Princess in Disguise (5 page)

He shook his head. “You are a bold woman to admit that openly, but it changes things.
I’m not the sort of man to marry.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Good God.” He set her to one side and then stood.

Brows lowered, Alexandra sprang from the settee. “What are you doing?”

“I, madam, am going to my bedchamber.”

“But it’s early yet. They haven’t yet brought tea or dinner or—”

“I’ll have dinner in my room.” He took a step toward the door.

“Wait!” She stepped in front of him. “I don’t understand. You asked why I was here
in Scotland and I told you. Would you have rather that I’d lied?”

“I’d rather you weren’t in the market for a husband. Alexandra, I’ve no wish to marry.
Ever.
And you are serious about it.”

“I want to marry again, yes, but if it bothers you so, then we will not mention it
again.” She shrugged. “We will leave marriage to the fates, eh? Meanwhile . . .” She
placed a hand on his chest and slipped her fingers under his waistcoat. “We are stranded
here. You amuse me. I like your kisses and I know that you like mine. Can you think
of a reason not to enjoy each other?”

He could think of several: chief among them, discovering that he’d gotten a princess—a
princess,
by God—with child, or being pummeled by her guard for daring even to look her way.
“I can’t take that risk.” He shook his head. “Would that you really
had
been a Gypsy.”

She pouted. “And if I had?”

“Then I would not hesitate to seduce you. But knowing who you are and what you desire,
I must refrain.”

“Pah, that will make no one happy.” She stepped closer, her pale blue eyes darkening
with promise as she pressed her soft curves against him. “Come,
pashinko
. Let us enjoy what time we have. If it makes things easier, I am more than willing
to pretend I am a Gypsy.”

“That would be a very dangerous game.”

“But fun,
nyet
?” She wrapped her arms about him. “I should warn you; I am a determined woman. What
I want, I get.”

“That’s very princess-like of you.”

“It is how I am. No matter how much you wish to resist, I have every intention of
seducing you.”

In his dreams, if a woman said such a thing to him, he wouldn’t hesitate. And this
woman, with her sensual voice, generous curves, seductive accent, and startling eyes,
would have made the encounter memorable.

It was a pity, for he could think of nothing he’d enjoy more than spending a few days
locked in a snowy inn with Alexandra. But he’d be a fool to indulge himself. He had
seen too many of his friends fall into this particular trap, and the better connected
the lady’s family, the more tightly bound the hapless male became
.

Fortunately the memory of those wretched friends cooled his ardor and wiser, calmer
thoughts prevailed. He untwined her arms from his waist and stepped away. “Pardon
me, Your Highness, but I must leave.”

And with that, he bowed and left without looking back.

Chapter 5

T
he next morning, Kintore shrugged
into his coat in the front hall, wincing when the collar brushed his tender jaw.
“Damn you, Doya,” he muttered.

He’d gotten no sleep last night as some cruel imp of fate had put him in the bedchamber
next to Alexandra’s. As he’d tossed and turned, he’d heard her murmur a goodnight
to someone—Doya, perhaps?—and then climb the stairs, his imagination lingering on
every possible sway of her hips, every breath she took. When she’d approached his
door, she’d hesitated.

He’d waited, holding his breath. God, he’d yearned for her to enter his chamber and
climb into his bed. Just thinking about her silky black hair and her sky-blue eyes
had made his cock stir to life.
But there’s a price that comes with that,
he’d told himself sternly.

She’d stayed outside his door for a long time, the sound of her breathing just barely
audible, while Kintore’s body had burned with an almost undeniable heat.

Just as he was on the verge of leaping from his bed and yanking her into his room,
she’d sighed and continued down the hallway.

He’d been left aching for her, and after she’d opened the door to her own bedchamber,
he’d listened to every sound she’d made as she prepared for bed. He’d heard her steps,
the rustle of her clothes, the thump of her boots as she set them by the fireplace,
the click of her comb as she placed it back on her dresser—every sound had sent his
imagination into places that had made him burn more.

Long after she’d fallen asleep, he’d continued to imagine her getting undressed in
his
bedchamber, of her setting her boots beside
his
fireplace, of her smile and the curve of her full breasts as she’d climbed into
his
bed, of the way her warm skin would feel against
his,
and on and on.

He hadn’t gotten enough sleep to fill a thimble. And he’d awoken this morning still
thinking of her, and of how close he’d come to pulling her into his room and having
his way with her. It was time to stop tempting the fates and put some distance between
himself and the delectable Princess Alexandra.

Tired but determined, he’d risen and dressed as warmly as he could, forgoing his usual
routine of shaving, and decided to brave the weather and travel to Aberdeenshire,
where he was certain to find another inn. He just needed to settle up with the landlord.

MacDuffie conveniently came hurrying out of the parlor, an empty tray in his hands,
just as Kintore reached the bottom of the stairs. The innkeeper halted when he saw
the earl with his portmanteau. “Me lor’! Ye’re leavin’? B-but ye canno’!”

