How to Pursue a Princess (27 page)

“I’m not leaving without Emma,” Huntley said firmly.

Wulf shrugged as if Emma were the last thing on his mind.

Huntley’s face grew sterner.

Lily hid a groan. “Huntley, please, Wulf is right. With the rain coming, the duchess will send everyone home. Emma will be here soon enough.”

“She’ll have to come here,” Wulf said. “The tent’s not large enough to offer shelter for all of the guests.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to find Emma.” The earl held out a hand for Lily. “Shall we?”

She managed a tight smile and said to Wulf, “I
should—” Her gaze locked on his hand, which had just slid into his coat pocket. He pulled it out and there was a linen napkin. Smiling, he unwrapped it and revealed a flaky tart.

Her stomach rumbled and she pressed a hand to it.

Wulf’s eyes gleamed with humor. “Peach.”

Huntley frowned. “Peach? What are—”

Lily whirled on him. “I’m going with the prince.”

“No,” the earl snapped.

Lily raised her brows.

Huntley flushed, but after a brief hesitation said, “You may if you wish, of course, but—”

“I do wish.” God, she could almost smell that peach tart. “Huntley, go. Emma will be waiting.”

Huntley couldn’t have looked more disapproving, but the patter of the rain seemed to make up his mind. “I’ll see you both back at the castle.” He bowed stiffly and stalked off.

The second he was gone, Lily held out her hand. “The tart, Wulf.”

“When we get to the boat.” He took her hand and tugged her down the path to the shore.

“No. I want it
now
.” Her stomach growled again.

He chuckled and handed her the rebundled tart.

She eagerly unwrapped it from the thick linen napkin. “There’s two!”

“You may have them both.”

The scent of warm cinnamon and peach assailed her. She tugged her hood so that it hung well over her face and she could eat the tart without the rain softening
the lovely crust. She’d already devoured one before they reached the shore.

Forced to wrap up the remaining tart before climbing into the punt, she barely noticed that Wulf had waved off the footman and had taken the pole himself.

As soon as she was seated, he planted the pole and pushed the punt out into the lake, the rain pattering softly all around.

She took the opportunity to unwrap the second tart. Her thick cloak soaked in the rain, but as long as she had her tart, she couldn’t care less.

“It’s good, hmm?” Wulf was watching her with a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he navigated the punt across the lake.

“It’s heavenly.” She finished the final flaky bit, wiping her fingers on the napkin before she tucked it into the pocket of her cloak. “I don’t imagine you were carrying peach tarts in your pocket for any reason other than to tempt me.”

“I knew you would be hungry.”

“I was. I was famished, in fact.”

“I don’t blame you. You walked quite a long time.” Wulf wiped the rain from his eyes with his sleeve and raked a hand through his wet hair, revealing the strong lines of his face. Her gaze roamed over him, touching on his broad shoulders and chest, and finally coming to rest on his hands. Instantly she was hit with a memory of the night before, and a tremor raced through her.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.” She tugged her cloak more tightly about her. “As delicious as they were, it was very underhanded of you to lure me into your boat with peach tarts.”

“I’m surprised that you find it surprising. I’ve been very clear, Moya. I will stop at nothing until I can call you my own.” His jaw firmed. “Even if it means letting you spend more time with Huntley, which I do not like, but I promised, so I will do so.”

Lily had just spent several hours with the earl, and right now she felt that to be enough. Yet other than his stubbornness in choosing the wrong path, she could find no fault with his behavior. He was a bit pompous and too concerned with being right, and he hadn’t listened to a single one of her suggestions, but he
had
recognized his shortcomings and apologized.

Still, she’d spent two hours with him—alone, too. But because of her temper and his pride in refusing to admit he was lost, they hadn’t spent their time well at all.

From under her lashes, she watched Wulf as he confidently guided them across the lake. “How did you get the duchess to put you back on her guest list?”

“I asked my grandmother to apologize to her.”

“And she did?”

“With a little persuasion, yes.”

“This ‘persuasion’ didn’t involve holding a pistol to her head, did it?”

