The Stolen Princess (30 page)

“Nonsense.” Nash wrung his hand. “It was all our parents' making, and it's behind us now. I just wish you would give Marcus a chance—”

“Don't push it, brother. I'll try to put the past behind me, but there's Harry to think of.”

Nash nodded. “I know.”

Harry had left Alverleigh House early. Gabe knew exactly why. It was the scene of one of Harry's biggest humiliations.

But this was no time to dwell on the past. He had a future to build, with a woman who wanted no part of him.

Or thought she didn't.

C
allie found the rose bedroom. It was a pretty, spacious room, painted in shades of cream and rose. A large, oval looking glass hung over the mantelpiece. Satin drapes in striped dark rose and cream lined the large windows and thick Persian rugs carpeted the floor. A fire had been lit and the bed turned down in readiness.

Her new clothes had been unpacked and hung in the wardrobe and the rest of her things were in a chest of drawers.

Callie sat down on the bed. It was wonderfully soft, with a thick feather mattress. She leaned back, heard something crackle, and looked down. It was a tissue-wrapped parcel. The note said simply, “With love from Tibby.”

Intrigued, Callie picked it up. It was light and squishy.

She removed the ribbon and unwrapped the parcel. It was something in white silk. She lifted it and her eyes widened. It was a nightgown, but nothing like any nightgown Callie had ever worn. It was beautiful, with delicate embroidery around the neck, but so fine and sheer she could see her fingers faintly through the fabric.

Tibby had given her this? Sensible, spinsterly
Tibby
? She couldn't believe it.

She smiled and refolded the nightgown. It was not at all practical, but still, it was a lovely gift. And it must have cost her a fortune. She set it aside and found herself yawning. She was so tired.

There was a bell pull hanging beside the bed, so she pulled it and waited. After a few minutes she pulled it again. Still nothing.

Suddenly Callie recalled Lady Gosforth's statement that the servants had all been dismissed for the night. That did not really mean all, surely? Not the maids as well.

She needed a maid to get her out of her wedding dress. It was fastened down the back with dozens of tiny mother-of-pearl buttons, and though she might be able to manage them at a pinch, underneath the dress she wore a specially made corset that was laced tightly at the back. She could never get that undone by herself.

She opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. “Excuse me,” she called.

“Yes?” said a deep voice behind her.

Callie almost leapt out of her skin. “Gabriel, you startled me.”

He looked amused. “Who else did you expect?”

“A maidservant?” she said hopefully.

He shook his head. “Need help to get out of that dress, I expect.”

She nodded, and he said, “Come on then.” And before she realized what he was about, he guided her back into the bedchamber, twirled her around, and started undoing her buttons.

She jumped away and faced him. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“Undoing your buttons. There is no maid and you won't get a wink of sleep in that dress.”

“But you're a man.”

He gave one of those slow, crooked smiles that had such a disturbing effect on her. “I know.” He turned her around again and said, “Don't be missish, they're only buttons, and I am your husband.”

He was right. It might only be a paper marriage, but she was a mature woman and she could be rational about this. As he'd said, they were only buttons.

There was no such thing as “only buttons” she decided two minutes later. She could feel every movement he made as his long fingers undid tiny button after tiny button. There was no sound in the room, only the crackling of the fire and the sound of his breathing. She could almost feel his breath on the nape of her neck, though that was silly. He wasn't standing that close.

She glanced across at the beautiful looking glass that hung over the fireplace. She could see him in profile, frowning with concentration over the buttons, his face part in shadow, part in light.

His fingertips brushed her skin and she shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” she prevaricated. The shiver had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with…him. His touch.

“Then let us stand closer to the fire.”

They moved, and now she could see him in the looking glass even more clearly, as he bent to the task of the fiddly buttons.

He worked his way downward, and she felt the dress coming away at the back. She clutched it to her breasts to keep it up.

“Shall I lift it over your head or would you prefer to step out of it?”

“Neither, thank you. I will do that later. If you could just unfasten the hook and the laces now…”

She saw his mouth quirk in the slow smile she found so irresistible, but he said nothing and set to work on the corset.

“I don't know why you women do this do yourselves,” he muttered. “It must be deuced uncomfortable.”

“It's not,” she assured him. “It was made for me, especially to wear with evening dresses, my wedding dress in particular.”

“You did look beautiful in it,” he said and met her gaze in the mirror. She realized then that he'd known all along she'd been watching him.

“You look even more beautiful out of it,” he murmured and parted it. Without taking his eyes off hers in the mirror, he drew one long finger slowly down her spine, from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. Even though she was still wearing her chemise she arched against his finger as if it were flesh against flesh.

She quickly stepped away and turned to face him, clutching her sagging wedding dress and corset to her like a shield. “Thank you for your help,” she told him. “I shall manage on my own now.”

She couldn't see the expression in his eyes, they were in shadow. For a moment she thought he wasn't going to move, but then he simply bowed and said, “I shall leave you alone then.”

The door shut behind him and she let out a huge sigh of relief. At least she told herself it was relief. She felt a bit…hollow.

She dropped her dress and corset, stepped out of them, then picked them up and draped the dress carefully over a chair. She stretched and gave her ribs a brisk rub. The corset wasn't uncomfortable but it was tight, and it was lovely to be free of the constriction.