“Yet I am. Sadly, I’ve recalled an important appointment that I must keep.”
One far away from a tempting princess on the hunt for a husband.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” He pulled out some coins and held them out to the
innkeeper.

The man merely shook his head and said once again, “Me lor’, ’tis I’m sorry I am,
but ye
canno’
leave. Go look oot the window in the front parlor. I’d suggest the door here, but
we canno’ get it open. ’Tis blocked by the snow.”

With a sinking feeling, Kintore went to the large bow window and looked out through
the part not covered by huge drifts, which wasn’t large.

Never in all of his years had he seen so much snow. It was piled up in fluffy abandon
against every wall it could find until the water barrels and shrubberies were lost
from sight. Worse, it was still coming down in large, wet flakes that would build
up even higher.

MacDuffie stared out the window as well. “I suppose ye
could
leave, me lor’, if ye were determined, bu’ I wouldna recommend it.”

Neither would Kintore. If anyone knew the cost of winter, it was he—and how very high
that cost could be.

As if to confirm this, a huge slab of snow and ice fell from the roof and crashed
onto the ground, showering the window with rock-hard icy pellets.

Both men stepped back.

“Och, tha’ scared me nigh to death, it did! ’Tis no’ fit fer mice nor men, is it?”

“No.” Kintore removed his coat. “It appears I must remain.”

MacDuffie beamed and took the earl’s coat, hanging it carefully over his arm. “I’ll
carry yer portmanteau back to yer room. Shall I fetch ye breakfast?” His smile faded
a bit. “We’ve no’ as much as usual, since Mrs. MacDuffie’s a wee bit under the weather,
but the kitchen maid can cook porridge and we’ve eggs and pig, to boot.

“That will be fine, I’m sure. Thank you.”

“Ye’re welcome. I’ll bring ye some nice malty ale fer breakfast, too.” The innkeeper
left.

Kintore scowled. Bloody hell, this was a pretty turn of events. And a dangerous one,
too. If he wasn’t careful, he might end up leg-shackled to an Oxenburg princess.

Sighing, he turned from the window and crossed to a chair by the cheery fire. How
long would this snow last?
Damn it, how long will
I
last?
He’d never been very good at denying himself, especially something that was readily
available and oh-so-tempting. Frankly, in the years since Jane’s death, he had stopped
trying to deny anything except his feelings. Those, thankfully, were almost entirely
dead.

The only feelings he had left were of the sensual kind, and unfortunately the princess
knew just how to stir them to life. He eyed the settee, remembering how he’d kissed
Alexandra on those very cushions. His body hardened at the memory and he shifted uncomfortably.
He’d have to set some definite lines to keep himself from succumbing. No more kisses,
no more holding her in his lap, no more anything.

He could look, but he wouldn’t touch. And that was that.

“Good morning, Kintore.”

He stood and turned to face Alexandra.

She raised her brows on seeing him, her gaze flickering over his face.

He touched his cheek and then grimaced. “Ah, yes. I didn’t shave this morning. I shall—”

“No, no,” she said, sounding oddly breathless, her gaze locked on his face. “Leave
it. It becomes you.” She flushed, then turned to look out the bow window. “It’s falling
very hard now.”

He watched her stand on her tiptoes in an effort to see above the drifted snow, her
figure rounded and graceful beneath her black gown. He thought of all the women he
knew who dressed themselves in the brightest of fineries, wore the most expensive
jewelry, and paid hundreds of pounds for hairdressers to twist and curl their hair
into fashionable styles. Yet this slip of a woman could walk into a room wearing the
drabbest of gowns, with no jewelry whatsoever, and put every one of those peacocks
to shame. She was fresh and lovely and far too delectable.

He realized that the silence was growing. “The snow looks quite wet. I can’t imagine
traveling in this.”

“It’s not so bad if you stay under the trees lining the road.”

He blinked. “How do you know that?”

“I went for a walk earlier this morning.”

“In
this
weather?”

“Pah. In my country, we have snow like this for months on end.”

“You did not go alone.”

She looked surprised. “No, for Doya insisted that I have a guard with me, which is
silly. No one would try to abduct me in this weather.”

“There are other dangers. The snow can be treacherous—” The words tangled in his throat,
his heart pounding as if he’d been running.

Fortunately, Alexandra didn’t seem to notice as she turned from the window. “It is
lovely,
nyet
?”

“I suppose so.”

She gave him an unreadable look as she walked past him to sit upon the settee. Trailing
behind her was the faint scent of lavender and—was that rose? He took a deeper breath
and his heart slowed to a more regular beat.

She sat in the very spot they’d both occupied the night before, watching as he took
the chair opposite instead of joining her on the settee. Her frown let him know her
opinion of his choice of seat. “I saw MacDuffie on the stairs just now, taking your
portmanteau back to your room. You were planning on leaving and never saying another
word to me, weren’t you?”

