The Princess and the Peer (14 page)

A laugh burst from his throat. Despite knowing he ought to refuse her request, he turned and reached for a second snifter. He poured himself a hearty draft, then added a shallow splash in the other glass for her.

“I feel as if I’m corrupting you, you know,” he remarked, as he crossed to hand her the snifter before taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite.

Her vivid eyes twinkled. “Surely a tiny bit of corruption can’t hurt?”

“Hah!” he barked. “I shall have to remember to use that as an excuse the next time I’m called to task for some morally ambiguous infraction.”

“Do you commit those often? Morally ambiguous infractions, that is?” She angled her head, meeting his gaze with interest.

He couldn’t hide his answering smile. “That, my dear young woman, is for me to know and you not to find out.”

Her gaze lowered at that, her pale lashes fanning like corn silk against her cheeks. Suddenly she lifted the brandy glass to her lips and took a swallow—too large a swallow, he realized, as a sputtering cough rose from her lungs. Bending double, she covered her mouth with a hand as the paroxysms continued.

Hurrying to her side, he rubbed a smoothing palm across her shoulders. “Breathe slowly,” he told her. “The worst will pass in a few moments. Shall I get you some water?”

She shook her head, coughing another pair of times before the bout ended and she was able to pull in several bracing lungfuls of air. Seeing her watering eyes, Nick offered her his handkerchief.

Silently, she accepted and dabbed the moisture away. “How can you drink that?” she gasped in a faint voice. “It’s ghastly.”

“An acquired taste and skill. It’s best when sipped, which you seem to have a penchant for not doing.”

As if determined to prove that she was worthy of the challenge, she raised the glass again and took a cautious sip, then moments later, a second. She shuddered and set the snifter onto a side table. “I do not think you will have to worry about corrupting me with brandy, after all.”

He leaned back against the sofa cushions, enchanted by the burst of color staining her creamy cheeks and ripe mouth. “That comes as a great relief. One less blemish on my record.”

She linked her hands in her lap, her gaze lowering again.

Studying her, he wondered at her sudden reserve.

“I have been thinking, my lord,” she said at length.

“Yes? About what?”

“My boon. Winner’s choice, if you will recall.”

“I do. And what prize have you selected?” Casually, he raised his glass and took a drink.

Slowly her eyes rose to meet his. “Another small bit of corruption. I want you to kiss me.”

E
mma’s heart beat as if a thousand tiny birds were trapped inside her chest, all fighting at once to be free. She swallowed past her still-burning throat, relieved that she’d finally found the nerve to ask Nick the one question she’d been wanting to ask him all evening.

The idea had occurred to her not long after she’d strolled into the drawing room before dinner and found him there alone. The way he’d looked at her with his intense silvery eyes had made her tremble, and for the faintest instant she’d wondered if he was going to kiss her. But then he’d looked away, his expression wiped clean of all but his usual sardonic amusement.

Studying him afterward, she found herself wondering if she might have imagined the entire event.

But whether his intention to kiss her had been real or simply a case of wishfulness on her part, she couldn’t get the idea of kissing him out of her mind. Even while they talked and ate and laughed, a tiny part of her brain had continued to mull over the possibilities. That’s when she’d thought about the wager—and the “winner’s choice” that was her prerogative to decide.

Still, claiming a kiss as a boon was extremely daring. Even Ariadne, who barely understood the meaning of the word
fear
, would have hesitated over so bold a move.

Do I dare?
she’d debated as she and Nick lingered over their desserts.

It wasn’t exactly proper for an unmarried woman to ask a man to kiss her, most especially an unmarried, about-to-be-engaged royal princess. But wasn’t that precisely why she ought to ask? Why she should seize her opportunities while she still had the chance?

As she’d reminded herself when she’d agreed to spend the week here in Nick’s town house, these few days would likely be her only chance to explore a side of life from which she would otherwise be barred. Her only chance to be Emma rather than Her Royal Highness Princess Emmaline. Actually, she couldn’t think of a time when she had been allowed to be herself without all the trappings and expectations that came with being born royal. Even at school, she had been separate, apart. Only Ariadne and Mercedes understood because they were princesses just as she was.

