The Prince Who Loved Me Part 28

"Only one? I am disappointed."

She smiled. "You once said I should live in the moment, and not so much in my books. Over the years, books have become my companions. I could travel without traveling, meet people without leaving Dingwall, become someone else when my life seemed too much. Feel without really feeling."

"A waste of a good life."

"Yes. I want to live as well as read. So"-she spread her hands-"I am doing just that. But I have a question for you, and you must answer it now, before this continues."

"Da?"

"Am I a pa.s.sing fancy, to be forgotten the second you leave?"

"No, Roza." His voice deepened. "If I were to live a thousand years, I could never, ever forget you."

The words soothed her, and his s.e.xy smile told her he desired her as much as ever. It wasn't love, of course. But he'd never promised her that, and she'd never asked. It was what it was, and that was enough for this moment. Isn't it? Can it be?

She turned away from Alexsey's watchful gaze under the pretense of examining the room. It was twice as big as the sitting room at Ackinnoull Manor. At one end stood a large bed, hung with red velvet curtains and piled high with snow-white pillows and sheets. A deep-blue coverlet was neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Just looking at the bed made her chest feel odd.

She'd come here to talk to him, to look into his eyes and know for certain that he wasn't less than the man she'd come to know. But she'd also come for something else: more memories. More of him. Before he leaves.

Her gaze returned to him, and she realized all he wore was a loose white shirt tucked into black breeches. The shirt was untied at his neck and revealed his strong throat. His black hair was mussed as if he'd run his hand through it several times, and his eyes were bright with curiosity.

Funny, but she hadn't thought past climbing into his room. Now here she was, punch-drunk on her own bravado, and with nothing to say. She knew what she wanted, though.

The deepening of his gaze told her that he knew, too.

Lifting her chin, she untied her cloak and tossed it over a nearby chair. "I won't be needing this."

"No you won't." He chuckled and walked toward her. Never had he looked more lionlike than now, his muscled thighs rippling as he approached her, his broad shoulders outlined against the fire. She remembered how easily he'd plucked her from the trellis and her skin warmed, as if she were already in his arms.

He stopped in front of her and ran the back of his hand down her cheek. "I am so glad you came to me."

"So am I."

"You look cold." He picked her up as if it were the most natural thing, and carried her to the fire. He hooked his foot about a chair leg and turned the chair closer to the flames, and then sat, cradling her to him.

He grinned, his teeth white in the dim room. "There. You like, nyet?"

She rested her head against his shoulder. "I like, yes."

"Good." He paused to slip her spectacles from her face and place them on the small table at their side. "There. More comfortable?"

"Much more comfortable."

It was quite warm wrapped in his arms, toastier than any fireplace. Since they'd sat down, his hands had never been still, one stroking her back, the other her knee.

She looked at his hand, noting the signet ring with the gleaming emerald. He had such beautiful hands. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine them touching her, stroking her, making her writhe against him. The memory made her squirm.

Alexsey's hands stilled, then clasped her to him. "Please do not move like that, Roza."

Startled by the husky tension in his voice, she turned to look at him.

His jaw was tight, his mouth pressed into a white line.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? I'll get up-"

As she moved, his arms tightened. "Just . . . stay still a moment so I can compose myself."

She clamped her lips over the rest of her sentence and sat quietly until his breathing slowed. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what happened."

His smile was tight, but less pained. "A man's excitement can only be repressed for so long. I have been thinking and dreaming about you all day, and I am a powder keg. And now you are here, the match to my powder."

She smiled. "Perhaps we should explore this powder keg of yours more closely."

His eyes darkened, and he whispered, "Where have you been all my life?"

She felt her smile quaver as she whispered back, "Waiting for you."

His arms tightened about her. "You have taken a great chance this evening. I am honored."

"I surprised myself. I never imagined I'd do anything like this-visiting a man in his bedchamber."

"The Romany would say your spirit is as strong as it is beautiful. There is no higher compliment among them."

"One day I would like to meet them."

"We will visit them in the fall, when they return after their summer travels."

And just like that, he enfolded her into his future. It was imaginary, of course, but lovely all the same. "I would like that."

"It is beautiful, Roza-tents and caravans as far as the eye can see, all lit with gay lights." As he spoke, he slowly ran his hand up and down her back. "There are a thousand campfires, and songs aplenty. The music pulls at the heart."

"And one day, you will lead them."

His smile disappeared, a sudden darkness resting on his face. "I will," he said grimly. "There is more than one way to find your destiny."

She tilted her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, little one. A small obstacle I must overcome, that is all."

He looked so serious that she impulsively caught his face between her hands and nuzzled his neck. "You may overcome it tomorrow. Tonight there is us, and nothing else."

His breath quickened as she trailed her lips to his ear.

"Please," she whispered, trying unsuccessfully to keep the quiver from her voice.

"Of course, Roza. Just us." Without another word, he stood and carried her to his bed.

Roland looked at Lucinda's small hand, tucked into his. There were times in a man's life when a decision had to be made. Now was that time, and his heart warmed at the thought.

-The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth Bronwyn slowly came awake, aware of a comforting weight about her waist. She opened her eyes and, in the flickering light of the candle, saw Alexsey's arm wrapped about her, his chest pressed to her back as he cuddled her to him, their legs entwined.

Memories of the night before teased her further awake. What a glorious night. She smiled and settled against him, the soft sheets tangled about them both. She felt warm, and safe, and loved.

