’s Lady Iversley or nothing.”

The intensity of his gaze made her heart flip over. “Then Lady Iversley it is.”

When he bent his head toward her once more, she pressed him back, determined to get some answers.

“Do you mean that?”

“Why won’t you believe me?”

Her pulse thundered in time to the horses’ hooves outside as the company rode into the arena. “Why did you say a week ago that this courtship was only forSydney’s benefit?”

“You were ready to toss me out on my ear again, and I couldn’t figure out any other way to stay close to you.” His eyes shone like blue flames. “Why do you think I came toLondonin the first place? To find a wife. Believe me, from the night we met, it was marriage I wanted.”

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“You wanted to seduce me,” she breathed, though she grew less certain of that by the moment. He smiled. “I wanted both. Because I can’t keep my hands off you.” To prove it, he slid his hands back to tangle them in her scandalously undone hair.

A wanton heat settled low in her belly. “Y-You should go. I have to dress. Mama will wonder what is takingusso long back here.”

He bent his head to kiss a path down her neck. “We’ll tell her we decided to watch the finale from behind the scenes.” He nipped her earlobe. “Come now, where’s Senhora Encantador, the shameless woman with the beautiful hair?”

She shot him a skeptical look. “Mama calls it my ‘unfortunate hair.’ AndSydneythinks it’s so bold I should cover it up with a turban.”

“Don’t you dare.” As he stroked her unruly locks, the raw need burning in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I’ve wanted to see it down like this ever since we first met. I’ve wanted to touch it, to run my fingers through it…”

When he did just that, a shiver of pleasure coursed through her. Wrapping a hank of it around his hand, he kissed it, then tugged it to draw her close so he could press a slow, sweet kiss to her mouth. Then he shifted his lips to her cheek and entangled both his hands in her hair to hold her fast. “The only unfortunate thing about your hair is that you have to keep it pinned up.” He trailed warm, openmouthed kisses over her cheek to her ear. “Once we’re married, you can wear it down as much as you please.”

“I haven’t agreed to marry you yet, you know,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t really… know you.”

“You know me well enough.” He laved her ear with his tongue. She shivered deliciously. “Until tonight, I didn’t know you at all.” She drew back to stare at him. “Why did you let me think you were so wicked?”

His hungry gaze bored into her. “As I recall, I tried to tell you otherwise. You refused to believe me.” A rakish grin crossed his lips. “Besides, I
am
wicked. At least when it comes to you.”

He slid his hand beneath the edge of her bodice and chemise to caress her bare shoulder, then added in a whisper, “And you’re wicked, too, when it comes to me… Senhora Encantador.” Her pulse went positively mad as he trailed kisses over her neck.

“Senhora Encantador… disappeared when you removed… her mask,” she choked out.

“Are you sure?” Still kissing her neck, he pushed her gown off her shoulder. “Or is she just hiding behind the proper Miss Merivale?”

He was kissing her shoulder, fogging her brain, making her dizzy from the sensation of his mouth caressing her bare skin in a place no man would dare to touch. “I suppose you’ve been with many…

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senhoras?”

“Not as many as most gentlemen. There aren’t many senhoras in a cavalry camp.” He dragged one finger down her throat, into the valley between her breasts. “And certainly none so intriguing as Senhora Encantador.”

When his finger lodged beneath her bodice, she caught her breath. “Is that who you really want—the senhora?”

“I want Miss Merivale, but she refuses to be reckless and wicked with me. Perhaps the senhora could show her how?”

The idea intrigued and excited her. Now he was kissing his way down her collarbone toward her bodice… and her breasts. Would he kiss her there? Like in the pictures from the
Rhetorick
? Would it be even better than his caresses there the day of the reading?

A wild fever flashed over her at the thought. “Suppose you happened to be alone… with the senhora. What would you do with that wicked creature? Hypothetically, of course.”

He lifted his head, eyes gleaming in the dim lamplight. “Hypothetically?”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Taking her by surprise, he lifted her in his arms.

