The Trouble With Princesses (26 page)

“Is that bad?”

“No. It’ll be fine, Ariadne.” He kissed her mouth, though she feared he did it as a way to distract her.

Luckily it worked, leaving her dreamy and desirous again. At least until he rocked his hips and thrust into her again, his efforts gaining him another inch.

An inch that hurt—worse than his fingers.

She must have let out a whimper of pain, since he stilled and kissed her again. A sheen of perspiration damped his brow and he trembled, clearly striving to maintain his control.

She’d thought their joining would be so easy, so natural—but he was so big. “We’re not going to fit, are we?” she whispered.

“Of course we are. But I think it might be better if we do this fast rather than slow.”

Before she had time to debate the wisdom of that suggestion, he slid his hands under her bottom and locked her in place. Then he plunged, thrusting into her with one smooth, powerful stroke that forced his erection deep inside.

Too deep.

She cried out, bucking against him in an instinctive effort to throw him off, but her move only succeeded in lodging him deeper, her tender flesh feeling as if it were stretched beyond its limits. She groaned and pressed her hands against his shoulders, but there was no budging him. He wasn’t going anywhere he didn’t want to go.

“Shh,”
he soothed, claiming her mouth in another long kiss. As he did, he slid one hand up to pet her breasts again in just the way she liked. Slowly the pain began to subside, her muscles somehow starting to accommodate his intrusion.

She gasped when he pulled back, nearly all the way out, then gasped again when he thrust firmly inside her once more. He did it again, pulling back, then plunging in, quietly establishing a rhythm.

Taking hold of one of her thighs, he urged her to wrap her legs around his waist. She obeyed, burying her face in his neck as she curled her arms and legs around him to hold on.

Once she did, she noticed that he added a new movement, circling his hips on each incoming thrust so that his shaft began to stroke her in the most delicious way.

A new sound, one of pleasure this time, soughed from between her lips. Her body responded without her express will, and she began to arch her hips in time to meet each of his thrusts.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he said, encouraging her. “Just like that. Exactly like that. Do you want me deeper?”

And she did, her nails digging into his back as she pressed herself forward to take even more. “Yes! More, Rupert. Harder. Deeper.”

He groaned and did precisely as she asked, increasing his pace so that he thrust into her with a kind of frenzy.

She repeated his name over and over, crying out with each fresh stroke, taking him into her body as fully as he could go.

And it was heaven and hell combined, every moment better than the one before, hunger lashing her until she thought she would surely die if it were not satisfied.

Then, without warning the world seemed to teeter, knocking her off the precipice and over into the void. She cried out as ecstasy burst within her like a golden sun, ripples of pleasure spreading through her until she shuddered from the sheer beauty and brilliance of it.

How could I have existed without this?
she wondered.
How will I exist if I can’t have it again?

Above her Rupert continued to thrust, his skin hot and slick with his efforts. Abruptly he stiffened and shook, shouting out in pleasure against his fierce release.

Then he sank down upon her, pressing her tightly beneath him. She lay, feeling protected and happy, not the least bit crushed by his weight.

Hugging him closer, she fit her cheek against his and savored the moment, knowing it was one she would never want to forget, not even if she were to live forever.

•   •   •

Ariadne awakened the next morning with a smile on her face. She stretched her arms over her head, her muscles quietly protesting, along with a few other delicate internal parts. But she didn’t mind the minor soreness; the night had been more than worth it.

“Good morning,” Rupert greeted her in a whiskied baritone.

Her smile widened as she rolled toward him. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“I did.” He regarded her from where he lay with one arm bent behind his head. “For a couple of hours at least. As I recall, someone woke me up.”

She trailed her hand over his chest. “
Hmm
, I wonder who that might have been.” Leaning up, she kissed him, lingering for a span of several slow heartbeats.

He stroked a palm over her bare back, stopping to splay his fingers against the base of her spine. “Regrets?”

“No.” Her pulse gave a sudden thud, a splinter of concern wedging itself inside her happiness.
Why would he ask such a question?
“You?”

