To Charm a Prince (15 page)

“You are jealous of Alexander?”

“We were speaking of your feelings, not mine.” Rudolf lifted her hand to his lips. “You should have more faith in me, Princess. I would never share my body with just anyone and certainly never with a servant.”

“What is wrong with the poor?” Samantha asked. “I have no money.”

“I never mentioned money.” Rudolf reached out to caress her cheek. “As a prince and an employer, I have an obligation to respect my servants as they respect me. Seducing a servant is disrespectful.”

“You seduced me.”

“You are not a servant.”

And with that, the Prince turned and disappeared into his chamber. Samantha readied herself for bed. Guilty remorse gnawed at her. How could she accept a gentleman’s proposal of marriage and then never give him a thought? What must Alexander and her family be thinking?

Samantha knelt beside the bed and covered her face with her hands.
Thank You for sending me such an enjoyable day with the prince,
she prayed.
And thank You for making the prince such an honorable gentleman. Even though he did seduce me
. . .

You wanted him just as much as he wanted you
, an inner voice whispered.

Samantha peered through her fingers at the connecting door and recalled the prince’s words to her.

“Admit it, Princess. You enjoyed the intimacy we shared . . . your reputation is already ruined.
”

Seeing the grain of truth in the prince’s words, Samantha steeled herself against her desires. She leaped into bed and pulled the coverlet over her head to keep herself from walking into his chamber.

Samantha rose late the next morning and crossed the chamber to the window. Though frost feathered the trees and winter-barren lawns, sunbeams danced across the top of the pond, and no clouds marred the vast blueness of the sky.

After lunch, Samantha stood in the foyer and accepted the majordomo’s assistance with her fur-lined cloak. She wore her forest green riding habit, and on her feet were the black boots she’d worn on their journey from England.

“What color is that?” Rudolf asked, ushering her out the door.

Samantha smiled at the question. “Green.”

“What kind of green?”

“Green is green, Your Highness,” Samantha said, tossing his own words back at him.

Rudolf helped her up on the coach’s driver’s seat and then climbed up beside her. Taking the reins in his hands, Rudolf started the coach down the road leading away from the manor.

“If you are really a prince,” Samantha teased, “why haven’t I ever seen you wearing your crown?”

“I am a modest man who does not like to boast.”

Samantha laughed at that, earning a smile from the prince. “When I was a girl,” she told him, “I wished that I could wear a tiara. In my innocence, I thought if I was a princess, the other children wouldn’t make fun of my limp, and I wouldn’t be chosen last for games.”

When the prince remained silent, Samantha had the humiliating feeling that she had revealed too much of herself. She glanced at the prince. His expression was grim.

Rudolf halted the coach along the side of the road. Samantha turned to him, puzzled by their stopping.

“I apologize for not rescuing you until the Emerson ball,” Rudolf said, raising her hand to his lips.

“If I had lived in your village, I would always have chosen you first.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Samantha managed a smile for him as he started the coach down the road again but regretted telling him that story. The prince pitied her. She would rather be chosen last than pitied. Her leg might be deformed, but her Douglas pride was strong and intact.

“Stop!” A large dog bounded into the road in front of the coach. A loud wail of pain rent the air.

Rudolf halted the coach and leaped down, ordering, “Stay there.”

Ignoring his order, Samantha climbed down from the coach and hurried after him. She knelt beside the prince, who tried to inspect the dog without touching it.

The dog, an enormous deerhound, lay on the side of the road and whimpered. It stared helplessly at them through huge dark eyes.

“There’s no blood,” the prince said.

“It could be bleeding inside.”

Recovering itself, the deerhound tried to sit up. The dog made no snapping protest when Samantha lent a hand to help it. The hound sat up but held its injured paw off the ground.

“Never touch a strange dog, especially one that is injured,” Rudolf warned her.

“Nonsense,” Samantha said, as the dog licked her hand. “Let’s lift it into the coach and take it back to the manor.”

“This dog must have an owner,” Rudolf argued.

“We own the dog,” a voice behind them said.

