by Dara Joy
“And you, Lorgin.” His gaze rested on Deana’s stomach, causing him to give a half-smile. “To all of you.”
With his ability to do so, Lorgin called forth the Tunnel. A small, circular light appeared in the room, growing larger and larger, until a great maw of pulsing, flashing light stood before them.
Deana ran to give Rejar one last hug before she stepped into the portal with her husband. Just before the Tunnel sealed behind them, Rejar heard Lorgin say to his wife, “Now, zira, you will tell me exactly what you meant by this Disney World…”
He missed them already.
But he had a certain task to complete. A task of the utmost urgency.
He needed to be inside Lilac Devere.
With a vengeance.
Lilac stared at her reflection in the mirror.
She didn’t look any different. Same mousy-tan colored hair. Same overly large greenish sloe eyes. Same full lips. Her sights dropped to her chest, lavishly revealed by the square-cut collar of her garden dress. Same embarrassingly rounded curves.
She was not exactly what the ton would deem a “diamond of the first water.”
So why was she suddenly being pursued by every court card of the Beau Monde? Invitations were arriving by the hour. Would Miss Devere like to attend a little fete I am sponsoring on Thursday the next? Would Miss Devere be available for tea with Sir Geoffry on Tuesday? Would Miss Devere be accepting callers in the afternoons?
No, Miss Devere would NOT!
It was all his fault.
That irritating, insufferable, arrogant, spoiled Prince!
And to make matters worse, now she was dreaming of him. There wasn’t even an escape for her in the arms of Morpheus! For some strange, inexplicable reason, Lilac had dreamt she was in his arms last evening. And the things she imagined he had done to her!
She pressed her palms to her flaming cheeks as vivid, indecent images paraded across her mind’s eye. What on God’s Earth would make her imagine such shameful things? The Prince without his clothes on! Doing the most wicked things with his tongue. And when his mouth actually suckled on—
Did men really do such things?
No, it was too bizarre. What made her dream up such odd behavior? She must have eaten something that disagreed with her last night which had caused her to have the nightmare.
Only it wasn’t really a nightmare…
Some of it had seemed rather enjoyable.
Foolish thought! Of course it was a nightmare; it involved that—that Prince!
Lilac took a deep breath to calm her rising agitation. No need to worry; she would never speak to him again. She had made sure of that at the soiree last evening. As for future encounters, Auntie would undoubtedly insist she attend at least some of the invitations she had received; in those cases, if the Prince should happen to be there, she would make sure she avoided him.
In all likelihood he had forgotten her by now anyway and had moved on to his next conquest. She would never have to look into that heart-stopping, beautiful face again.
Fate be willing.
Downstairs, the Face was already waiting for her in the foyer.
Determination was stamped all over its sultry features.
Chapter Six
Lilac’s steps faltered on the stairs when she caught sight of the gleaming black hair in the foyer below. It couldn’t be!
Sensual dual-colored eyes, lambent like a rare smoldering flame, came to focus on her.
It was.
Fustian! Did the man never give up? What did he think he was about? She had slapped him, for heaven’s sake! How much more subtle could she be?
“What do you think you’re doing here?” she hissed from the middle of the stairs.
“There you are, Lilac! I was about to send Emmy up to fetch you. Our nice Prince Azov has come to take you for a carriage ride in the park.”
Auntie hadn’t heard her, but it was obvious he had. He gave her that special little smile of his. The one that curled the hair on the back of her neck.
The one that said “we shall see.”
No, we won’t see. Behind Auntie’s back, she stuck her tongue out at him. It was a childish thing to do, but very satisfying.
The dynamic, commanding look he returned to her almost caused her to trip on the last step. Zounds, but he was a force when he did that! She needed to think up an excuse immediately. The one she came up with was a bit lame, but it would have to do.
“I am sorry, your Highness; I am not up to it.” She lifted a limp hand to her forehead. “I have a slight headache this afternoon.”
