A Royal Proposition: The Royal House of Atharia, Book 2

by Gill, Tamara

Rowan glanced over his shoulder and spied the foliage she spoke of. He held out his arm, and she wound hers through his as he escorted her farther into the gardens.

  The shadows of the grounds enfolded them as they stepped out of sight and a shiver of expectation stole across her skin. He pulled her against him with a slow, seductive air that left her breathless.

  She could not understand why, when around this man, she was not herself. That she no longer wanted to conform to social rules or her family's expectations. She wanted him and no one else.

  A madness that would not abate, and nor did she wish it to.

  Chapter 7

  They were but yards from the revelry of Covent Gardens, and yet, here in the shadows of the garden, no one knew they were there, out of sight and away from prying eyes.

  Just as Rowan preferred his life to be.

  Alessa was all softness in his arms, her alluring silk gown made his blood pump fast, and as for her lips, they were made for kissing. She stared up at him in the moonlit night, all but begging without words for him to close the space between them and kiss her.

  He pulled her close, the scent of jasmine teasing his senses. Rowan lowered his head, giving her time to change her mind, to leave, but she did not. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and met him halfway.

  Her mouth opened on a sigh, and he took the opportunity to deepen the embrace. She was delicious, wanton, and made the sweetest little mewling sounds as their tongues teased, tasted, and relished their dance. He had never responded to a woman as he responded to Alessa.

  A princess. So far above him and out of his league. That she was even kissing him, a street urchin, hardened by time and the mistreatment of people who ought to know better, he could not understand.

  He had been hired to get close to her, infiltrate her security and kill her. He could not kill her now. Not because she was everything lovely and right in his arms, but because she was a good person. Wealthy, yes, spoiled perhaps and indulged for certain, but she was also kind, honest, and did not judge.

  A rare gem, to be sure.

  Her uncle's henchmen were fools to think that killing Princess Alessa would solve all their troubles. It would only make them double. He would not allow them to injure one hair on her pretty head.

  She pulled back, running her palm along his jaw. "Your kisses have ruined me for others, I fear."

  Ruined her? He would never look at another woman the way he looked at Alessa. If he ruined her for all time, he was right there alongside her. "I'm not for you, Princess," he said, needing to remind them both that what they were doing, the kissing and petting, was not sustainable. At some point, she would return to Atharia, marry a prince. He would be in America, thousands of miles from her, never to see her again.

  The thought made his stomach lurch.

  "Why are you not?" she asked him—no mocking in her tone. "You are a man and one whom I like quite a lot if you had not already noticed. Why can we not be together?"

  He sighed, pulling her against him and holding her close. "Because I'm your guard, a nobody, and you are a princess. A woman of royal blood who has expectations and priorities that are greater than this. Or what we make each other feel."

  She studied him a moment, and he wondered what she saw. Did she see a man who wished what he had said was not true? That a princess could marry a once-homeless street boy without a penny to his name. That she could love a man who was once hired to kill her. How could she like anything about such a man? He loathed himself for being the traitor he was.

  "I do not want to be with anyone else, and so I would ask that until the pressures of my life, or my time here in England comes to an end, that we steal these precious times together and enjoy them as much as we can. Could you do that small favor for me at least?"

  He kissed the top of her head, the scent of wild berries teasing his senses. He'd never known a woman to smell so nice. "If we're caught, you'll have a scandal unlike any you've ever known. I'm not worth such a risk, Alessa. I truly am not."

  She leaned up, touching her lips to his. "You are worth the risk to me."

  Her words unlocked a part of him that he had kept hidden away, would not allow seeing the light of day until now. He seized her mouth, kissing her until his mind whirled uncontrollably.

  She met his kiss with equal fervor, and he never wanted to stop. Never wanted to watch as she sailed away out of his life. She clung to him, and he fought for control, to rein in his needs and take what he wanted. She was a princess, a lady, a maid. He had to remember those facts.

  But when she pushed herself against him, all but purring against his hardened cock, all restraint fled.

  * * *

  Alessa ached between her thighs. Her body did not feel like itself. It wanted to climb up on Rowan and do wickedly delicious things with him. Things she did not know but most definitely could feel.

  Her body was alight with need, and she knew he knew how to please her. But would he? Would he give her what she wanted, knowing who and what she was?

  "Touch me," she begged him, rising on her toes to push her body against his hardened manhood.

  He groaned, his hand slipping down her back to cup one cheek of her bottom, wrenching her against him. The action placed her directly over his manhood, long and thick. It teased her through her silk gown.

  "I'm going to make you come," he panted against her mouth, working her against him.

  She moaned, biting her lip as exquisite pleasure rocked through her core and throughout her body. She helped and moved with him, falling into a rhythm. He sucked in a breath, kissing her, dragging her against him, and playing her like an expert musician.

  "What are you doing to me?" she begged, wanting more. They were in a secluded area, hidden by plants, but still, anyone could wander and come across them. That no longer concerned her. All she cared about was what Rowan was doing to her. What he was making her feel.