Samantha started to turn toward the voice but felt the cold steel of a pistol touching the back of her head. Glancing sidelong at the prince, she saw the business end of a pistol touching the back of his head, too.

“As you value your life,” the voice warned, “make no sudden movements.”

“We don’t want to kill you,” a second voice added.

Samantha realized in surprise that the voices belonged to boys, not men. Where did these children get pistols? Where were their parents?

“You won’t get hurt if you do what you’re told,” the first voice said.

“Raise your hands in the air,” the second voice said.

“I’ll give the orders here,” the first boy told the second.

“I’m helping,” the second boy said.

“Just concentrate on holding that pistol steady,” the first boy ordered.

Samantha struggled against a smile. If she didn’t have a pistol pointed at the back of her head, she would have laughed out loud.

“Stand up slowly and turn around.”

With their hands in the air, Rudolf and Samantha rose from the ground. The sight of the boys startled Samantha, and she glanced at the prince, who looked as surprised as she felt.

The boys appeared no older than ten years of age. Obviously brothers, both boys had dark eyes and black hair. Their clothing was ragged, and they were in desperate need of a bath.

“We did not intend to hurt your dog,” Rudolf said, lowering his arms to his sides.

The older boy snapped his fingers at the dog. “Come.”

The deerhound limped toward its master.

“The show is over,” the younger boy said, and the deerhound stopped limping.

“That damn dog is an actor,” Samantha exclaimed. Rudolf opened his mouth to speak, but Samantha touched his arm and said in an angry voice, “I’ll handle this.” With her hands on her hips, she turned to the boys and asked, “How old are you?”

“I’m eight,” the younger boy said. “My brother is ten.”

“Don’t tell her anything,” the older boy ordered.

“Where do you live?” she asked him.

“That’s none of your business,” he answered.

Samantha arched an ebony brow at him, indicating her displeasure with his attitude. “Your father will be angry when he learns you’re trying to rob travelers.”

“We don’t have a father,” the younger boy spoke up.

“Is he dead?” Samantha asked, feeling sorry for them.

“We don’t know,” the younger boy answered with a shrug. “We never met him.”

“What about your mother, then?” Samantha argued, turning to the older boy. “She’ll be very displeased with you.”

“She’s not here,” the eight-year-old said.

“Where is she?”

“Ma went to Edinburgh last fall and never came back.”

“Don’t tell her anything,” the ten-year-old ordered.

Samantha felt her heart breaking for these children. She knew what it was to lose a mother and a father, but she’d never been abandoned like these boys. How could any woman do that to her own babies?

“What are your names?” she asked, softening her tone.

“I’m Drake Morton. Drake means dragon,” the younger boy told her with pride in his voice. “This is my brother Grant. His name means great.”

“Jesus Christ, brother,” Grant swore. “Now they know who to send to the gallows.”

“No one is going to the gallows,” Rudolf told them.

“I am Samantha Douglas. The Mortons are distant relatives of the Douglases,” she said. “This gentleman is Prince Rudolf Kazanov from Russia.”

“Is that in the Highlands?” Drake asked.

Rudolf smiled. “No, Russia is across the sea in Europe.”

“Are you a real prince?” Grant asked, looking skeptical.

“I assure you that I am Prince Rudolf.”

“Give us your money,” Grant ordered, waving the pistol at him.

“My servants carry my money for me,” Rudolf told him. “As you can see, I have brought no servants on this excursion.”

“Why not?” the boy asked.

“I wanted to be alone with my wife.”

Grant nodded. “We’ll take your wife hostage until you return with the money.”

Rudolf laughed out loud. “No gentleman would leave his lady with robbers.”

The deerhound chose that moment to trot toward Samantha. The dog sat up in front of her and raised its front paws in the air.

“Don’t beg, Giles,” Drake said. “She doesn’t have any food.”

Samantha was surprised. “Did you call the dog Giles?”

“That’s his name.”

“This is a sign,” she said, turning to the prince.

“What are you talking about?” Rudolf asked, looking at her in confusion.

“Giles is the patron saint of cripples,” Samantha told him. “The dog named Giles is a sign from God. I’m taking them home and keeping them.”

