Penelope and Prince Charming (Nvengaria #1)(65)

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lie here with him, neither of them worrying about their state of undress and what each looked like to the other. Happiness seeped into Penelope’s bones and for some reason made her want to wriggle her toes.

“I love you, Damien,” she said softly.

Damien smiled down at her, lashes sweeping to hide his eyes, but she saw the flicker of triumph in them. “Good.”

He drew the cloth over her thighs again, although she reasoned she must be clean. The cloth left a dampness behind that air touched and made cool.

“I cannot tell you it will be easy,” he said. “I wish that I could.”

“Because Grand Duke Alexander is trying to kill you?”

“More than that.” His look turned serious. “My father nearly destroyed Nvengaria. It needs something to bring it back to its feet, something to believe in. They want the princess even more than they want the Imperial Prince. That is why they cheered me as I rode from the gates, because I would bring you back with me.”

“Oh.” Penelope closed her eyes, liking the feel of the cloth moving in little circles on her skin. “What do they want me to do?”

“I do not believe they wish you to do anything. They simply want you to be.”

Penelope opened her hands. “That does not sound very difficult.”

“It will be, love.” His voice was somber. “They will want to love you, body and soul. They already do love you, the princess who will restore Nvengaria.”

Trepidation fluttered through Penelope’s heart, and she opened her eyes. “What if they are disappointed? Your people are rather volatile, Damien. What if they decide to not accept me?” She imagined being chased through the gates of a mountain town, people driving her forth with pitchforks and swords.

Damien shook his head. “You have seen how Sasha and my entourage regard you. They have already decided you are the perfect princess and will do anything for you. Even Petri, the most skeptical of men, has embraced you, so to speak. He is enormously pleased that we will marry.”

Penelope knew this responsibility Damien was thrusting upon her should worry her. She was not a princess; she was Penelope Trask, twice a jilt with no prospects, with no idea how to be an important lady, wife to a prince. But somehow, in the afterglow of joining with him, the danger and difficulty seemed far away, unreal.

Perhaps her lethargy came from the prophecy, willing her not to resist. She had come to believe in this arcane magic that had changed her. She ought to have fought hard, not succumbed when Damien carried her off into the meadow and began to kiss her. But at the time, it hadn’t seemed wrong to let him kiss her and whisper naughty things to her.

Likewise, it did not feel wrong to roll over and caress Damien’s strong thigh and smile when he eased his hand through her hair. They were not married, at least, not by English standards, and yet, she felt no shame in lying here with him.

“Will you and Sasha tell me what to do when we get there?” Penelope smothered a yawn. Strangely, the more she tried to focus on the daunting task, the more languid she became.

“We will not let you fall, Penelope.” Damien’s voice wrapped itself around her.

Penelope smiled, drowsy, imagining him holding her up in his powerful hands. Perhaps it would be all right. Perhaps the people of Nvengaria would ride out to meet her, banners waving, children shouting, men and women cheering. They would be like the Nvengarians Damien had brought with him to England, wild and strong, but fiercely loyal.

“Tell me a story,” she said sleepily. She kissed his knee, inhaling his masculine scent. “About Nvengaria.”

“Another fairy tale?” Damien asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes. You said you’d tell them to me in bed, ’member?”

“So I did.” Damien set the cloth aside and lay down with her. His large body, warm and long at her side, made her feel comforted and protected. “You rest, and I’ll tell you about the princess and the logosh.”

Penelope shivered, but she no longer felt frightened of the logosh. “Does it have a happy ending?”

“It does.”

“Tell it to me, then.” She moved until she could kiss his lips, then she snuggled down into the crook of his arm.

Damien smoothed his hand down her body. “Once upon a time,” he murmured, “there was a beautiful princess.”

And Penelope fell asleep.



* * *



Hours later, Damien jumped awake.

The room was still, the afternoon air hot. It was also silent. He heard no sound from the house, no sound from outside the windows. He wondered if the guests, exhausted from the hunt and the heat, had returned to the house to rest.

Damien had been amused when Penelope had drifted off as he’d begun the story. He’d kissed her closed eyes, then stretched out to wait for her to wake up.

He must have fallen asleep as well, tired by his frenzied lovemaking. Being inside Penelope had been as fine as he’d expected. He warmed, remembering the brief bite of her fingers, the heat of her frantic breath, how beautiful her face looked softened in passion, and the sweet cries of desire that she could not control.

His cock hardened even as he drifted to sleep. Later, he’d turn her onto her back and awaken her by sliding softly into her …

Damien jerked awake again. Nothing had changed. Penelope slept on beside him, her body limp, her head pillowed on her bent arm.