Surely, the old dear didn’t mean to have Lucy attach herself to a creature such as Count Tresdon. He was positively hideous.
And she couldn’t be sure as to whether the whiff of alcohol was from last night or this morning. Nor could she be sure which of those was the lesser of two evils.
“Come now, Lady Lucia. There is no need to be shy with me.”
She was tempted to slap the dolt’s face for him. Shy indeed!
But somehow, she didn’t think Alice would take too kindly to such actions.
Her sister was besotted with Lord Travers, and it seemed as though the feeling was mutual.
“I’m not shy, Lord Tresdon,” she bit. “I simply do not wish to be – to be –”
Lucia wasn’t quite sure what to say.
Be pawed at by an overgrown pig seemed a bit too insulting, yet that’s exactly how she felt.
“Your discretion does you credit, my dear.” The odious oaf leered at her. “Perhaps we can slip off to somewhere more inconspicuous.”
Before she quite knew what he was about, he’d taken her arm and dragged her toward the low hanging branches of a tree that she didn’t recognise.
And though it was at the edge of the garden, only yards from where her supposed chaperone was, they were quite hidden from view.
Lucia shuddered. She could think of nothing worse than to be alone somewhere with the count.
Once again, she cast her gaze around, but nobody was close enough to intervene.
There was nothing for it. She’d either have to scream or hitch up her skirts and make a run for it.
“I’m afraid that I’ve developed a rather severe headache, Count Tresdon. You’ll have to excuse me.”
The man’s smile made her skin crawl.
“Nothing that a nice lie down won’t fix I’m sure, my dear. Why don’t I –”
“Why don’t you take the hint and leave the lady alone, Tresdon?”
Lucia spun around at the sound of a masculine voice, and her jaw dropped open of its own accord.
Prince Christopher stood looming over her, all dark and quietly seething.
But his obvious anger wasn’t aimed at her. No, his eyes were shooting daggers firmly at her overfamiliar companion.
“Y-your Highness.” The bumbling count issued a hasty bow, which reminded Lucy to curtsy.
The prince’s almost black gaze flickered over her briefly before it refocused on Tresdon.
She almost felt sorry for the man.
“I-I – that is, the lady and I – we –”
“You were just taking your leave,” Prince Christopher interrupted.
It wasn’t a question. It was a command.
“O-of course, Your Highness.”
The count turned to bow to Lucy, and she could see the sweat pouring from his forehead.
He didn’t deserve a curtsy, but manners dictated that she give him one nonetheless.
Within seconds, the count had turned and disappeared through the gardens, weaving around the maze-like paths, and Lucia found herself quite alone with the prince.
The silence was excruciating, and once more she found herself looking around for someone to make an appearance.
Only this time it wasn’t because she was repulsed, or scared, or irritated. In fact, she felt the opposite of all those things, which was precisely why she needed to get as far away from the handsome prince as possible.
She was once again aware of how concealed this tree was, but now it felt deliciously wicked. The prince didn’t scare her. But the feelings he awoke in her did.
“Did Tresdon upset you, Lady Lucia?”
“Um – no,” Lucy managed before she even thought about the question. But she’d always been honest. To a fault, some would say. “Well, as a matter of fact, yes, he did. Odious creature,” she bit out.
His grin was swift and sudden, and it took Lucy’s breath clean away.
It was a thing of beauty, though somewhere inside she knew, without knowing how she knew, that it was a rare thing for this powerful, prominent prince to smile freely.
“That he is,” the prince said with a nod of his head. “I hope that my company is a little less odious.”
Lord, but he was charming.
To her horror, Lucy felt her cheeks heat.
“I’m sure it will be.” She smiled weakly. And then, because she couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts to herself, especially when he was turning her brain to the consistency of jam, she spoke again. “Now that you’ve stopped lying about who you are.”
She clasped a hand over her mouth, but of course, the damage was done.
Prince Christopher’s expression went from vaguely amused to glowering in the blink of an eye.
Lucy knew she should apologise, and she opened her mouth to do just that.
But before she got the chance to do so, he spoke.
“I didn’t lie about who I am,” he snapped, and her temper rose to match his obvious ire.
“You weren’t honest about it either,” she snapped right back.
In some small part of her mind, she realised that she was standing here arguing with royalty. Something that was never, ever done.
And for all she knew, it was an action punishable by death, or being thrown in a dungeon.
She couldn’t understand why she allowed him to irk her so. Why she forgot that he was the ruler of one of the most prominent countries in Europe.
“You never asked me who I was.”
“I did, too!” she bit. “You just wouldn’t answer me. And anyway, you still should have told me.”
“When?” he demanded. “When you were calling me arrogant, or accusing me of treating women like horseflesh?”
His words made her stomach flip with remembered embarrassment and horror. And yes, disappointment.
Because foolish as it was, she had allowed herself to think all sorts of wildly inappropriate, scandalous, but terribly romantic things about her mystery man.
But he wasn’t hers. And he wasn’t just a man.
“I only said those things because I didn’t know you were the prince,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I thought you were a man.”