The eyes that met hers were deeply blue and deeply introspective. Then he blinked the look away. “No. No regrets.”

Spearing his fingers into her hair, he pulled her down for another kiss, taking her lips with a fervent, openmouthed intensity that left her mind adrift and her body aching to be joined with his once more.

Instead, he let her go. “It’s late. We should be up and on the road.”

“Oh.” She blinked and sat up at his urging. “Yes, I suppose we ought.”

Flipping back his side of the covers, he stood and went to retrieve his drawers.

Despite her dismay at his abrupt dismissal, she couldn’t help but admire the view as he tugged them on, the muscles in his tight buttocks flexing with the movement. Next, he picked up his dressing gown and threaded his arms through the sleeves, then tied it closed with the belt.

“I’ll ring for the maid to attend you.” He thrust his feet into his slippers. “Shall I have breakfast sent in as well? It would be faster.”

She pulled the sheets up over her bare breasts. “If that is what you prefer.”

With a nod, he went to the door and let himself out.

She sat, unmoving, irritation gathering like a black cloud to smother her buoyant mood. Was he always so foul-tempered when he awakened, or had he decided to make this a special occasion? Since in the past, he’d always left her bed before dawn, she had no way of knowing.

She beat her fists on the sheets.

How dare he ruin my happy day.

But then she noticed the height of the sun in the sky, realizing that the hour was far more advanced than she had imagined. Maybe he was only concerned about the travel schedule and being able to reach London tonight. Men could be so annoyingly single-minded and dour about such things. Perhaps she shouldn’t assume his grumpy humor had anything to do with her.

He did kiss me, after all.

Passionately and with obvious enjoyment.

Maybe he was tired and just needed a cup of strong coffee. She would be the first to admit that neither one of them had managed much sleep.

Her body tingled pleasurably at the reminder.

Yawning, she climbed out of bed, only then noticing the dried streaks of blood smeared on her inner thighs. When she glanced back, she saw that more blood stained the sheets, vivid proof of her lost virginity.

Is that what he’d meant about regrets? Had he worried that she minded giving herself to him after all?

Well, she didn’t. Her innocence had been hers to give and she’d given it freely.

No,
she thought again,
I have nothing to repine. I have no regrets.

•   •   •

Rupert poured water into the basin, then wet a rag and used it to cleanse Ariadne’s virgin blood from his shaft.

He scowled, realizing that just that simple act and the thought of her were enough to make him aroused again. He almost wished he’d taken advantage of her warm greeting while they’d been in bed and tupped her again. She wouldn’t have refused him. Instead, she would have opened her arms and legs and welcomed him, letting him appease his lust while he roused her again to pleasure.

Still, he’d made a cock-up of all his plans—rather literally, as it happened. He’d been impulsive and unwise, allowing his animal appetites to rule his pragmatic head. Allowing himself to do what he wanted rather than what was best.

Even knowing all that, though, he could not regret their lovemaking.

Besides, it was done now and there was no point crying because the cow had kicked over the milk bucket. He had always been one to accept his responsibility and he would do so now.

What will Ariadne think?

Well, that no longer mattered either. She’d made her choices too. Now she would have to live with them.

A knock sounded at the door. Sorely in need of food and coffee, he went to retrieve his breakfast.

Chapter Twenty-three

“O
h, thank God, you’re back!”

Ariadne had barely made it over the threshold of Lyndhurst House when Emma rushed forward to envelop her in a fierce hug.

“I’ve been so worried,” Emma exclaimed. “Tell me you’re well. Assure me you are all right.”

Ariadne laughed and returned her friend’s heartfelt embrace. “Yes, I’m fine. Scarcely the worse for wear, despite having traveled halfway across England and back.”

Beside her, Rupert scowled at his sister. “You had my note, did you not?”

“We did, yes,” Nick offered helpfully, stepping forward with a smile on his attractive features. “It came as a great relief, even if it did not keep Emma from continuing to fret.”

“How could I do anything but worry when our dear Ariadne had been kidnapped, of all things?” Emma said. “Thank you, dear brother, for bringing her safely home.”

