Page 72 of A Problem Princess

“I’m sad to see the day end.” Her voice was as quiet as the dusk settling around them. A stray lock of her chestnut hair came loose from her chignon in the soft breeze, but instead of simply tucking it behind her ear, Cordelia reached up to remove all the pins and toss them into the basket. She ran her hand through her hair to let it stir free around her shoulders, not caring that she was being far too casual. “For the first time in my life, I was simply myself, and not one person cared who I was.”

She reached out to place her hand over his where it rested on his coat, but her gaze remained on the scene below.

“Today was a special gift for me.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m more grateful for it than you’ll ever know. Thank you.”

Then she kissed him.

He caught his breath and froze beneath the warm temptation of her lips, the silkiness of her hair as it brushed gently against his cheeks on the lilting breeze, the softness of her body as she leaned into his. For an instant, the world froze around them, and he was aware only of her sweet scent that reminded him of strawberries and cream and the featherlight caresses of her lips. It was only a kiss of gratitude, only a small touch of her lips to his. But it shook him to his core because he wanted so much more.

How easy it would be to pull her into his arms and onto his lap, to ravish her mouth and claim every forbidden taste of her kisses, then lay her down on the grass and claim even more—

How easy to lose everything over a woman who could never be his.

He climbed to his feet, then cleared his throat and forced a smile. “You’re welcome.”

Damnation, he felt like an utter idiot for saying that. But something had to be said, and he sure as hell couldn’t utter the truth…If you kiss me like that again, I will no longer care that you’re a princess and I’m a soldier. I will make you want me as much as I crave you. I will strip you bare, lick over every inch of you, and take my pleasure between your thighs until you cry out in shuddering release.

But she continued to stare up at him, an unreadable expression on her shadow-darkened face. She waited for the explanation he couldn’t give without breaking her heart.

Somewhere amid palace garden parties, opera arias, and all the miles between London and here, he’d begun to care about her. She’d become far more to him than a princess.

The blasted woman had burned her way into his heart. And if he wasn’t careful…

We will both be destroyed by the flames.

Twenty-Two

Cordelia said nothing on the long, silent walk back to the cottage, nor when Clayton securely locked them inside for the night and then began to search the little house to make certain no one had sneaked in while they’d been out.

But when he went upstairs to search the bedroom, she couldn’t simply wait silently down in the sitting room. No, the long walk from the bluff had given her time to make a decision. The most important one so far in her life.

Her heart pounded so hard that each beat reverberated against her chest as she followed him silently upstairs, and her hands trembled no matter how tightly she wrapped them in her skirts to keep them still. She stood at the top of the stairway in the shadow of the lamplight and watched as he opened the armoire and then grimaced at Madame’s collection of not-so-warm nightgowns.

“I don’t want this day to end,” she said quietly.

“Sunset says otherwise, I’m afraid,” he replied dryly and shut the armoire doors.

“I mean that it’s too special to me to let go of it so soon.” She stepped out of her slippers and left them at the top of the stairs, then slowly came forward into the room. “So I’ve made a decision.”

“Oh?” He knelt beside the bed to look beneath it.

“I want to be just an ordinary woman for the night.” Her trembling hand went to the short row of buttons at the back of her dress, and she slipped them free. “And I want to be that woman…with you.”

He sank back on his heels and watched, stunned, as her dress fell to the floor.

She stood before him in only her undergarments, trembling in nervousness. He’d liked her kisses, had told her she was beautiful. Yet she couldn’t help but worry about what he truly thought of her. A man like him had surely been with dozens of beautiful women far more alluring than she was, far more sophisticated, while she…she simply needed him.

But when he drifted his gaze over her, the heat she saw in his eyes emboldened her. She wrapped her fingers in the front tie of her short corset, tugged it free, and dropped it to the floor.

“Stop,” he ordered, his voice suddenly hoarse. He remained squatting on the floor, as if he didn’t have the wherewithal to remember to stand.

“Why?” She reached down and untied her petticoat. It spilled onto the floor with her dress.

“You damned well know why.” Yet it wasn’t anger that filled his voice but desire.

“Because I’ll be ruined? That doesn’t matter.” She reached beneath her shift to untie her right garter. “I could run naked through Paris and no one would care as long as I still possess the ability to produce male heirs. Let’s be honest. That’s all I’m good for as far as the world is concerned.” She rolled the stocking down her leg, over her foot, and off, then mumbled thoughtfully as she let it slide through her fingers to the floor. “But you’ve always thought so much more of me.”

When she removed the second stocking and dropped it away, he rose to his full height but remained where he was. Tension radiated from him so intensely that the air pulsed with it as she slowly approached him on bare feet.