Amused at the thinly veiled ruse, Rejar raised one mocking eyebrow. “Bad dreams?” His deep voice murmured mischievously.
Lilac felt the color drain from her face.
The man was too close to the mark and she did not like his arrogant, knowing look one bit. “Bad memories would be more accurate. I thought I made myself quite clear on the dance floor last evening. If you have come to apologize to me, get on with it and then leave.”
“Lilac, your manners!” Auntie was clearly appalled; she immediately sought to placate the Prince for Lilac’s breach of etiquette. “Your Highness, please forgive her, I don’t know what has come over the chit. Normally she is the most even-tempered, docile, sweet—” Her aunt was definitely overcompensating to this irritating boor.
“Auntie Whumples, stop making me sound like some milk cow put out to pasture!”
The Prince’s lips twitched in barely suppressed amusement.
She squinted at the irritant through narrowed eyes. “You may leave.” In the event the nick ninny had forgotten his way out, she rudely pointed her finger in the direction of the door.
Lady Agatha, horrified that this prime candidate was about to escape her clutches, lost all decorum. As far as she was concerned, he was Lilac’s best hope. A prince, for Heaven’s sake!
“No, he will not!” Aggravated at her niece’s stubbornness, Agatha’s stern voice bellowed off the foyer walls, shaking the suspended chandelier in the process.
Lilac stared at her aunt, both amazed at her vehement response and infuriated at her meddling. It was obvious what she was up to—matchmaking. With the sapskull. Not in this lifetime! Auntie Whumples could just think that one over again!
In a rare display of rebelliousness, Lilac put her foot down. Or stomped it down, to be more accurate. “Yes, he will!”
Agatha clutched her heaving bosom, gasping in righteous affrontage. She was a dignified woman who did not put up with such nonsense; the Prince was instantly elevated to cause célèbre. “I’ve never! You naughty girl! He will not step one foot outside this house until I say so.”
Rejar avidly watched the scene unfold before him; it was in the tradition of great entertainment. As if he weren’t the perpetrator of the contest of wills, he calmly crossed his arms over his chest and patiently leaned back against a column in the foyer while the two women fought over him. This, in various forms, he was used to.
Lilac flashed her eyes, lowered her voice, put her hands on her hips, and stared her aunt down. “He goes.” She stood firm.
Not bad, Rejar thought, admiring her technique. Still, if he were in a gaming hell right now, he would place his wager on the aunt. She was far more determined, far more bombastic, far more…just far more. Not that he had any intention of leaving, no matter what the outcome.
“Lilac Prunella Devere!”
Lilac visibly winced at the sound of her hideous middle name—the usage of which rendered her temporarily immobile.
Ah! Rejar nodded approvingly. A very good ploy. The old woman had the skill of a brilliant tactician; first weaken your opponent with a dreaded allusion, then pounce. Prunella? He grinned outright at the awful appellation. It was so bad, it was on the border of being adorable.
“I am still your guardian, Lilac Devere! Your sudden display of disrespect—not to mention ill manners—brings great shame to this household.” Auntie paused before throwing her trump card. “What w
ould your dear father say if he could hear you now?”
Lilac’s shoulders instantly sagged, her head dropping in defeat. Every time her aunt wanted to win an argument, all she had to do was bring up the name of her dear departed father. She sneaked a peek at her aunt. As Lilac suspected, the old termagant was already gloating with victory.
Sensing that the battle was over, Rejar stepped away from the column, chuckling to himself. The Aviaran warriors might learn a thing or two from this old woman. His passing wink to Lady Whumples said “well done.”
Agatha surprised him by winking back. “Make sure she does not catch a chill, your Highness. The late afternoons can still be quite brisk.”
“You need not worry; she will be in the best of hands—ask anyone.” With those cryptic words, he held out his hand to Lilac.
Reluctantly, she took his arm.
“Do not feel too badly, Prunella,” he whispered softly into her ear as he opened the door for her, “in any case, I was not going to apologize.”