  "The next time I make you come this way, Princess, it'll be with my mouth."

  The idea of Rowan kissing her there with his lips and tongue was all it took to send her tumbling over the edge. A conflagration of ecstasy thrummed through her core and out into her body, shattering her to pieces. She worked herself against him, taking from him all that he would give her. Her legs gave way, and he hoisted her harder against him, giving her all that she craved.

  "Rowan," she gasped, his kiss silencing her moan. In time the spasms ebbed and slowed and then disappeared altogether, but still, awakening lingered. The realization that there was more between a man and woman than she had ever known.

  She could now understand the secret looks and touches shared by her sister and her husband.

  How wonderful that a union could be so enjoyable. She wanted the same for herself. And she wanted it with the man in her arms. "I had no idea that such a thing was possible between a couple."

  He chuckled, helping her to stand on her own two feet and checking her gown quickly. "There is a lot between a man and woman. That is merely only one."

  Excitement thrummed through her veins. She knew she could not experience everything with Rowan. Some lines she could not cross until she was married, but what they had done was nothing so very bad. And no one had to know.

  She reached up, running her finger along his lips, reddened by her kisses. "You say the next time you make me come it shall be with your mouth. I look forward to the event," she teased, wishing they could have a repeat of the night already this moment.

  He took her finger into his mouth, suckling it. The breath in her lungs seized, and she fought not to faint with want of him.

  He pulled her finger free of his mouth, kissing the tip of her finger. "As do I, Your Highness." His deep, gravely voice made her body burn. "The wait will be worth it. I promise you that," he declared before returning her to her party as if he had not changed her life forever after their walk.

  Chapter 8

  Alessa was kept busy over the following days with several callers, men who seemed
confident enough to request an audience with her. Marco and Rowan always stood close by, and during the several days of gentlemen callers, she had noticed that Rowan's mood had darkened and grown more annoyed with each one.

  Was the man jealous? Did he not like seeing the woman he had made shatter so pleasantly into a million pieces be complimented and flirted with by other men?

  She could not help but smile at the idea that he did not want her talking to the other men, considering their advances. For all their lovely titles and wealth, they were a fun diversion for a time, but she would never consider any of them.

  None of them made her heart beat fast or her skin prickle in awareness. Not like her body did when she was around Rowan. He had not touched her or sought her out during the past several days, but her time had not been her own, and she knew he wanted her all to himself.

  She could sense it, feel it each time their paths crossed. His hands flexed at his sides whenever she walked past. As if he wanted to reach for her, take her in his arms, and kiss her senselessly.

  His annoyance toward her gentlemen callers was obvious. Rowan seemed to take pleasure in placing himself about the room in locations that enabled him to intimidate the poor fellows.

  She supposed she ought to speak to him and tell him that his actions were unnecessary and not appreciated, but she could not. She liked that he was protective, resentful of those wanting to acquaint themselves with her further.

  Perhaps by seeing what he could lose, he would want it for himself.

  Today she had risen early and ordered a bath, wanting to have the morning to herself. Aunt Rosemary was out shopping, and the duke was at his club, and so for a few hours at least she had time to herself.

  She stepped out of the bath, wrapping a drying cloth about her, and walked into her room. Her maid had stoked the fire high before heading downstairs to press several gowns she wanted to wear this week.

  Alessa made a little yelp at the sight of Rowan leaning upon the backboard of her bed, his arms positioned lazily behind his head.

  His gaze devoured her, and she quickly strode to the door, snipping the lock before rounding on him. "What are you doing in here?" she whispered. "It is one thing to steal a kiss or two, but you cannot be in my room."

  He shrugged, not moving an inch. "I think it's time that I tasted you, Princess. Just as I promised I would."

  Her mouth dried at his words. He could not mean what she thought he did. And now? It was the morning. Servants were about, and her guard Marco was no doubt just out in the passage.

  She padded over to him, standing just out of reach. "You must leave before you are caught and sent away. We will not be able to do anything if you're punished for being here."

  Without warning, he moved and hauled her onto the bed, settling her atop him. Her traitorous body forgot all the reasons why he needed to leave and purred instead at the feel of him.

  She was naked, except for her towel. The fact she recognized on Rowan's face when it hardened, became more determined than ever.

  He reached out, removing her hands from where she clasped the towel at her chest, letting it fall away. She sat atop him, as naked as the day she was born. Never in her life had anyone seen her in such a way, but she could feel no fear, no embarrassment. The way Rowan took in her every curve, every part of her, left her warm and achy and utterly wanton.

  He shuffled down on the bed, lying flat, and clasped the backs of her thighs. "Climb up on me, Princess. I need to taste you."

  She could not do such a thing. It was too much. Not at all ladylike. She bit her lip, debating his words. Her body was aflame, weeping for his touch just as he taunted, and she placed herself above him as he wanted.

  Her face burned at the thought of what they were about to do, but her need overrode her embarrassment. He clasped her legs, pulling her onto him and her world tipped. She clasped the headboard, steadying herself as his mouth latched on to her, suckling and teasing.