“I thought it would be for the best.”

“For whom?”

“For us both.”

Her lips thinned. “You are a coward.”

No one had ever accused him of such a thing.
Ever
. “I am no coward.”

“What are you, then, that you would have snuck out thinking I was still abed?”

“I wasn’t sneaking out. I was using the front door—or I would have, had it not been
blocked by snow.”

Her foot tapped impatiently. “You avoided me last night and then this morning, you
tried to run away. You are obviously not happy with what I said, and we must discuss
it.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. I am simply not interested.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he saw hurt flash in her remarkable eyes.
Damn it, this is exactly what I didn’t wish to happen.

She was silent a long moment before she collected herself enough to give him a pained
smile. “Doya says I should remember that not everyone is as outspoken as I am. Still,
I’m not sorry for being honest. I must marry. I have no choice in the matter and I
thought you might be a possibility, but you are not.” She shrugged. “Do not worry.
I am young and there are many good men in this world.”

“Why must you marry?”

“My husband was the king’s nephew. But I, too, have royal blood, although of another
branch of the house. My son will be fifth in line for the throne after the king’s
sons.”

“He has many?”

“Four. As soon as the princes start having their own children, my importance will
be greatly reduced. But until then, my offspring will be the fifth in line, right
after the princes. For that reason the king feels I should marry as soon as possible.”

“I see. How did you come to marry the king’s nephew to begin with?”

“It was an arranged marriage. I was young, so—” She shrugged. “Now, I wish to find
my own husband.”

“I would say that would be preferable.”

“Yes, although I grew to love Dmitri, it is too much to expect that to happen a second
time. So this time I will marry for myself.”

“And the man you marry? He will be a prince?”

“No, no. I am a princess only because of my marriage. Once I am no more a princess,
I will take my old title, that of duchess. I will pass that on to my children.”

“So you don’t need to live in Oxenburg, then.”

She blinked, looking surprised. “Why wouldn’t I live there?”

“Because if you marry, you will have to consider someone else’s wishes as well as
your own.”

“Ah. I suppose that is true. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Why did you come to Scotland looking for a husband? Surely there are worthy men in
Oxenburg.”

“It is not a very large country, so there are not as many eligible men as you might
think. But it doesn’t matter. I wish our line to be strong, and for that reason I
have decided to wed a Scot.”

“A true Scot will not willingly bow to any sovereign but our own. Nor do I know of
any who would give up his country.”

“That’s very William Wallace of you,” she said in a dry tone. When he looked surprised,
she added, “My tutor was from Edinburgh.” She rested her elbow on the settee arm,
her fingers absently twiddling with the black bow adorning her neckline. “Kintore,
though we’re not to be more, I hope we can at least be friends. I would like that
very much.”

Friends.
Did he even know what those were anymore? After Jane’s death, he’d isolated himself
from most of his friends, pushing them away because their condolences and pity made
his agony even more painful.

After that, bent on not thinking, not feeling, he’d cultivated only the shallowest
of acquaintances, the sort given much to merriment and little to talking. He had nothing
that he wished to talk about anymore, and damned little that he wished to hear.

He realized that Alexandra was still waiting, so he said, “We can try to be friends,
but we are worlds apart. We are from different continents, different countries, different
positions in our lives . . . we’ve only one thing in common.”

“What’s that?”

He met her gaze steadily.

She flushed. “Oh, that.”

“Yes. It is not enough on its own, especially as you wish for a husband and a family,
and I wish for peace and amusement, but it is there nonetheless.”

She rested her chin in her hand. “Do you think we might just flirt for a day or two?
Very innocently, of course. Would there be anything wrong with that? I miss flirting
very much.”

His gaze moved over her blue-black hair to her fascinating mouth, and down to her
generous breasts.
What’s wrong is that I would like it far too much.
“We would be wiser to avoid flirting. I think you know that.”

She sighed. “So you are telling me ‘
nyet
.’ ”

“
Nyet
it is.”

Her brows drew down and she leaned back against the cushion. “I am not used to being
told that. It is very unpleasant.”

He chuckled, dissipating his irritation. “Yes, it is.”

“But”—she threw out her hands—“if that is what you feel, then I must accept. It’s
a pity, though, for I like you very much, and your kisses . . .” She closed her eyes,
her expression one of sensual pleasure.

He’d seen that look yesterday, and seeing it again made his cock rigid with the memory.
God, she was lush.

She opened her eyes, the translucent blue shining through her sooty black lashes breathtakingly
beautiful. “But since you wish it, I will say no more about it.”

“That would be best,” he managed.

She threw up her hands. “Fine! It is sad that it is not to be, but I will accept it.
Once we leave this inn, I shall find someone else.”

“You must do what is best for you.” The words were strangely bitter on his tongue
. Why should I care?
he asked himself.
I don’t. I can’t.