“What on earth are you doing?” Katherine grabbed at his neck to hold on as he carried her off between the open bureaus, past a scarf-draped dressmaker’s dummy, toward the back of the outbuilding. He cast her a smile rampant with mischief. “I’m taking the senhora to where we can be more comfortable.”

A laugh escaped her. “This isn’t hypothetical.”

“I need the right setting for… speculating.” He laid her on a pile of discarded costumes and cloaks, then stretched out beside her. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, determining what I would do to Senhora Encantador, that reckless female.” He grinned as he propped his head up on one arm, then laid the other over her waist. “Hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered.

One shoulder of her gown still hung down her arm, and now he snagged the shoulder of her chemise and tugged it down, too. “First, I’d do this,” he murmured, as her breast scandalously sprang free. “And then this…” He molded her naked breast in his hot palm.

Lord preserve her, it was every bit as wonderful as she remembered, every bit as naughty and thrilling. Which was why she ought to stop him. “Wouldn’t the senhora… protest such… liberties?”

“Not at all. She would expect it from her latest lover.”

“What if you were her first lover?”

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A fierce desire leaped in his face. “Then I’d have to be more careful with her… make sure I taught her how to find her pleasure. Hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, then gasped when he thumbed her nipple, sending a delicious excitement pulsing along her heightened nerves. She dug her fingers into his shirt. “The senhora is very wicked, isn’t she?”

“Curious,” he corrected her. “Adventurous. The sort of woman who will participate in an equestrian exhibition without a qualm.”

Which had whetted her appetite for more adventures. With him. And he knew it, too. Why else was he lowering his head and taking her breast in his mouth to…
ohhhh, yes… like that… goodness, what a
feeling
…

His tongue swirled over her nipple, tightening it into a knot of aching need. She fisted her hands in the night-dark waves of his hair to hold him there, and his mouth grew ravenous, sucking hard, making her squirm and yearn to feel it in other, more outrageous places—like in that naughty picture…

Oh, she was as bad as him… and she didn’t even care. This was the most thrilling thing that had ever happened to her.

The naive country girl can provide a nice change for the jaded rake’s palate. When those horrible words from the
Rake’s Rhetorick
spilled into her mind, she thrust them out determinedly. Alec wasn’t a rake—he wanted to marry her. He’d made that very clear.

“You taste so damned good,” he murmured as he lifted his head. “And I’ve wanted to taste and touch you like this for so long.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “And when do I get to taste and touch you?” She was
not
a naive country girl he wanted for his “jaded palate.” She was
not
. Alec reacted instantly to her bold words; heat leaped in his face as he sat up. “Whenever you please, senhora.” He dragged his shirt off so quickly that his cuff buttons popped off. “
Now
, if you want.”

Katherine’s mouth went dry. Lord preserve her, he was every bit as handsome as those strutting men in the pictures—thickly muscled, leanly built, and hairy.

She was still drinking in the astonishing sight of him bare-chested when he lay back down, grabbed her hand, and flattened it on his chest. “I would give a king’s ransom to have you touch me.”

The yearning in his face convinced her as nothing else could have. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his chest, reveling in his sharp intake of breath. Remembering how good his mouth on her breast had felt, she swirled her tongue around his flat male nipple. “And what will you give me for tasting you, Captain Black?” she teased. With a growl, he pressed her head to his chest and closed his eyes. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

Further emboldened, Katherine took her time exploring his chest, marveling at how the rough velvet of
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his flesh leaped and flexed when she flicked her tongue or stroked her fingers over it. The senhora had taken her over, and she had no will to fight her. The whole night already seemed like one long dream, and the unfamiliar scents of sawdust and leather on his skin added to her feeling of unreality. Not even the muffled drumbeats coming from the amphitheatre could drag her from the heady spell.

Until his hand caught the hem of her gown and dragged it up to bare her thighs. Coming to her senses in a rush of panic, she jerked her head from his chest.

“Alec, you mustn’t—”

“I only want to touch you.” His hot blue gaze seared her. “A little touching, that’s all.” He skimmed his hand up the inside of her thighs, making her gasp. “Don’t you want to see what I’d do next to Senhora Encantador? Hypothetically?”