Page 63 of A Problem Princess

As if he could feel her watching him, he assured her quietly, “You’re not Princess Sophia, if that’s what’s worrying you.” Then, in a low mutter beneath his breath she was certain she wasn’t meant to hear, he added, “Not by a goodly ways.”

His words would have pleased her if she wasn’t already so troubled by other thoughts.

She frowned and asked the question that had been poised on her tongue since the night they met. “But you’ve kissed other ladies at court, surely.” Lots of women, lots of kisses…lots of all kinds of other things she didn’t dare let herself contemplate. “Duchesses and countesses…women in positions of influence and power…”

“So have many, many men.” He turned toward her and leaned forward, elbows on knees. His gaze narrowed as it fixed on her. “What exactly it is that you want to know about me, Princess?”

“I want to know—” She pulled in a deep breath and began again with a shake of her head, “I don’t understand why you’re bothering with me, why you’re risking your life for mine.”Why you would kiss me the way you did. She fought back a blush. He’d done far more than simply kiss her, and she feared she knew exactly why. “If not…”

“If not?” he pressed.

“If not for your own personal gain,” she finished quietly. Somehow she found the courage to maintain eye contact. “Men often pretend to like me just to earn my favor at court. They flatter and flirt, steal kisses, and claim dances whenever they can.” Putting voice to her gullibility embarrassed her, but it needed to be said. “When they learn that I’m unable to grant them titles or government positions, they want nothing more to do with me. I’ve learned not to take it personally, yet it still stings.” She paused, then confessed, “And I’d very much like to avoid the sting of you.”

He didn’t move, not to laugh off her accusations or become enraged. Instead, he calmly asked, “You think I’m someone who would use you?”

“I think you’re ambitious.”Too much so.“And I don’t know what to make of the attentions you’ve shown me.”

“I am ambitious, but I earn the accolades I’m given. And I’ve shown you attention only because I enjoy your company.” His gaze turned piercing. “I am not one of those other men.”

Before she could say anything more, he rose up and pounded his fist against the compartment roof. The carriage slowed, and Clayton opened the window to call up to the driver to stop.

“We’ll rest here a few minutes,” he ordered the driver. Then he returned to his seat and nodded at the small bag that Madame had provided, tucked against the seat at Cordelia’s feet. “You need to change out of your gown. We’re almost to Chelmsford. We’ll leave the carriage there and catch the mail coach the rest of the way to the coast.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“I’ll wait outside. You can draw all the curtains, and I’ll keep my back to the carriage and the driver and tigers will remain up top.” He reached for the door. “No one will—”

“I can’t,” she repeated and placed her hand on his arm to stop him. “I can’t…undress myself.”

He froze. He stared at her hand as it rested on his sleeve, then slowly raised his eyes to hers.

“I have a dresser named Braun who puts me in and out of my gowns,” she explained, suddenly flushed. “I’m certain the dress Madame provided is a simple day dress, and I should be able to manage it and the—” She choked on the word. “And the undergarments by myself.” Heavens, how warm it had suddenly become inside the compartment! “But I can’t remove this gown without help.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his gaze, although with a touch of embarrassment and through lowered lashes. “Would you…undress me?”

He didn’t move, but his muscles tensed beneath her fingertips.

“It will only take a moment,” she said nervously. “Besides, I’m certain I’m not the first woman you’ve helped out of her evening gown.”

Her teasing quip fell flat, and his expression remained just as stony as before.

She bit her lip and looked up toward the top of the carriage. “I suppose I can ask the tiger for help, if you’re not willing.”

His jaw clenched hard. “Turn around.”

Her victory gave her no pleasure. She stood, careful not to put too much weight onto her unsteady ankle. Crouching in the small compartment, she turned her back to him.

For a long moment, he didn’t move, simply remaining on the seat. Then her heart lurched into her throat when his fingers brushed against her bodice. He carefully slipped free each pearl button, one at a time, and slowly worked his way down her back. Her bodice sagged around her shoulders and bosom, and when the last button came undone, the silk dress slipped down her body. She let it puddle on the floor around her feet, not bothering to catch it or attempt to cover herself.

Behind her, he sucked in a mouthful of air.

The bare skin on her arms and upper back prickled with goose bumps, and not because of the damp, cold day. Suddenly, breathing evenly was impossible, and she could sense his warmth behind her, even from two feet away. She felt his gaze on her back, as surely as if his hands were on her, caressing slowly over her and exploring her body.

“And my stays.” She swallowed. Hard. “Would you remove those, too?”

A long moment passed before she felt him reach again for her back, this time for the long lace that tied her short corset. She felt it slip loose as he started at the top and slowly pulled it free, one long and slow pull of his fingers at a time.

She closed her eyes at the torturous nearness of his hands. He was careful not to touch the bare skin above her stays, so careful not to accidentally brush his knuckles against her shift, but he couldn’t stop the heat of his hands from seeping through the thin undergarments and into her skin.

Her belly tightened so much with each pull of the loosening tie that it ached…and so did another part of her, from lower beneath her petticoat.