‘None at all.’ She inhaled with a gasp when he lifted the nightgown away. ‘I was wrong to think this would be a prison. It’s only a prison if you let others command you.’
‘Princess, I am at your command.’ Michael knelt at her feet, touching her long legs, kissing her soft skin. He caressed a path up to her breasts, teasing and tasting her until her hands dug into his hair. ‘What are your orders?’
‘Take off your clothes.’
Though her tone was teasing, he obeyed. When he was naked, Hannah’s arms encircled his neck, and he kissed her deeply. Skin to skin, he possessed her, letting her feel how very much he loved her.
Michael lifted her into his arms and strode over to the bed. Dropping her on to the coverlet, he reached for her discarded crown. With a teasing smile, he laid it upon her head. Like a pagan princess, she captivated him.
‘What are your orders now?’ Michael covered her body with his, enjoying the way she trembled with desire.
‘Love me,’ she whispered, reaching up to kiss him. The warmth of her mouth evoked a searing desire and the need to join their bodies together.
Michael lowered his mouth to her skin, marvelling that she belonged to him now. His Princess and his beloved wife.
‘Always,’ he promised.
Epilogue
Hannah sat upon the floor of the drawing room, serving tea to a stuffed bear. Emily Chesterfield, the Countess of Whitmore, had her own skirts tucked over her feet while their daughters offered chocolates to the other doll guests. Diamonds and priceless jewels hung from the little girls’ necks, while heirloom tiaras rested on their heads.
‘I don’t know about you, but I’m not going in,’ the Earl of Whitmore announced, nodding at Michael, who stood in the doorway with him. ‘They might make us wear a crown.’
Hannah smiled and rose to her feet. ‘Michael already has to wear one on formal occasions,’ she told her brother, as she drew closer to the men. ‘It’s the price of being a Prince.’
Michael kissed her hand in greeting. ‘May we join you for tea?’
The Countess got up from the carpet, holding the hand of his daughter, Charlotte.
At the age of four, Charlotte wore her hair in two braids, one with a pink ribbon and one with purple. She’d inherited her mother’s beauty, but her stubbornness was a trait of her grandfather.
‘Papa, you have to sit by me.’
Michael allowed Charlotte to take him by the hand, leading him to a chair. His daughter chose a chocolate biscuit from the tea tray and stuffed it into his mouth. ‘I made these, with Aunt Emily’s help,’ she explained.
He brought her up to sit on his knee. ‘They are delicious.’
Charlotte sent him a sunny smile and wound her arms around him. Her sapphire-and-diamond crown dipped below her forehead, and he adjusted it on her head. Pride and contentment filled him up inside, along with the gratitude that he could now give his wife and daughter everything they would ever need.
Hannah came up beside them, and Michael took her hand in his. As their daughter chattered with her cousin Victoria and the Countess, he met his wife’s gaze. Love shone from Hannah’s smile, along with silent amusement.
Charlotte jumped down from his lap to serve tea to the dolls, and Michael turned to Hannah with a wicked gaze. He glanced down at his lap and whispered, ‘There’s room.’
‘No, you wretch.’ Hannah rested her hands on his shoulders, laughing in his ear. ‘That would be improper.’
‘I like being improper,’ he whispered back. ‘We could be quite improper later.’
‘Yes, later,’ she promised.
He stood up from the chair and reached out to adjust her crown. Hannah’s smile transformed at the touch of his hands. In his eyes, he let her see all the desire he held, and how much she meant to him. How much he loved her.
Taking his hand in hers, Hannah sent him a soft smile of her own. ‘Or sooner.’
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5018-9
THE ACCIDENTAL PRINCESS
Copyright © 2010 by Michelle Willingham
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