To Charm a Prince (8 page)

You probably aren’t too pleased with me,
Samantha prayed silently.
I want to thank You for allowing me another kiss. I
would be especially grateful if You could somehow contrive to
save my—
reputation or virginity?

A drowsy smile touched her lips when she made her decision.
If you could contrive to save my reputation.

*    *    *

Samantha awakened early the next morning. For a moment she felt disoriented but then realized where she was and with whom. Even worse, during the night, she had somehow gravitated toward the warmth of his body.

Lying on her side with her cheek resting against his chest, Samantha felt his arm around her back, holding her close against his body. In her sleep, she’d thrown her leg across his lower body and woven it between his legs. She could feel his erection against the side of her leg. Opening her eyes, she saw that her chemise straps had slipped, leaving one of her breasts exposed.

The prince still slept. Should she pull the chemise up or wait until he moved? She didn’t want to awaken him while she was wrapped around his body.

Samantha lay still, wondering what to do. She shifted her gaze from her naked breast to his well-muscled chest with its matting of hair.

Wanting to see his face, Samantha moved her head slightly as if in sleep. She raised her gaze to his throat, his strong chin, his chiseled lips, his straight nose . . . his black gaze.

The prince hadn’t been sleeping at all. While she’d been perusing his body, he’d been perusing hers.

Her gaze captive to his, Samantha sensed his hand moving closer to her bared breast. She sucked in her breath when she felt his hand slide across her breast, cupping it in his hand. He kneaded her soft flesh and then glided his finger across her nipple, which hardened with her arousal.

The intensity in his gaze and his finger caressing her nipple made Samantha feel weak. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and a melting sensation ignited a fire between her thighs.

“Your breasts are beautiful, Princess, and your nipples are exquisitely sensitive,” Rudolf said, drawing the chemise’s bodice up to cover her.

And what should she reply to that?
Thank you
seemed out of place, though she did believe he was complimenting her.

“
Krusseevy
,” Rudolf murmured, “
Krusseevy
means beautiful
.
”

*    *    *

Life became one long coach ride.

Karl turned their coach northeast, and they rode through Coventry, an ancient cathedral city with defensive walls. Exhaustion blinded Samantha to Leicestershire’s stark beauty of ancient gnarled trees and stone villages.

Staring out the window at the passing scenery, Samantha smiled at her own foolishness. Growing up, she’d always wished for a ride with a handsome prince in his grand coach. He would be her knight, her champion, and silence the taunts of the neighboring children. She should have been more careful what she wished for.

“Why are you smiling?”

Samantha turned her head to look at the prince. His handsomely chiseled face tugged at her heartstrings. If only things could have been different

“I was thinking that, as a child, I always wanted to ride in a grand coach,” she answered.

Rudolf smiled. “And now your wish has been granted.”

The coach went over a bump, throwing her against him. “Yes, the Lord usually finds a way to torment us with what we want.”

“Would you like to learn a few Russian words?” Rudolf asked, obviously trying to entertain her.

“Not really.”

“
Glaza
means eyes,” Rudolf said as if she hadn’t spoken. “Repeat, please.”

Samantha sighed. “
Glaza
.”

Rudolf pointed to her nose. “
Nos
means nose.”

“
Nos.
”

“
Gooba
means lip,” he told her.

“
Gooba.
”

“Your pronunciation is excellent,” Rudolf praised her. “Now, tell me what I am pointing at.”

“
Glaza . . . nos . . . gooba
.”

Beneath the fur coverlet, Rudolf put his arm around her and drew her against the side of his body. Gazing into her eyes, he said, “
Ya khuchoo stubboy spart
.”

“What does that mean?” Samantha asked with a smile. “Was it a compliment?”

With his face merely inches from hers, Rudolf told her, “
Ya khuchoo stubboy spart
means I want to make love with you.”

Samantha lost her smile. The prince was becoming entirely too familiar with his words and her person. She wasn’t going to tumble into bed with a man who offered no future.

Rudolf gave her an amused smile as if he knew her thoughts. “You must say
utstan.
”

Samantha arched an ebony brow at him. She wasn’t going to repeat any words she didn’t know.

