The Trouble With Princesses (8 page)

Not that she wanted him to touch her; she most certainly did not. It was mortifying enough that she was still awakening some mornings with the memory of his kisses on her lips. All she wanted was for him to respect her wishes and let her live her life as she chose.

If only he would stop trying to interfere! Honestly, she didn’t know why he was being so overbearing. It wasn’t as if she was a part of his family.

But Emma was.

And therein lay the crux of the problem. What should have been her reputation to ruin, or not, as she chose, had gotten all muddled up with Emma’s reputation and, by extension, Rupert’s own.

As prince regent and future king of Rosewald, he had standards to maintain, rules that must not be broken, in his regal estimation. Since she was so set on breaking them, he was now set on stopping her.

He claimed he cared about her safety, and perhaps in some respects he did. Still she suspected his motives went deeper and were bound up not just in Emma’s reputation, but in an annoying determination to exert his power over her.

If only he had gone home when he’d originally planned, her life would now be heaven. Instead, he’d turned her world into one frustration after another, interrupting her at the most inconvenient times, intimidating all but her most persistent suitors.

Honestly, he was worse than a Spanish duenna.

If she didn’t get rid of him soon, the Season would be over and so would her chance to secure a lover.

Which was precisely what he wanted.

But Rupert sadly underestimated her if he thought she would be so easily discouraged. She would find a way around him. She just had to come up with a plan.

For today, though, she was simply hoping for a respite, an activity designed strictly for her own enjoyment and edification. Over the past few weeks, she had missed several intriguing lectures given by the literary and intellectual club to which she belonged. When she had received the invitation to hear a talk on the natural rights of women and the tyranny of traditional marriage, she realized it would be the perfect way to spend a free afternoon.

A
Rupert
-free afternoon!

For surely even he would not wish to listen to a lengthy discussion of modernist notions about the role and place of women.

A short while later, the coach rolled to a stop in front of a small but well-kept town house in Bloomsbury. This section of London was decidedly middle class and not at all the usual kind of neighborhood a member of the
Ton
would visit, especially a princess. But she prided herself on her open mind about such petty distinctions, relishing the sense of independence she always experienced when she came to one of the lectures in this part of the city. Here she could be among like-minded individuals, who valued others for the sharpness of their minds rather than for the weight of their pocketbooks or the fashionable quality of their attire.

Once inside, she greeted a few acquaintances, accepted a cup of hot, sweet tea, then took a seat in the back of the drawing room, as was her habit. This afternoon’s speaker was a female writer and lecturer who had traveled extensively throughout Europe seeking to understand the status of women in various cultures and find universal themes and solutions for their intellectual and economic enslavement.

Ariadne opened her blue silk reticule and took out a pencil and paper. She listened attentively as the lecture began, making notes now and then on her pad.

Nearly an hour later, her tea was long gone and her pad and pencil lay idle in her lap. She repressed the need to yawn, opening her eyes wider and wishing the room weren’t quite so warm.

She sensed someone slipping into one of the seats in the row of chairs behind her. She did not turn, but forced herself to sit up straighter and refocus on the speaker as the woman launched into a detailed comparison of the educational levels of females in southern versus northern European regions.

“Are these things always this dull?” mused a rich masculine voice near her ear, “or is this one just particularly deadly?”

She stiffened and whipped her head around to find Rupert leaning forward in his seat, his arms folded casually atop the back of the chair beside her.

Her lethargy disappeared. “What are you doing here?” she said under her breath.

Devil take it. Was there nowhere she could be safe from him?

He shrugged. “I had a spare hour. I thought I’d see what was so interesting that you would come halfway across Town for it. From what I’ve heard, you would have had more fun staying home and taking a nap.”

“This is an intellectual discussion. Just because the subject is not to your liking does not make it unworthy.” As for its excitement level, she refused to comment. Not everyone could be counted upon to be a scintillating speaker.

“It still sounds like a great load of trifle to me.”

“Then why do you not go away?” she shot back, careful to keep her voice down.

“And miss an opportunity to watch you try to keep your eyes open? I’ve rarely been so entertained.”

Just how long had he been here watching her? she wondered in outrage.

“Besides,” he said quietly, “I wished to speak with you.”

She glared at him. “You
are
speaking with me.”

“Privately. Why do we not go somewhere less crowded?”

She bit back the first retort that sprang to mind, which was to tell him that he could go to Hades for all she cared. Yet loath though she was to admit it, Rupert was right: the speaker was exceedingly dull, however worthy her philosophy might be.