But Nick knew none of that, instead believing her to be a rather ordinary young woman in need of his help. Although ordinary might not be the right term, considering what she’d just asked him to do!

She could have waited a little longer to call in her boon, she supposed. But she knew herself well enough to realize that it was tonight or never. If she couldn’t muster the courage now, she never would again.

For in spite of her hesitation, she knew three things for certain: She wanted to know what it was like to kiss a man who wasn’t some handpicked consort approved by her brother. She longed to embrace someone she genuinely liked, someone who made the breath catch in her lungs and her toes curl inside her shoes with tingling anticipation. And, most of all, she wanted to know what it felt like to kiss Dominic Gregory.

And so she’d drunk a bit too much wine at dinner, then tried—and failed—to drink something even stronger afterward.

Then, before she’d given herself any more time to consider, the words had come tumbling out.

Words that now hung between them.

Words that could never be taken back.

Across from her, Nick stared, an arrested expression on the angular planes of his face. He studied her as if trying to solve some unfathomable puzzle before he tossed back half the brandy in his glass with a swallow that would have scalded holes in her throat.

“I take back my earlier appraisal,” he said in a dry tone. “You are foxed after all.”

“I am not. I know exactly what I said… and what I want,” she told him with gentle determination. “It has nothing to do with the amount of drink I’ve had.”

“It would be easier if it did,” he murmured under his breath. “Choose something else.”

She drew back her shoulders, the arrogance and fortitude of her ancestors resilient as diamonds in her spine. “I do not want anything else.”

His eyes fixed on hers, deep and stormy gray. “You would, if you knew what was good for you. But then, as I’ve so recently observed, you seem to run toward trouble rather than away, as any sensible person would do.”

“I do not run toward trouble. It just seems to find me,” she concluded with an impish smile.

She watched as a light danced in his eyes, his mouth twitching begrudgingly up at the corners. “Indeed it does, and with that in mind, I suggest you err on the side of prudence and think of another prize to claim. A bottle of perfume perhaps? Or a pair of fine leather riding gloves? Either one is more than daring enough for most young ladies.”

“But I am not most young ladies. I thought you realized that by now. Unless you think me overly bold. Have I shocked you, my lord?”

His eyes warmed. “No,” he said smoothly, “but I must confess to being somewhat curious. Why a kiss?”

She looked down, only then noticing how tightly her fingers were clasped atop her skirts, squeezed white against the pale ecru of her gown. “Mayhap I am curious too.” Slowly
she lifted her gaze. “Will you not kiss me, Dominic? You did say I might choose
anything
.”

He didn’t speak, a long silence stretching between them. Abruptly, he tossed back the last of the brandy in his glass and set it aside with a
clink
. “Very well. Far be it from me to deny a lady her express wish.”

Wings started beating hard inside Emma’s chest again, her throat going dry as she waited for him to traverse the short distance between them.

Instead he stood and moved across the room.

“Where are you going?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise and dismay from rising in her voice.

He looked back, his familiar amused smile on his face. “I thought a little privacy might be in order. But if you would rather I not close the door—”

“No, no,” she amended hastily. “Close it, by all means.”

Gracious,
she sighed inwardly. How could she have forgotten that the door was standing wide open for anyone to look inside? Good thing Nick still had possession of his faculties, or who knew what difficulty might arise?

A shiver chased over her spine when she heard the lock click into place, vividly aware of just how alone they truly were. Her eyes slid closed as she waited for him to return, nervous anticipation trembling through her. Then she felt the sofa cushions depress as he sat down beside her.

She waited and waited.

He trailed the back of one knuckle in a gentle sweep across her cheek and she jumped slightly, her eyes flying open again. Fire burned across her skin where he’d touched, her lungs in acute need of air.

“Are you quite sure this is what you want?” he asked soberly, his eyes very dark.