  It was too much. Never had she ever experienced something so decadent and wicked. She moved atop him, working herself against his eager tongue and lips. As much as she tried, she could not stop his name that fell from her lips. Her body hot and damp, her sex coiled tight. How had she lived without experiencing such exquisite pleasure?

  His tongue worked her needy flesh with renewed vigor, and without warning, she was floating, spiraling into an abyss of incandescent delight. Rowan moaned, suckled her harder in one unique place that made her gasp. She threw back her head, riding him, taking all that he offered without fear or embarrassment.

  "Rowan," she breathed, slipping from atop him to lay at his side. She met his gaze, his dark with need and satisfaction. "You tempt me more than I should allow." She leaned over, kissing the skin on his chest. He smelled of man, of sex and lavender. Her gaze dipped to the apex of his thighs, not missing the large, solid mass of masculine form that jutted against his breeches. "Would you like me to help you find pleasure too?" she asked him, sliding her hand down over the corded muscles of his stomach to his groin. She took him in hand, rubbing him through the material of his pants.

  So large and long, thick too. Would they even fit should she do the unthinkable and lay with him in earnest?

  "Not today, Princess. I should leave before I'm caught in your room."

  She did not want him to leave. She wanted him to stay, to touch her again and make her feel all that he had before. Their interlude was too quick. Was over too soon. She wanted more.

  He moved off the bed, and she leaned up against the headboard, watching him as he righted his rumpled clothing. His dark hair fell a little over his face as he tucked his shirt back into his breeches. The dark shadowing of stubble on his cheeks made him look like a pirate who had stolen into her room

  Her lips twitched at the imagining.

  "I should not be here," he said, his harsh tone surprising her. "Nothing good can come from our attraction."

  A little of the euphoria that surrounded her after their interlude dimmed at his words. "I know," she agreed, hating that for their circumstances, that may very well be true. Her sisters would not like her choice. They would fight her will, should they hear she wanted to marry her guard. But was she reading into what they were doing more than she ought?

  There was little doubt in her mind the man before her, his rugged, handsome face, the hardness that all but oozed from him, made him unattainable, not someone, anyone, would look for to marry. But there was also something soft, vulnerable about him when he touched her that she wanted to see more of. Of course, he demanded a response from her, pushed her to be a little wild, but he never forced, was never rough with his demand.

  "But I do not want whatever this is between us to end. I'll be here until the end of the Season, and your protection is required until then. Can we not enjoy what time we have left and not worry about what is to come? I'm well aware already of what my life will entail moving forward. What we have is a sweet diversion that I'm selfish enough to want to continue."

  He came and stood at the end of the bed, staring at her. His face showed no emotion. He was so very hard to read, and it maddened her that she may never know all of what made him who he was.

  He reached out, clasping her ankle, his touch sending goosebumps over her skin before he wrenched her to the end of the bed. She squealed, laughing as he came over her, settling between her legs.

  "We can continue on with our little liaisons, Your Highness. I'm here to serve you, after all. But I shall only do so as long as you understand that once you leave England, our association too will come to an end."

  Alessa purred at his words, wrapping herself around him and holding him against her. He was hard again, and she ground herself against his sex, wanting all that he offered. And if he agreed to stay now, to continue their little rendezvous, then there was a chance for them—a chance for her to win his heart and trust and make him hers forever.

  "That's all I ask," she said, pulling him down for another kiss.

  F
or now.

  Chapter 9

  Rowan had only just left the princess’s bedchamber when Marco came upon him, relieving him of his duties to break his fast. As much as he wanted Alessa in his bed, wanted to lay claim to her, make her his, he could not allow himself to dream of a future with the woman.

  She was no ordinary woman. She was a royal princess—a king's daughter and sister to a queen.

  Not for him, a street urchin from nobody knows whom.

  He stood at the side of the ballroom later that evening. The ton at play, the dancing, laughter, and abundance of privilege they all lived with made his skin crawl. How he loathed how much the wealthy had when the poor had so little. The gap between the two classes growing ever larger, growing ever harder for those who had nothing to their name.

  Rowan received word today from those who wished to do Alessa harm, demanding that action be taken sooner rather than later. The princess was settled in London, trusted those about her, and it was time to strike.

  Tomorrow evening he was rostered off from duties, and he would take care of two more of the henchmen who sought to do her harm.

  Piedro and Dino often hung together, slinked around London, taking from those unaware they were about to be mugged, men and woman alike, it did not matter. The fiends had no remorse or empathy for anyone, even people as hard done by as themselves.

  That Princess Alessa's uncle had put in place these blackguards before his death told him a lot about the man's character.

  You are no better, Rowan. You were one of those men he hired.

  He forced the thought from his mind, refusing to allow it to take root, to grow and fester. He was no longer working for them, no matter what they may think on the matter. He now worked in truth for the princess, and he would keep her safe from harm. Keep her alive for as long as she was under his care.

  "You are playing a dangerous game, Rowan. I hope you know what you are doing," Marco said, his voice low to ensure privacy from those at the ball.