“Very well,” she agreed with a barely veiled sigh.

Careful not to be any more disruptive than necessary, she secured her pencil and pad inside her reticule and rose to her feet. She ignored the few stray glances that came her way, including a chastening frown from the lecturess herself, and followed Rupert from the room.

The town house had one other small parlor, on the opposite side of the hallway. She led him there, grateful there were no servants in sight. “Now, what is so colossally important that you felt the need to disrupt my afternoon?”

“I’d hardly say that was a disruption. More like a rescue, in my estimation.”

She crossed her arms. “What do you want, Rupert? Or have you come merely to give me another lecture on the evil of my ways?”

He arched a golden brow. “If I thought a repetition of the sentiments I expressed during our last private encounter would have any effect on you, then yes, I would recite my warnings afresh.”

Strolling toward the window, he gazed out on a narrow side garden before turning back toward her. “But from what I have observed over the past couple of weeks, you do not seem to have taken my words to heart.”

“If you mean that I refuse to see villains around every corner, then you are right. The men with whom I choose to be acquainted are gentlemen, who treat me with care and respect. I have no need to fear them any more than I fear you. I shall not allow you to frighten me out of my decision to take a lover, Your Royal Highness, simply to appease your sense of propriety.”

“Is that what I’m doing? You think it is the potential loss of your virtue and reputation that concerns me?”

“In the main, yes.”

“Then you would be mistaken, although those are assuredly considerations that are difficult to overlook.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand to forestall her. “However,” he said, “I can see that continuing to debate the point is of no use.”

“Absolutely none. I am quite determined, you see.”

His brow furrowed. “Yes, I believe I do. Which is why I have been giving your . . . wishes on this matter a great deal of thought.”

“Oh really? Have you been devising new ways to harass and vex me? Plotting new schemes designed to thwart my every attempt at enjoyment? You may think that by popping up at every ball and party I attend you will deter me, but it only makes me more persistent, more determined to have my way.”

“So I can see, though I can hardly be held to account for receiving invitations to the same social functions as you, considering that we both move in the same social circles.”

“Perhaps not, but you can be held to account for accepting those invitations. I’m sure you would have refused half of them were it not for your sudden, and unwanted, interest in my affairs.”

He shrugged, making no effort to refute her charge. The clear amusement in his gaze made her blood boil.

“I am a fully grown woman,” she stated. “I have no need of your protection.”

“Maybe you do not, but you would be wise to take it. Which leads me back to the reason I wished to speak with you. I have a proposition I would like to make.”

“Really?” she said skeptically. “And what, pray tell, might that be?”

“Why do we not be more comfortable and take a seat?” He gestured toward the nearby sofa.

She stood, unmoving. “I am perfectly comfortable as I am.”

“Very well. As I said, I have been doing a great deal of thinking, and although I believe you would be best served by putting aside this radical notion of yours, I can see that you are indeed as determined as you say.”

“I am.”

“Knowing you as I do and given your sheer propensity for courting trouble—”

“I do not
court
trouble.”

“Maybe not, but it finds you nonetheless. Which means that if you continue on your present course you will most surely land yourself in a great deal of difficulty. Rather than invite such calamity to rain down upon you, I suggest you take measures to minimize the risks.”

“What sort of measures?”

“By taking a lover who will have a care for your reputation and your safety. A man who will see to it that no great harm comes to you in the course of this madness that you voluntarily seek.”

“But that is precisely what I have been attempting to do in my search of eligible gentlemen!” she exclaimed.

“Yet you risk exposure by the very nature of your search. You need a man you can trust implicitly,” he said smoothly. “A man who would never have cause to reveal your secrets.”

“Oh? And just who might this paragon be that you have in mind?”

The blue in his eyes darkened, gleaming with a light she had seen only once before. “Why, myself, of course.”

Chapter Seven

R
upert watched as Ariadne’s arms dropped to her sides, her lips parting on a quick inhalation. Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating so that the black nearly swallowed up the green of her irises.

“Clearly you are surprised,” he observed. “Perhaps you might like to take that seat now?”

She nodded, making no objection when he took her elbow and steered her to the sofa. She sank down onto the cushions. He believed it was the first time he had ever seen her speechless.

“Would you care for a glass of sherry?” he asked.

She shook her head.

After a moment she lifted her gaze to his. “Why are you making this offer . . . ?”

“I believe I have given you my primary reasons. I don’t want you left damaged without so much as a shred of your reputation remaining.”

“I told you I don’t care about my reputation,” she murmured.

“Then you are shortsighted and foolish.”

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.