Wicked in Your Arms (Forgotten Princesses #1)(34)

With a cool voice she was much proud of, she suggested, “It would behoove us not to waste too much time contemplating each other, do you not agree, Your Highness?” She placed emphasis on his title, letting it stand between them as a reminder of the gulf that forever separated them.

He stared at her for some time before answering. “Indeed so, Miss Hadley.”

The grooms were upon them now. And not a moment too soon as far as she was concerned.

“We’re quite well,” Prince Sevastian assured the concerned faces staring down at them. “Thank you for your hasty rescue. Just a slight mishap. Nothing to fret over. Miss Hadley here is quite chilled, however. Would one of you see her to the house at once? I’m quite well enough to walk the rest of the way.”

A groom hastily dismounted and gave up his mount for her.

“That’s not necessary,” she objected.

Her arguments were silenced with a wave of the prince’s hand. She glanced at each of the grooms’ faces. They looked only at the prince, eager for his next command. Nothing she said would sway them.

Sighing, she held her tongue. Best to let people think she was the missish type of female who gets chilled and cannot walk out of doors. Besides, she didn’t want the staff gossiping that she was some hot-blooded virago. She already had a strike against her with her father in tow.

She narrowed her gaze at the prince standing so stalwart in the morning wind. As if nothing untoward had occurred. He didn’t spare her a glance even as she couldn’t stop devouring the sight of him. Her cheeks blazed afire.

Perhaps he only wished to be rid of her and that’s why he wished to send her ahead. A groom assisted her as if she were some delicate lady who could not manage. In moments, she was riding at a ridiculously slow dawdle, led by the groom who gave up his seat for her. She sent a glance over her shoulder at the prince, speculating that his strides might very well overtake her.

He gazed straight ahead, his eyes unreadable beneath his slash of dark brows. Sucking in a deep breath, she faced forward again and plodded ahead, letting him fall behind as she waited for the house to appear.

By the time Sev reached the house, he had done nothing to exorcise Miss Hadley from his thoughts. He spent the half-hour walk attempting to persuade himself that he merely craved a woman and not her specifically. One of the comely housemaids whose eyes followed him about hungrily should satisfy his needs.

There was no glimpse of Miss Hadley upon entering the high vaulted-ceiling foyer and his heart sank with a disappointment he couldn’t deny. There was something about her—a fire, a passion he had not seen since before the war. She was no simpering, na?ve, spoiled miss. She possessed an air, a certain knowledge of life and, perhaps most astounding of all, she wasn’t jaded for it.

His steps echoed a lonely sound across the aged marble as he moved toward the grand staircase.

It already seemed long ago that he had held her with winter winds buffeting them on all sides. If the sweet taste of her didn’t linger on his mouth, he might have convinced himself the entire encounter had not occurred. Surely only in a dream would he have disregarded logic and acted so rashly.

What on earth motivated him to kiss a marriage-minded female he had no intention of wooing for the purpose of matrimony? His goal was clear. He’d traveled to England for one reason only and he needn’t waste his time chasing after an ineligible female.

And yet somehow, in the course of their brief acquaintance, she had transformed in his mind. He no longer saw the unfortunate sun-browned, freckled female with the unfashionable hair and miserable pedigree. No. He saw a strong, enticing female who would do quite well in his bed. Too bad she was not angling for the position of mistress.

Shaking his head as if that might free him of such a pointless wish, he entered his chamber, startling his valet from where he dozed in the chair by the window.

“Your Highness? Back already?” The elderly man had been his father’s valet and closest friend. His brother had inherited him first, then Sev next. There was no question that he should find a younger, spry valet. As long as Ilian was willing, he would serve as valet to the Crown Prince of Maldania. Tradition was not something to be tossed aside lightly, especially one involving Ilian.

For some reason the thought of tradition only further drove home how wholly inappropriate his feelings for Miss Hadley happened to be. She was an heiress hunting for a husband, and he best not dally with such a female.

“I’ll ring a bath for you.” Ilian’s joints cracked as he passed Sev.

He spared the man who was like family to him a tender smile. “Thank you, Ilian.”

His valet nodded. “Can’t have you looking mussed if we’re to woo the future queen.”

Sev’s smile slipped further. His mind drifted to the lovely Lady Libbie, feeling strangely empty as he imagined her as his bride. “No. We can’t have that.”

A short time later he was the first to arrive in the dining room, but he was not to be alone for long.

His cousin entered the room as he was cutting into a fat kipper. Sevastian greeted him with a nod, studying Malcolm’s back as he moved to the sideboard and made himself a generous plate of food.

Malcolm tugged down his jacket as he seated himself, and Sev couldn’t help noticing it had already grown snug in the fortnight they’d spent together. A definite paunch had grown there since Sev located him in his rented rooms in Seven Dials—a far cry from the fashionable lodgings Sev had expected to find him occupying.