He laughed. “No, that was not necessary. But I did tell her that if she did not fix what she’d broken, then
she would be returning to Oxenburg on the next ship to live with my parents. She does not like my father, so after thinking it through, she decided that she was ready to apologize after all.”

“My, you are a miracle worker.”

His gaze touched hers. “I am motivated, Moya. I moved that mountain for us, and I will move more. I will move however many I must.”

If only her problems were so easily solved as his. They reached the dock and Wulf secured the pole and threw the rope to one of the footmen who waited. As soon as they climbed out of the punt, a footman hopped into their boat to return to the island, where the other guests could be seen gathering on the shore.

Wulf took the umbrella from the footman who held it over Lily’s head and sent the man to have his horse brought to the front door.

The prince held the umbrella over them as he slipped a possessive arm around her waist. “Come, Moya. We cannot wait here or you will be wet through and through.”

“I fear it’s too late to worry about that.” They walked back to the castle and she was aware of the strength of the arm around her. Although her cloak was growing heavy with rain, she walked slowly, aware that as soon as she was indoors, they’d go their separate ways.

She never felt sad to see the earl go. And while she could easily see him holding an umbrella for her, walking her to the door, or even punting her across the
lake, she couldn’t imagine that she’d feel the way she did when Wulf did those things.

They reached the portico that protected the front doorway of the castle just as Wulf’s horse was brought from the stable. The door opened and MacDougal appeared, ready to take the umbrella and her wet cloak. They were surrounded by servants.

Wulf took her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Until tomorrow evening, my dear.”

“Tomorrow evening?”

“Why, yes. For dinner. The duchess said there would be dancing, too.”

Lily could barely contain her smile.

He gave her hand a squeeze, and then he turned and went to his horse.

Wet from head to foot and cold through and through, Lily stood under the portico, the rain tinning across the roof as she watched Wulf ride out of the courtyard.

And then, her heart filled with a hundred unanswerable questions, she turned and went inside.

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
The trip to the Roxburghe folly was lovely. Everyone enjoyed it . . . until it began to rain. I had no idea rain could collapse a tent in such a way. Sadly, the majority of the water landed upon the unsuspecting heads of poor Lady MacInnis and Miss Gordon, neither of whom could walk, their skirts and shoes were so filled with water.

The next morning Wulf strode up the winding road to his large manor house, the air especially brisk since his overcoat was still draped over a bench to dry in front of the fire at his cottage. Fortunately the walk to see Tata Natasha had warmed him and he was no longer chilled.

As he arrived, a servant threw open the door and then stood at attention as Wulf entered the foyer. Blue Chinese-silk paper featuring exotic birds cavorting among flowers adorned the foyer walls, while large windows—reflected several times over in a series of
ornate, gold-framed mirrors—gave the impression of splintered light. Wulf rather liked the patterned marble floor and the curving staircase that swept up in a grand arc, but he had no use for the gilt furnishings his grandmother loved to tuck into every corner.

A servant took Wulf’s hat and gloves. “Welcome home, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. I’m only here for a few moments. Arsov is to bring my horse around at ten.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

Wulf reached into his pocket and withdrew some missives. “These need to be delivered to my father as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Your Highness. The messenger he sent is still resting, but is to begin his journey home later tonight.”

“Make it so. Where is my—”

A set of wide, ornate doors opened in a dramatic burst. Framed by the doors and dressed in a black gown and black lace, Tata Natasha pointed a trembling finger at him. “
You!
”

“Yes, it is I. How are you this morning?”

“I am dying for all that you know!”

He looked her up and down. “Actually, you look quite charming today. Is that a new gown?”

She sniffed and crossed her arms over her thin chest. “No one invited you here.”

“Need I remind you that I own this house and everything in it?”

Her chin lifted, her black eyes sparkling. “You may own it, but you do not live here, nor are you welcome.”

“I’m banished, eh?” He bent to kiss her withered cheek, and though she batted at him, reminding him of a fluffed-up cat, it was halfhearted and he knew she was pleased he’d come to visit. “I have a horse being brought around. If you don’t wish me here, I could just lea—”

“Come.” She turned and walked into the sitting room.