Lilac glared up at him.
How could she not gape at the driver of the open-topped landau?
Instead of being properly attired as any decent coachman would be—in white leather breeches, striped waistcoat, and dark tailored coat—the man was entirely bedecked in bright, garish green. An unlit pipe dangled from the side of his mouth. Odd wisps of hair flew out from beneath a moldy cap, also green. He looked like a walking fir tree.
“In y’go, colleen.”
While she continued to gape at him in a stupor, the man actually had the audacity to place his palm on her backside and shove her into the vehicle! When the Prince settled himself beside her, she turned an incredulous face to him.
“Is that man in your employ?” she asked.
“Yes.” She is impressed, Rejar thought.
Lilac’s eyes widened in disbelief. Shaking her head, she stared pointedly out of her side of the landau, ignoring his Highness.
“Where to, yer princeship?” The green thing from the front asked.
“I believe it is called Hyde Park; is it not, Lilac?”
“I suppose so,” she muttered.
“Hyde Park, ’tis! Gor, this oughta be a treat, seein’ them nobs strut about like they’s all fine and dandy!” He cracked the whip in the air and the horses bolted as if the hounds of hell nipped at their shins.
The sudden momentum caused by the forward movement almost toppled Lilac over the back of the carriage. Her derriere slid off the seat and her legs flew up in the air, sending her dress spiraling to her thighs. Several sections of her hair broke free of her ribbon to drape cozily over the Prince’s leather-clad thigh, sliding intimately down between his long, powerful legs.
Lilac clenched her fists and stared at the top of his black boot.
Said boot was now level with her face since she was sprawled across the bottom of the coach. Lilac tried very hard to recall Mrs. Chapone’s instructional letter on The Government of the Temper.
Gritting her teeth, she reached up to yank the traitorous strands of hair away from his person. Throughout all of this, the Prince remained suspiciously silent. The insufferable jackanapes was not even offering to assist her back up onto the seat!
“Are you going to help me up or not?” She spat at him through clamped jaws.
“Not, I think,” he drawled.
Furious with his blatantly rude behavior, she gazed up into his face with all the contempt she felt for him.
Rejar knew he would not forget this picture for a long time. Half of her hair had come undone and now was hanging over one side of her face. He glanced down her body…
This was indeed humorous.
Eyes brilliant with laughter, Rejar nodded his head in the direction of her lap.
Afraid of what she’d see, but knowing she must, Lilac slowly looked down. Her dress was hiked up somewhere around her hips, exposing most of her pantalettes and all of her white silk stockings.
Lilac did not move, did not blink, did not say anything for a full minute. Finally, she gathered what was left of her composure.
She spoke to the floor in a ridiculously righteous tone. “A gentleman would not look.”
Rejar placed one elbow up on the side of the coach, resting his head on his curved palm so that his index finger resided indolently against his temple.
Unquestionably, he continued to enjoy the tantalizing view.
“So you have said.” He threw the implication back at her.
“You are wicked!”
The corners of the Prince’s mouth curved upward, revealing a devastating little dimple in his left cheek. “I have been told it is my nature.”
“To be insensitive?” she sneered. He puzzled her by laughing.
“I can assure you, I am a very sensitive man.” Rejar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. By design, the position brought their heads fairly close together.
“You need only test me to find out,” he whispered seductively.
Her face flamed and she quickly looked away from his inviting posture.
“I don’t like you, Prince Nickolai.”
Rejar smiled slowly.
She faced him, nonplussed. “Did you not hear me?”
“I listen to you very well.” His eyes captured hers with the methodical gleam of a predator—sophisticated beyond her comprehension and oh-so-tantalizing. “You would be surprised at what I hear.”
Bewitched by those gorgeous eyes despite her resolve, Lilac almost fell under his spell. Blinking, she broke free of his strange hold.
“Come.” He held out his hand to her, waiting patiently for her to take it.