“
Utstan
means take your hands off me.”

Samantha laughed.

Wearing an expression of regret, Rudolf touched her cheek. “
Ya tibya lyublyoo
.”

“What does that mean?”

“Teach me how to pick a pocket,” he said, changing the subject abruptly.

Samantha reached for his hand and lifted it up for her perusal. She studied his long, tapered fingers and pressed the palm of her hand against his as if to measure the difference in size. “Your hands are too big.”

“But how would I do it if I wanted?” he asked.

Samantha gave him a flirtatious smile as an imp entered her soul. She entwined her left arm around his neck and pulled his face closer.

“Successful pickpocketing takes years of practice,” she said, her lips a hairsbreadth from his. “A distraction diverts the pigeon’s attention while you quickly search his pockets.”

With that, Samantha pressed her lips against his. She felt his arms go around her and savored the feeling of his mouth covering hers. His lips were warm, and when he caressed the crease of her mouth with his tongue, she parted her lips for him, allowing him entrance to the sweet softness beyond. His lingering kiss melted into another. And then another.

Summoning all her inner strength, Samantha pushed him away and dangled his gold watch in front of his face, asking, “Do you see what I mean?”

Rudolf shouted with laughter. “Do you usually go around London kissing men?”

“Certainly not,” Samantha said primly. “Because of my limp, I usually trip and bump into a gentleman who, naturally, reaches out to keep me from falling.”

With one long finger, Rudolf tapped the tip of her nose playfully, asking, “Where did you learn to charm a prince?”

Samantha blushed. “Perhaps some people are easily charmed, Your Highness.”

They passed through Derbyshire, a midland county of contrasts from low land to high peaks. Samantha yearned to stop in the market town of Derby, known for its silk and lace. She had only the one gown and couldn’t wear it for the rest of her life.

Leaving Derby behind without stopping, they rode into Yorkshire. With an austere beauty, the landscape wore many faces from stone-fenced farms to windswept moors to deep, secluded valleys. Nine miles west of Leeds lay Bradford in a small valley on the eastern slopes of the Pennines.

Passing the Church of St. Peter, Karl halted the coach in front of the Boar’s Head Inn. Prince Rudolf climbed out first and then led her into the inn’s common room. Within minutes, Samantha and the prince sat close to the hearth’s warmth and ate roasted beef, Yorkshire pudding, and horseradish sauce.

Samantha saw Karl enter the common room and scan the tables. Seeing them near the hearth, the prince’s man approached their table.

“Your Highness, we will make Carlisle by early afternoon tomorrow,” Karl said. “Dumfries is a half day’s ride from there.”

Prince Rudolf nodded. “Take your supper now.”

“Would you care to join us?” Samantha asked.

“No, thank you, my lady.” Karl looked scandalized by her suggestion.

“He needs to feed his sturgeon,” the prince said.

“Where do you keep this sturgeon?” Samantha asked.

Karl looked at the prince and then, wearing a serious expression, answered, “I keep it in a warm place.” At that the prince’s man turned away and crossed the common room to a table near the bar.

Samantha flicked a glance at the prince, who was grinning. “What do you find so amusing?”

Rudolf leaned close. “You are the most charming woman I have ever met, like a breath of fresh air in a smoky room.”

“Thank you, I think,” she said, giving him a puzzled smile.

“Tell me more about this feud between the Douglases and the Emersons.”

“The feud has been settled,” Samantha told him, “or it would have been settled if I had become betrothed to Alexander.”

Rudolf frowned at the mention of Alexander Emerson. “Tell me about it.”

“When I was a child, Charles Emerson swindled my father out of most of the Douglas fortune,” Samantha said. “My father lost the remainder when he tried to recoup his losses by gambling. We were forced to leave the mansion in Grosvenor Square, and I suffered the accident that left me with a limp on our last day there.”

“Charles Emerson ran over you with his carriage.”

Samantha nodded. “My father’s best friend, the Duke of Inverary, would have helped but was in Scotland at the time.”

Rudolf cocked a brow at her. “What about when His Grace returned from Scotland?”