Smiling, he followed. The furnishings were sumptuous and had cost him more than he liked to remember. The walls were covered in red silk, the windows flanked by red curtains tied with large, gold tassels, and red-and-gold-striped pillows were tossed onto a bevy of red settees and fat, gold chairs. The entire place looked as if a Chinese silk merchant had dumped all of his wares into this one room and then run away. Wulf stifled a sigh. It was his own fault, as he’d left the furnishing of his new house to Tata—well, all of it with the exception of the master suite. Wulf had asked Arsov to oversee that task, which had irked Tata no end. But thanks to Arsov, the master suite, a monstrous room indeed, was done in a masculine but elegant style.

Sadly, the rest of the house was all Tata, who had filled it with the most expensive and gaudy furnishings and decorations she could find. He started to walk toward the fire but found his way blocked by not one, but four small red cushioned ottomans. “This room looks like a brothel.”

“What?” Tata’s voice crackled.

He raised his voice. “I said, ‘This room is beautiful.’ ”

She sniffed, although he could tell she was pleased. “It is well.”

She gestured to a settee, but he shook his head. “I’ve only a minute. I’m to ride this morning with some of the duchess’s guests.”

Her lips thinned and she perched on the settee and scowled. “You ride with Miss Balfour.”

“No, with several gentlemen, including the Earl of Huntley.”

“Huntley? Why would you ride with him?”

“Perhaps I am on a secret mission.”

“And perhaps you have been drinking, though it is not yet ten in the morning.”

He chuckled and leaned against the fireplace.

She gathered her black shawl closer. “What do you want, that you come so early?”

“What? I cannot visit my favorite grandmother without a reason?”

“No,” she said baldly.

“Tata Natasha, don’t look so bitter. You cannot still be angry with me for making you apologize to the duchess.”

“I will be angry with you until the day I die.”

“It is a waste of time and energy, Tata. But if you wish to be angry . . .” He shrugged.

She scowled, but after a moment said, “Have you had breakfast?”

“Arsov brought me breakfast hours ago. I came to send a missive to my father.”

“Couldn’t Arsov have done that for you?”

“Yes, if he’d been available, but he’s here caring for the horses. My only regret about the cottage is the lack of a proper stable. I can only keep one horse there at a time.”

“Do not complain to me. I warned you of the consequences of living beneath your rank.”

“Pah. According to you, men of my rank should attend endless dances and balls, speak pretty words that have no meaning, and devote themselves to mindless pleasures. I am not such a man.”

Her mouth puckered as if she’d sucked a lemon. “You have come to torment me.”

“
Nyet.
I came to ask if you’d like an escort to the dinner and dance at the duchess’s tomorrow evening. Do you go?”

She muttered something under her breath.

“The Duchess of Roxburghe is not an ill-mannered witch,” he chided.

“You don’t know her the way I do. You are too trusting, like a babe in the woods.” Tata’s gaze narrowed. “Miss Balfour will be there, I suppose?”

“I can only hope.” He’d slept little last night, thinking of Lily. She’d looked bedraggled and forlorn when he’d left her after the rain.
That is good. Maybe she wished you to stay but did not dare ask.

Tata’s expression softened. “Wulf, I worry for you.”

“Why?”

“You are not yourself.”

“I’m in love, Tata. That is the grandest adventure of all.”

Tata didn’t smile. “I don’t wish to see you hurt. You have been spoiled, Wulf. Everything you wanted—horses, pistols, women—they have all been given to you. Now, you face the reality of a woman who may not be for you.”

“She will be mine. I won’t accept anything else.”

Tata’s brow furrowed. “There are no guarantees in love. If this Lily does not do as you hope, and if she marries Huntley as the duchess wishes her to . . . what then? What will you do?”

Wulf’s chest tightened.
Then a part of me will never live again.
He curled his hands into fists. “I will go home and help Father.”

“And marry as he wishes you to?”

“No. I will never marry. If I do not have Lily, then I will have no one.”

“Never?”

“Never.”