There he sat above her in the coach, like some fairytale Prince—handsome beyond measure. Her mouth parted as she looked up at him, affected for all her self chastisement by his sheer masculine beauty.
Knowing she needed his help to regain her seat in the rocking carriage, she tentatively placed her hand in his, noting how his powerful, well-formed hand completely engulfed her small one.
The way he would engulf all that she was, if she let him.
The sober thought brought common sense back to her; and as he easily helped, almost lifted her one-handedly, back onto the seat, she resolved that she must remain aloof from this man. He was far too dangerous.
The landau entered the park, picking up a well-used, popular path in its circuitous route, passing many other carriages and riders.
Lilac noted that every time they passed by a member of the ton, as soon as they were supposedly out of earshot, the whispers began. She looked for a reasonable place to hide, but other than under the Prince’s long hair, no such retreat was forthcoming. Oh, Auntie Whumples would pay for this!
“Coo, don’t this ’ere one look like she’s suckin’ on a lemon?”
Lilac threw a disgusted look at the driver’s back then cringed as she spotted that infernal gossip, Lady Vandershmeer. She was coming right toward them. Of all the terrible luck! Her impromptu outing with the Prince would be all over the ton by this evening.
“Lilac Devere! And his Highness.” Lady Vandershmeer tapped her chin with her fan. “What an interesting development this is.”
Lilac tried desperately to contain the damage with an invented story. “Prince Azov is new to our city, Lady Vandershmeer. He—that is, a friend of his—is a mutual acquaintance of the family, who asked us, my aunt and I, if we might show him about town.”
“A mutual acquaintance? And who might that be?” Lady Vandershmeer was plainly disbelieving.
“Prinny,” came the deep voice beside her, shocking both the women.
Lady Vandershmeer dropped her lorgnette. “The Prince Regent?”
“Why are you surprised? I am a Prince and he is a Prince; should we not know each other?” Rejar stared the irritating woman down.
“Well, I suppose so, your Highness.” Lady Vandershmeer was clearly flustered by Prince Azov’s commanding demeanor.
“Lilac and I must continue with our”—he glanced
at her, then back to Lady Vandershmeer—“tour. Good day.” He waved his hand imperiously in the air. The driver immediately lurched the coach forward.
But not before Lilac saw Lady Vandershmeer’s mouth drop.
Outraged, Lilac turned to the Prince. “What possessed you to use that name?” she demanded. “Now you’ve ruined everything!”
“Prinny?” Rejar was confused. “I assure you, I have met this ruler you speak of at an engagement I attended with—”
“No, you twit! My name. You called me Lilac in front of her!”
Rejar leaned back lazily into the corner of the landau. “What was I supposed to call you—Prunella?”
Lilac winced. “Don’t you ever speak that name again. I detest it!”
“Really?” He made a great show of yawning, reminding Lilac of…someone. “What a revelation.”
“You are so aggravating! You know very well I am referring to your usage of my first name, which, by the way, I have never ever given you permission to use.”
“It is your name.” He shrugged as if he were not very interested in the topic. “Why should I need permission to use it?”
The man was an idiot! “Because, you were too familiar!”
Rejar chuckled low in his throat at her unknowing play on words: too Familiar. Not yet, but he intended to be.
His laughter was the last straw. The man was insufferable and strangely obtuse; it was time to end this charade of an outing. “I wish to go home. Immediately.”
“Why?”
Why! Let me count the reasons. She already knew enough about this man to realize she was going to have to convince him. Unlike any proper gentleman who would bring her home simply because she had stated it was her wish. The mutton head.
She reached for a good excuse. “It’s getting chilly.”
“It is not.”
Lilac pursed her lips. “I tell you, it is!” She rubbed her hands briskly up and down her arms. “Look, I’m shivering. Brrr…”
A mischievous dimple popped into his cheek. “Let me see.”
Before she realized his intent, he leaned forward to run the pads of his long, well-shaped fingers down her arms, leaving a trail of molten heat in the wake of his touch.