Despite her inexplicable shyness, she couldn’t look away from his intent gaze, nor let herself turn back from her chosen path. “Yes.”

Smiling again, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers.

Her heart pounded in thick strokes that drummed between her ears, the faint scents of linen starch and sandalwood soap teasing her senses. His mouth was warm and firm on hers—light, easy, undemanding. He held the embrace for a few seconds longer with nothing but their closed lips touching. Then, as simply as the kiss had begun, it was over.

She blinked and let the sensations sweep through her.

Nice,
she thought.
Definitely nice.

Yet she sensed the kiss had been lacking somehow, that there ought to have been more. A pang she could only describe as dissatisfaction slid serpentlike through her middle.

“There, Miss White,” he said in a low drawl, “you’ve had your kiss. My debt is paid.” Easing another inch away, he stretched a negligent arm along the back of the sofa. “It grows late and you should be abed. I shall wish you good night.”

But in spite of the late hour she didn’t wish to say good night to him. Nor was she the least bit sleepy. She studied him, taking in his relaxed posture and the urbane calm in his eyes. If she hadn’t been the one he’d kissed moments ago, she would have thought they’d been doing nothing more involved than discussing the weather.

Yet maybe that’s all their kiss had meant to him.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had been left wanting more. Perhaps she had failed to live up to his expectations, too inexperienced to excite his interest or approbation.

Deflated, she shifted uneasily on the couch, gathering herself to do as he suggested, and bid him a dignified good night. She was about to stand when she saw a muscle clench in his cheek, a tightening of his jaw that denoted tension and strain.

She’d thought he was relaxed, even bored, but now she wondered. Was he concealing something? Had he felt more than he let on? She knew she was right when he flexed the fingers of one hand into a fist for a brief but significant time.

Was it possible? Had he been holding out on her during their kiss? Was he restraining himself even now?

The idea circled in her mind, growing stronger with each revolution.

“I don’t think your debt
is
paid,” she stated with renewed boldness. “That kiss had about as much passion in it as one you might give a sister—or even your aunt.”

He stared. “Believe me, that
was
passionate compared to the cheek pecks I give my aunt.” A wry light flared in his gaze. “Besides, you asked for a kiss and I gave you one. You didn’t stipulate what kind.”

“Well, I am stipulating now. I think we should try again, and this time I want you to put some real effort into the exercise.”

“Real effort?”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Be careful what you wish for, Emma. You’re playing with fire when you don’t even know how to light a match. I am trying to behave like a gentleman. You ought to be thanking me instead of pushing the issue.”

Despite his narrow-eyed glare, she refused to look away. “Maybe I don’t want you to behave like a gentleman tonight,” she murmured. “Maybe I’d rather you kiss me again and satisfy my curiosity.”

The gleam in his eyes deepened, simmering with an odd half-light. “Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.” Reaching out, he pulled her into his arms. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

In the next second, his mouth came down on hers.

She’d wanted passion, but she hadn’t been prepared for the force of his embrace or the raw hunger her prodding had unleashed.

He claimed her. There was no other word for it. His lips moved against hers with a heady power that left her reeling, turning her weak and instantly dizzy. Heat burst in wild ripples over her skin, alternating with a shivering chill that made her whole body quake. He tasted of brandy and spice, his clean male scent far more intoxicating than any of the liquor she’d drunk that night.

Angling his head, he drew her deeper inside his embrace,
ravishing her mouth with a thoroughness that left her stunned. He was right to have warned of the dangers, his every move bringing a fresh new temptation and unexpected new joy.

No wonder he’d held back before. One small taste and she never wanted him to stop. His kiss was like some magical elixir of which she knew she would never get enough.

Helpless to resist, she settled more completely into his arms, her fingers curling into the fine, soft wool of his coat. She clung to the broad strength of his shoulders before tentatively beginning to kiss him back. She didn’t know what she was doing precisely, since he was the first man she had ever kissed. Closing her eyes, she let instinct be her guide.