Samantha warmed to the idea. With her reputation ruined, she would never marry, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have her own family—two sons and a dog.

“You cannot steal another woman’s sons,” Rudolf argued.

“I’m rescuing them, not stealing.”

“Who will care for them?” Rudolf asked her. “Will you give them a job and put them to sleep in the servants’ quarters? What if the other servants do not want to care for them?”

“My adopted sons will not be servants,” Samantha told him. “I will care for them, and they will sleep in my chamber.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll sleep in your chamber.”

“And where will I sleep?”

Samantha smiled sweetly. “You will sleep beside me.”

It was a bribe, pure and simple. She knew it, but the boys needed her. And . . . she had an excuse to join the prince in his bed and grab a few weeks of happiness with him. She could pretend the prince was her husband and the boys were their children.

“Give the prince those pistols and climb into the coach,” Samantha ordered in a voice of authority.

Without waiting for a reply, Samantha walked toward the coach and opened the door. She looked at the boys and the prince, who hadn’t moved.

“Who are you?” Grant asked, apparently suspicious of her kindness.

“I’m your fairy godmother, and this is your lucky day,” she answered. “Get into the coach and be quick about it.”

“What about Giles?” Drake whined.

“Giles is coming, too.”

She looked at the prince for help. He was grinning like an idiot.

“Don’t argue with her,” Rudolf warned the boys, holding his hands out for the pistols. “You won’t win.”

Chapter 8

“Holy water,” eight-year-old Drake exclaimed, entering the manor’s foyer.

“Holy hell,” ten-year-old Grant said, equally impressed as he turned in a circle to scan the manor’s foyer.

Walking behind them, Samantha smiled and glanced at Rudolf, who was also smiling at their reactions. Apparently, the boys had never seen any place quite as impressive as this. Samantha recalled the first time she’d entered the Duke of Inverary’s home after living almost her entire life in the little cottage on the far side of Primrose Hill. Her reaction then was similar to the boys’ reaction now.

“Your Highnesses,” Durwin called, entering the foyer, “why have you returned so—” His gaze fell on the boys. “Ragamuffins! Get out of this house, you dirty brats!” With contempt stamped across his features, the majordomo marched across the foyer toward the boys.

Recovering from her momentary surprise, Samantha stepped in front of the boys. She looked at the prince for help, but he only smiled at her and folded his arms across his chest to watch.

Samantha turned to confront the majordomo. He was the servant, not she.

“What do you think you are doing?” Samantha demanded.

Durwin stopped short. He appeared as surprised by her protecting the boys as he was by their presence.

“Your Highness, these boys are—”

“My guests,” she finished for him. Her gaze sparkled with righteous anger, daring him to challenge her words.

Durwin looked horrified. “You cannot mean to harbor these miscreants.”

“Do
not
speak disparagingly of my soon-to-be adopted sons,” Samantha ordered, shocking the man even more. Her gaze drifted to Giles. “Or their dog.”

The majordomo turned to the prince in a silent plea for help. Samantha looked at Rudolf, whose smile had grown into a broad grin.

“What are you smiling at?” she asked, irritated by his lack of help.

“Be careful, Princess,” Rudolf warned, his placid expression at odds with the tone of his voice. “Remember to whom you are speaking.”

“You need to show respect for your husband,” ten-year-old Grant said, nodding in agreement. “Your husband is your master.”

“I think we are going to get along famously,” Rudolf told the boy.

Surprised by the public rebuke and the boy’s defense of it, Samantha stared from the boy to the prince. Apparently, all men stood together against all women.

Eight-year-old Drake slipped his hand into hers. When she looked down at him, he smiled at her in an effort to offer his own brand of comfort.

“Tell Cook to prepare a mountain of food for the boys and the dog,” Samantha instructed the majordomo. “I want the footmen to light a fire in the Tudor hall’s hearth and set up three tubs of hot water there. Borrow clean clothing from the stable boys and send Sally to move my clothing into my husband’s chamber. The boys will sleep in mine.”

Durwin began to protest, “But, Your Highness—”

“Go now,” Samantha ordered.

“Your Highness?” Durwin said in an irritated voice, turning to the prince.