There was some lukewarm water in a jug on a small table and she used it to give herself a quick rub over with a washcloth and soap in front of the fire. She would have preferred a bath, but with no servants in the house, that wasn't possible.

She looked through the chest of drawers for her nightgown. She'd bought several on her shopping expeditions, but none of them were there. She went through the drawers twice. No, whoever had packed her things had forgotten nightgowns.

She would have to sleep in her chemise, she decided. Her eye fell on the silk nightgown Tibby had given her. It was scandalously thin, but the bed was soft and warm and, after all, one should use a gift in the spirit in which it was given. She slipped out of her chemise and into the nightgown. It slithered softly down her body, like a cool flow of water.

It felt lovely. She glanced at her reflection in the looking glass. Heavens. She looked virtually naked. She could see the smudge of darkness at the apex of her thighs. She stared again. It looked like her breasts were slightly different sizes. Surely not. She squinted and yes, they were, not by much, but definitely there was a difference. She looked down at them. How had she never known that? Or had it just happened recently?

She'd never really looked at herself naked in a mirror. In the palace the only looking glasses in her apartments were in the dressing room, and there she'd always had at least one maid with her, dressing her and undressing her. And although she could have stared at her reflection if she'd wanted, it was an embarrassing thing to do when someone was watching.

Now she was alone and free to look, and look she did, turning herself all around, twisting her head to see herself from behind. She was a bit fat, she decided, especially her backside. It didn't look so big in dresses, though. Maybe it was the nightgown. Experimentally she lifted the nightgown and looked at the reflection of her naked buttocks. Definitely fat, she thought. Certainly not “beautiful” as he'd said. She sighed. Gallant compliment number eighty-seven.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and she leapt in fright, dropping the nightgown back guiltily and covered herself with her arms.

“Who is it?”

“It's Gabriel, of course,” said a familiar, deep voice.

Of course. There was no one else in the house. “What do you want?” she called.

To her horror, the door opened. She snatched up her dress from the chair and used it to cover herself decently. “What do you think you are doing?” she demanded breathlessly.

“Coming to bed,” he said. He'd removed his coat and waistcoat and his neck cloth lay untied around his neck. The top of his shirt was open.

“What? Here?”

“Yes, here.” He walked across to the large wardrobe on the other side of the room and opened a door, saying, “My clothes are here, haven't you noticed?”

She hadn't. “But my clothes are here,” she told him.

“That's probably why there are two wardrobes and two chests of drawers,” he suggested. He sat down on a low chair and proceeded to remove his shoes and stockings.

“You mean both of us are to sleep here?”

“Exactly.” He stood up and then didn't move.

“No,” she told him, wondering what he was doing. He was staring not quite at her, but at something over her shoulder.

He smiled. “Simply beautiful,” he murmured.

She glanced over her shoulder but all she could see was the fire and the looking glass. Then she realized. The looking glass! He could see her back view in the looking glass. In the transparent nightgown.

“Stop that!”

“I can't,” he said simply.

She started to turn and then realized that either way she was exposed, so she edged her way to the bed and with some difficulty slipped between the covers. Pulling them up to her chin she ordered him to leave.

“Can't,” he said. “We need to make this marriage legal.”

“It is legal. You said Nash arranged the license.”

“Yes, all that part is legal and aboveboard, but now we have to consummate it.”

“Consummate? But you said—”

“Yes?” His eyebrow rose quizzically.

“You said it was a paper marriage. A strategy. A—a chess maneuver.”

He raised both eyebrows. “You want to play chess? Now?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.” The faintly teasing look faded. “It is what I said it would be, but the count is going to try everything, I'm certain, and this is one loophole he will be sure to check. If I slept in another room, and you were asked to swear later if you'd lain with me on your wedding night, would you be able to lie convincingly?”

She bit her lip, knowing he was right. She wasn't a convincing liar at all. “So we must consummate this marriage?” she whispered.

He sighed. “Not if you don't want to. If we sleep together then you can tell any judge or government official who is impertinent enough to inquire that, yes, we did sleep together. They will make the assumption.”

Callie thought it over. She could do that. But they would have to share a bed. She swallowed.

The only person who'd ever shared her bed was her son and that was only since they'd fled Zindaria. Rupert had never stayed with her after his monthly marital visits. He preferred to sleep in his own apartments.

She surveyed the bed. It was big, more than big enough for two people.

“All right,” she said grudgingly. “But only to ensure the legality of this marriage. And only if you promise me you will not pounce on me.”

He gave her a shocked look. “Pounce? I never pounce. I have far more sophistication than that.” He pulled his shirt off, then started to undo the buttons at his waist.

“What are you doing?” She felt as tense as a violin string.

“Getting undressed. I'm not sleeping in my trousers.”

“Are you wearing drawers?” she demanded.

“Yes.”

“Then leave them on,” she ordered. She lay down and squeezed her eyes tight shut. She could get through this. It was a few hours, no more. It was just sleeping, nothing else. And it would make Nicky safe. All she had to do was keep herself safe from her husband. And the only way to do that was to keep him at a distance.

She could hear him removing his trousers. She sneaked a peek and saw him padding around the room in nothing but a pair of light cotton drawers, blowing out candles and turning out lamps.