“It was my pleasure.” He met Ariadne’s gaze over the top of his sister’s blond head and sent her a faint smile.

Ariadne understood his secret message, her heart racing. It was the first time he’d smiled at her the whole day. Their journey home had been quiet and tediously uneventful. She’d hoped he might start something amorous in the coach on the way home, but after only one brief kiss around the halfway point, he’d set her aside and taken out a book.

She’d done her best not to be cross, deciding he must not want to begin something he couldn’t finish, especially with the servants so nearby. And so she’d closed her eyes and surprised herself by falling asleep.

She’d been pleased to wake up in his arms, though, her face nestled into his wide shoulder. She couldn’t remember having moved toward him, but somehow that was where she ended up.

Safe in his embrace, where I belong.

She frowned at that thought and was glad when Emma chose to hook her arm through one of Ariadne’s and steer her toward the staircase.

“Come along to the family drawing room,” Emma said. “You can tell me everything while you eat. I know you both must be famished and exhausted after such a long trip.”

In tandem, they started up the stairs, the men following behind.

“Unless you’d like to wash and change beforehand,” Emma continued. “Oh, but of course you would. Only listen to me—excess nerves are apparently making me prattle. If I’m not careful Nick will cast me aside for fear I am turning into his aunt Felicity. Not that she isn’t a dear, but she does have a habit of rattling on and on.”

Having reached the landing, the four of them stopped, Ariadne and Rupert deciding to repair to their separate rooms.

Nick strolled over and took his wife’s hand. “I would never cast you aside, love, you know that—no matter how much you decide you wish to talk. Still, one Felicity in the family is unique. Two could be . . . a bit scary.”

As Emma laughed, he leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “Let’s go arrange for that meal while your brother and Ariadne take a few minutes to refresh themselves.”

“Yes, your maid and valet will already be waiting,” Emma said. “Do not be too long.”

Ariadne smiled, an odd suspicion forming. Surely Emma couldn’t be expecting again already? But as soon as she thought the question, she realized it was very possible indeed. Nick was being extra gentle with her, and she’d been around Emma enough to recognize a pattern of sorts. Her friend tended to lose a bit of her usual steady aplomb in those first few weeks of pregnancy.

As Nick and Emma turned to stroll down the corridor, Ariadne saw Rupert’s expression and could tell he was wondering the same thing.

Then his gaze met hers. This time he did not smile, a deadly serious look in his eyes.

Surely he doesn’t imagine that I am with child? After only one time!

But from what she’d heard, sometimes one time was all it took.

She swallowed and fought the urge to squirm.

“Go change,” he told her. “I shall see you shortly.”

She nodded and moved off down the corridor to her room.

•   •   •

Two hours later, Rupert and Ariadne and Nick and Emma sat across from each other on cozy sofas in the family drawing room.

After retreating to her bedchamber, Ariadne had washed, then changed into a comfortable evening-at-home gown of sapphire silk and a pair of matching slippers.

In his own rooms, Rupert had bathed and shaved and allowed his valet to assist him into a fresh evening coat and black trousers.

By the time they rejoined Emma and Nick, a wonderful cold meal had been laid for them. Among the many selections were rabbit pie, chicken and beef sandwiches, tender summer lettuce with watercress, parsley, pickled radishes and ruby red beets, ice-chilled peeled shrimp and lobster claws with mayonnaise dill dressing, rose-hip jelly and lemon conserves, yeast rolls, cheeses, fresh blackberries, nuts, and for dessert a selection of tiny cakes and a spiced carrot pudding.

While they ate, the four of them confined the conversation to pleasant topics, even though Ariadne knew that Emma—and Nick, for that matter—were dying to hear all about Ariadne’s abduction and the mad dash to rescue her.

Once the plates were cleared and the servants gone from the room, Emma demanded the tale. Over tea for Ariadne and a glass of wine for Rupert, they each gave their version of events.

“And you really stabbed Selkirk with a fork?” Emma repeated, her blue eyes wide with astonishment.