Yet there was a deep chasm between them, one made from their desires and their positions in life. It was as if they were in the same book, but on far different pages.

She trailed her fingers over his muscular arm, and was overcome by the desire to bask in his warmth.

Despite all the love stories she'd read, she hadn't understood the power of pa.s.sion or the pain of one's own pride. Just thinking about never seeing Alexsey again caused an almost physical pang in her chest. When the time comes, I will have to let him go and I will have to do it with a smile.

She swallowed to keep the tears at bay. She wouldn't-couldn't-make this difficult for him, pleading her love, wishing he could care for her the way she cared for him. So she would leave before he awoke, before he could read the truth in her eyes. Steeling herself, she slowly slipped out of bed. As silently as she could, she washed and dressed, finally collecting her cloak.

Tiptoeing, she made her way to the window. Rather than risk being caught by a footman inside, she'd climb down the trellis. The full moon would light her way well enough.

She reached for the sash-and then froze. Along the bottom of the curtain was a thin line of light. Sunlight.

Her heart pounding, she turned and looked at the clock on the mantel.

It wasn't the middle of the night, but morning.

Trying not to panic, she opened the curtain a crack and saw several guests walking below, dressed for a hunt. Bronwyn closed her eyes. Dear G.o.d, what do I do now? I'll be missed at Ackinnoull soon, if I haven't already been.

She turned toward the door. If she walked confidently enough, she could simply go down the stairs and out through the garden. Once she was free of Tulloch, she could say she'd just gone out for a morning walk. No one would suspect a thing, then.

Crossing the room, she paused by the bed and looked at Alexsey. As she'd guessed, he slept boldly naked, his body rivaling every Greek statue she'd ever seen. Her fingers itched to run along the muscles of his thigh, to encircle his powerful arms and trace the lines of his broad chest. But more than that, she wished to feel the steady thrum of his heart under her cheek once more.

She curled her fingers into her palms and turned away. Moving quietly, she crossed to the door and carefully unlocked it. She opened it a crack and peeked into the hallway.

It was thankfully empty.

Relieved, she slipped out into the hall, softly closing the door behind her.

Then she walked confidently forward- "Miss Murdoch?"

Bronwyn froze, then turned around to see Lord and Lady Duncan standing by the top of the steps with Mrs. MacPherson. They were all blinking with surprise.

Oh no!

Mrs. MacPherson gave a breathless giggle. "I didn't know you'd decided to join the house party! I wonder why Sir Henry a.s.signed you to this wing?"

Bronwyn forced a smile. "I'm sure I don't know."

Lord Duncan said in a confidential tone, "The east wing is much better. There's gas lighting in every room."

Lady Duncan nodded in agreement. "We're here to collect Lord Strathmoor. He's to hunt with us this morning and-" Her eyes widened as they suddenly looked over Bronwyn's shoulder. Lady Duncan's mouth dropped open.

Mrs. MacPherson turned bright red and stared as well, while Lord Duncan harrumphed and said, "I never!"

Slowly, afraid of what she'd see, Bronwyn turned around.

Standing in the doorway of the room she'd just been seen leaving was Alexsey. Her spectacles hung from one of his hands, while the other covered a critical part of his spectacularly naked body.

Tata stomped up and down the room, again stopping where Alexsey sprawled in a chair by the fire, his hooded gaze locked on the flames.

She clenched her fists. "You fool! You- She-I never- Pah! How could you be so stupid?"

He still seemed lost in thought, not acknowledging her now any more than he had when she'd first entered the room over a half hour ago.

"You aren't listening to me! You never have! If you had, you wouldn't be in this predicament!" She whirled on her heel and stomped up and down the room again. "How did I come to have such fools for grandsons? None of you will marry to suit your father's honor. Look at Wulf, who married a n.o.body! A n.o.body-"

"Whom the people love."

His sudden reply made her turn. "Finally, you speak."

"Wulf married well, and you know it. She's made him very happy."

"She's naught but a dressmaker."

"Who, with her dress designs, has made Oxenburg lace worth ten times what it was before. Because of her, there are widows who can now afford to put meat upon their tables, girls who will marry with full dowers, children who will have shoes and clothes, and-"

"Pah!"

His gaze narrowed. "You took credit for that marriage."

She planted herself before his chair. "Only because I had no choice. He was wildly in love with her. And while she was not of the bloodlines I'd have liked, she is a strong woman. They will have strong children."

"You are not so generous in your estimation of Bronwyn."

"She is a mouse who quakes at the thought of speaking to her partner at a dinner party!"

She'd expected to infuriate him, but a faint smile touched his mouth. "And yet I have never met such a stubborn, strong woman." Faint amus.e.m.e.nt warmed his eyes. "Even you and my mother pale in contrast."

Tata frowned. "You sound as if you admire her."

"I do. Very much."

"And yet you ruined her!"

"I did, didn't I?" A wondering smile touched his mouth. "And with all of the pleasure in the world."

"Nyet, nyet! You don't understand what that means in this country! In ours, it would mean you owe her family a bride gift to be pa.s.sed on to her chosen husband. There is no shame in that; it is the way of the world. But here, it means you are expected to marry her yourself!"

He met her gaze steadily. "I knew that before I 'ruined' her."

"And yet you took the risk?"

That odd smile returned, a look of wonder in his eyes. "It wasn't a risk."

"Pah! As the lord of the land, Sir Henry must demand you offer for her. But you've told me a hundred times that you never wished to marry, so you must leave."