“My father was too proud to ask for help,” Samantha answered, “and the duke couldn’t find us. For ten years, my sisters and I plotted revenge against Emerson, especially after my father became sick with drink.”

“How could three young ladies possibly get revenge?” the prince asked.

“My older sister is an expert cheat at dice and cards,” she told him, “but we couldn’t contrive to get into the gambling hells.”

“So, how did you and your sisters get revenge?”

“By chance, Angelica met Robert Campbell at a fair but didn’t know he was the duke’s son,” Samantha answered. “When my father passed away, Aunt Roxie sent His Grace a note, and he invited us to live with him. Robert promised to get revenge for us. Before that could happen, Venetia Emerson Campbell—Robert’s widowed sister-in-law and Alexander’s sister—tried to kill Angelica. Apparently, Venetia had wanted to be the Duchess of Inverary and had killed her younger sister, Robert’s late wife.

“In an attempt to avoid a scandal, His Grace suggested Venetia and her father be transported to Australia. That left Alexander with the Earl of Winchester title and the family fortune.”

“Why was Alexander spared?” the prince asked.

“Alexander was completely innocent,” she answered. “In fact, Emerson had been trying to have him assassinated—”

“Emerson wanted to kill his own son?” Rudolf interrupted, his expression mirroring his surprise.

“Yes, but I don’t know the reason,” Samantha told him. “Anyway, Alexander wanted to make amends by marrying me. The Douglas lands and fortune would have been returned to us, albeit indirectly through our marriage.”

“Were you the family sacrifice?” Rudolf asked.

“What a horrible thing to say.”

“You do not love him.”

“I respect him.” Samantha blushed, adding, “Ladies who limp aren’t exactly the height of fashion.”

Rudolf covered her hand with his. “Princess, your limp is of no importance.”

“It is important to me,” Samantha said. “Tell me why your father prefers Vladimir.”

The prince’s whole demeanor changed. The smile in his eyes died, replaced by anger and something else. Was it pain she saw? Of course he would be angered by his father imprisoning his mother and hurt by his father’s lack of love. Why would any man do that to the woman he loved? Why would a father reject his oldest son in favor of the second?

Unable to bear the angry pain etched across his face, Samantha wished she hadn’t asked about his father. She dropped her gaze to her plate.

“Let us retire for the night,” Rudolf said, standing and offering her his hand.

Entering their bedchamber, Samantha removed her cloak and tossed it aside. Then she undressed down to her chemise. Protesting his presence would do no good.

Samantha knelt beside the bed and covered her face with her hands. Silently, she prayed,
Thank You, Lord, for allowing us to get this far—

“Samantha?”

Spreading her fingers, she peered at the prince, who sat on the opposite side of the bed to remove his boots. She felt a familiar melting sensation in the pit of her stomach at the sight of his bared chest.

“I apologize for my curtness,” Rudolf said. “However, I do not wish to speak about my father. Please do not ask about him again.”

The prince was a man unused to apologizing, but he was making a good attempt. “I will respect your wishes,” she said.

The prince nodded and seemed to relax.

Thank You, Lord, for the prince’s apology
. Samantha climbed into bed and pulled the coverlet up.

Rudolf climbed into bed beside her. Without asking permission, he drew her against his body, saying, “Come up here, Princess.”

Samantha leaned over him and stared into his black eyes. She studied his face, admiring how the flickering candlelight played across his features.

“Kiss me good night, Princess.”

Samantha smiled and lowered her head until her mouth hovered above his. Her lips touched his, tentatively at first, and then grew bolder, deepening the kiss.

She flicked her tongue across the crease between his lips, as he had done to her and heard with satisfaction his sharp intake of breath. When he opened his mouth, she slipped her tongue inside, their tongues swirling and caressing.

Rudolf entwined his arms around her body and held her firmly, gently. Without warning, he rolled over, and she lay beneath him. He kissed her lingeringly, not giving her a chance to think or protest, planting feathery light kisses on her eyelids, temples, nose, and throat.

“I want to touch you,” Rudolf whispered. “Only touch.”

He didn’t wait for permission.