He raised a brow, looking so arrogant that she wanted to stomp her foot however childish that may be.
Rolling her eyes, Lucy huffed out a sigh, feeling embarrassed and excited and unsettled all at once.
“I just mean – well, you’re not a man in the ordinary sense of the word, are you? You’re a prince.”
“I am all man, Lucia,” he answered simply, softly. The words were practically a growl, and her skin broke out in gooseflesh in response. “Shall I prove it?”
Before she could guess at his intentions, the prince reached out a hand, clasping the back of her neck, and pulled her mouth to his in a searing kiss.
Chapter Thirteen
“I had never seen such wonderful architecture outside of Aldonia, Your Highness, until I summered in Budapest. Did you not find that it was similar in style?”
Christopher barely heard the words Princess Sylvie spoke. Thankfully, the cool blonde seemed as disinterested in their conversation as he was.
In truth, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything in days.
Every part of him, body and soul, was consumed by Lucia Allenwood.
He’d kissed her. Lost control of himself and kissed her.
Like a damned green lad with no self-control and no thought to consequences.
And now, he was haunted by her.
He remembered vividly her gasp of shock that had ruined the last of his ability to think, he remembered plunging his tongue into her mouth, and the exquisite torture of her hesitant then bold response.
She was an innocent but a natural seductress, and she’d ensnared him with the scent of her skin, the feel of her arms clinging to his neck, and the press of her body against his own.
With one kiss, she’d ruined him.
And then she’d run away, and he hadn’t seen her since.
>
It had been three days. More importantly, three nights of thinking about her. And it needed to stop.
He needed to concentrate on his list. On his potential bride. On his country.
Not a slip of a girl with no idea how to conduct herself in public.
That’s unfair, he chastised himself. You’ve spent your whole life learning to conduct yourself in public and threw it all away for one kiss.
“Your Highness, please forgive the intrusion.”
Christopher turned at the sound of a voice just behind him.
He’d asked Princess Sylvie to join him on a walk at the lake on the other side of the garden from where he’d kissed Lucia Allenwood senseless. Some of the party had gone to the coast, and he’d decided to take the opportunity to concentrate on getting to the know the princess, who had expressed a disinterest in the excursion.
But if he’d hoped that the beautiful blonde would distract him from his memories, he’d been sorely mistaken.
Sylvie was cool, collected, dispassionate, and regal. She spoke only when questioned, and whatever she said was unoffensive and unopinionated.
Her hair didn’t blaze with a sinful collection of reds designed to make a man think all manner of wicked things.
And her eyes were a clear, simple blue. Not giant pools of aqua that were far too easy to drown in, or make a man feel like slaying dragons for her.
She was everything Lucia Allenwood was not.
That meant she was the perfect candidate to be a queen.
Unfortunately, it also meant she was dull as ditch water.
But he wanted dull, Christopher reminded himself fiercely. Dull meant appropriate. Dull meant not distracting.
His loyal assistant Hincham waited patiently for Christopher to acknowledge his presence.
“What is it, Hincham?”
“The Duke of Luxembourg has sent the missive you were awaiting, Your Highness. And you asked to be informed of its arrival immediately.”
“Thank you, Hincham.”
Christopher inwardly sighed with relief that he had a valid reason to escape this interminable afternoon.
“Please, accept my apologies, Princess.” He lifted a hand and bade the girl’s chaperone come forward. In fact, there was a veritable entourage of chaperones and aides in attendance. “Perhaps we’ll get the opportunity to finish our discussion tonight at dinner.”
He bowed over the lady’s hand, feeling nothing but a fleeting irritation that he didn’t like her more.
And as he marched purposefully toward the palace and his private offices, he had to wonder just what had happened to him and, more importantly, what on earth he was going to do about it.
“You’re being silly. Childish and silly. And skulking around corners isn’t going to make you any less silly. Or childish.”
Lucy vaguely wondered if her mind had actually snapped.
How else could she explain why she was standing before a looking glass talking aloud to herself?
This was a last resort.
Three days of faking headaches in order to skip functions, three nights of dreaming of an impossibly handsome man just out of reach.
Constant memories of her first, explosive kiss. It was exhausting.
Worse still, she had nobody with whom to discuss it.
She wished that she could confide in Alice or Penelope. But what exactly was she to say?
I allowed a gentleman to take scandalous liberties. Oh, and did I mention that it’s the prince? You know, the same prince Penelope wants to marry?
Somehow she didn’t think either her sister or her cousin would be thrilled to hear what she’d been up to.
But after three days spent in her rooms, she needed an escape.
Alice and Penelope had gone on a picnic this morning and would be gone for the day. Ordinarily, Lucy would have enjoyed such an outing. Especially given that it would give her the chance to explore more of Aldonia.
But she’d been worried that the prince would be in attendance, and so she’d feigned another headache and cried off.
And that just left her alone. Again.
The only saving grace had been that her rooms were positively gigantic, so it wasn’t a hardship spending her days in there.
The wall hangings and bedding were the palest blue, and two huge, mullioned windows looked out over beautifully manicured lawns that stretched as far as her eye could see.
The entire palace must be surrounded by various gardens. And if she wasn’t to show her face, she would have spent days exploring every one of them.
As it was, she’d only attended teas and luncheons that were strictly ladies only and had skipped every evening meal.
But if she kept it up, she knew Aunt Ivy would send for a doctor.
A complete waste of time because she was quite sure there was no cure for her foolish wantonness.
It didn’t help that Penelope came to visit every night before retiring, filled with talk of Prince Christopher. How he’d gone out of his way to speak to her, how he’d even talked to Alice. How he’d been so conscientious as to ask after Lucy’s health.
Lucy couldn’t figure out if he was asking about her to endear himself to Penelope or to make sure she was still out of his way.
Frustration and boredom bubbled up inside her.
She couldn’t stay in here for the next two and a half weeks. That was madness.
Besides, he was the prince. Far too busy and important to be attending palace social events with ladies of little consequence.
It wasn’t as though she were going to bump into him over tea. There was every chance he was off courting Penelope at the seaside.
Taking her in his impossibly strong arms, awakening in her a wicked, foreign longing with his lips, and his tongue, and –
“Stop it,” she barked at herself like a madwoman.
Steeling her spine and her nerves, Lucy decided that she’d had enough hiding out.
Tonight there was to be a dinner with dancing. Not quite a ball, though it would probably be as extravagant as any ball Lucy had ever attended. And she wasn’t going to miss it. Not for Prince Christopher. Not for anybody.
Lucy made her way down the vast staircase and wandered in the direction of one of the drawing rooms that the guests seemed to favour. Aunt Ivy and her cohorts hadn’t gone on the picnic, so Lucy guessed that was where she’d find them.
In truth, she’d rather take a walk, but she wasn’t sure she should be wandering through the grounds alone again. That had led to nothing but trouble.
She’d just have to prepare to sit still and listen pleasantly to the older ladies’ chatter. Even pretend to be interested.
“Lady Lucia!”
Lucy spun around to see Princess Harriet, beautiful in mauve silk, rushing toward her.
“My dear, it’s been days! How are you feeling?”
Lucy felt immediately guilty at the concern in the princess’s tone.
“Oh, um, very well, Your Highness. I just – I thought I should show my face before I disgrace Aunt Ivy or my sister.”
Princess Harriet studied Lucy’s face for a moment before she smiled.
“Lady Bonne is happily taking tea with the other matriarchs. And your sister and cousin have joined a picnic party to the seaside and won’t return until it’s time to get ready for tonight’s event. They didn’t tell you?”
“Oh, they did. I just – I didn’t feel well enough to join them this morning. But, well, three days alone seemed quite enough.”
The princess was still staring at her, her dark gaze so like her brother’s, boring into Lucy.
“Um – you didn’t want to go on the excursion, Your Highness?” she asked, more to break the oddly tense silence than anything else.
To her surprise, the princess blushed slightly.
“I’ve decided not to take any overly long journeys at the moment,” Princess Harriet said conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming. “Not in my – ah – delicate state.”
Luc
y felt her eyes widen.
“Oh, how wonderful,” she gushed. “Felicitations, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Lady Lucia. I know it isn’t done to discuss such things with single young women, but I’m just so excited.”
“Oh, I don’t mind all that.” Lucy waved a hand. “And I shan’t tell a soul.”
Princess Harriet reached out and tucked her arm through Lucy’s.
“Lady Lucia, why don’t you come to my private apartments, and you and I shall have a coze. Far better than sitting with the matriarchs.” She rolled her eyes, and Lucy couldn’t help but giggle at the princess’s wickedness. “And I can tell you all about the baby, and how happy Jacob is. Did I ever tell you how I fell in love with him? It’s quite the story.”
Lucy grinned at her new-found friend.
“That sounds wonderful, Your Highness,” she said, her spirits rising enormously.
If she was hidden away in Princess Harriet’s wing of the palace, she ran no risk of seeing the prince, even if he had stayed behind.
“And please, call me Lucy.”
Princess Harriet led the way to a part of the palace Lucy hadn’t yet been.
They talked about the princess’s excitement for the arrival of her babe, they talked about Alice and how close she seemed to be becoming to Lord Travers. They talked about Prince Alexander and the preparations for his arrival.
To Lucy’s unending relief, they didn’t speak of Prince Christopher.
She began to relax completely as they reached the family’s private quarters.
She even began to wonder why she’d hidden herself away in such a fashion.
The ladies turned a corner, and a movement ahead caught Lucy’s eye.
She looked up, and her heart sank.
Walking with Princess Harriet’s husband by his side was the exact reason she’d hidden.
And he was coming right for her.
Chapter Fourteen
“Damn it.”
Christopher didn’t realise he’d spoken aloud until Jacob raised an eyebrow.
“Problem?” he asked smoothly.
“Ah – well –”
Yes.
“No,” he answered.
Was it a problem that he was about to run into the woman he couldn’t keep his hands off?
Redeeming A Royal (The Royals of Aldonia Book 3) Page 9