The Trouble With Princesses

by Tracy Anne Warren

  I wonder what he is doing?

  Probably choosing a proper bride with lofty connections and a dowry that would line Rosewald’s coffers with gold for the next millennium.

  Scowling, she forced herself to return to her reading, pushing her spectacles higher onto her nose so she could clearly see the page.

  A soft knock sounded at the door about ten minutes later. The butler came inside. “Excuse me, Your Highness, but a visitor has arrived.”

  Ariadne lowered her book. “A visitor? In this weather?”

  Not to mention at this time of year. Daniel and Mercedes didn’t receive many calls during the winter, not even from their neighbors, who had far too much sense to venture out on raw, blustery days like this one.

  “Whoever it is must be here to see the major or Princess Mercedes. Did you put them in the drawing room?”

  “I did. However, the gentleman asked specifically for you.”

  “For me?” she repeated, confused. “But who would call on me here?”

  “I would,” said a deep, silvery voice she had thought never to hear again. “Hello, Ariadne.”

  Her gaze flew to Rupert, her heart beating like a trapped bird as she drank in the sight of him.

  He stood on the threshold, looking tall and magnificent and every inch a king. His golden hair was windblown, his cheeks ruddy from the elements through which he had so recently traveled. Had he come on horseback? The roads were notoriously slick this time of year; she wasn’t sure a coach could even make the trip.

  Without waiting for her permission, he strode deeper into the room.

  She gave a nod to the servant, dismissing him. When she looked again at Rupert, he was staring at her, his eyes raking her body with curious intensity.

  She crossed her arms. “What are you doing here? Did Mercedes or Daniel know you might be arriving? No one mentioned to me that you were expected.”

  Yes, why has he come? she wondered, her pulse racing as she considered the possibilities. She could think of only one reason that made any sense and yet it seemed much too good to be true.

  Could it be that he had missed her?

  Could it be that he had come here for her?

  “They did not know I was en route,” he told her. “I traveled quickly, sailing most of the way, and made the journey as fast, or faster, than a message could have been sent. But why waste our time exchanging useless niceties? You must know why I am here.”

  Again, his gaze fell to her lap and he stared hard at the blanket covering her, as if he were puzzling out some mystery he couldn’t quite solve.

  An answering frown settled across her forehead. “No, I am afraid I do not. You shall have to make it plainer.”

  Without warning, he stalked forward. “Do not dissemble with me, Ariadne. I had Emma’s letter. I know that you lied to me.”

  “Lied? About what?”

  “Remove that blanket and quit hiding.”

  “Hiding? You make no sense.”

  “Fine. I shall do it for you.” Reaching out, he yanked the thick plaid up and away.

  • • •

  Rupert stared, prepared to find her belly round and heavy with his child. Instead, her figure was trim and slender, perhaps even a bit thinner than the last time he’d seen her.

  Maybe she was one of those women who barely showed, even late in the pregnancy.

  She rose from her chair and despite the new angle, he still couldn’t find so much as a curve. Her stomach was as flat as ever.

  “I thought there would be some visible sign of the child by now,” he said.

  “What child?” she demanded, her eyebrows arching.

  He ignored her perplexed expression, reminding himself that she had deceived him. “The one you are carrying. Unless I miscalculated the date of conception, you ought to be about seven months along and displaying evidence of your impending maternity.”

  Though how he could have miscalculated he did not know. They’d been fully intimate for only a short time late last summer; it narrowed the timing down considerably.

  Her mouth fell open for a moment before she snapped it shut again. She crossed her arms over her chest. “So that is why you are here? Because you believe I am with child?”

  “Clearly.”

  “And how does Emma factor into this?” she questioned. “You say she wrote to you?”

  “As you ought to have done,” he added, unable to keep the accusation from his voice. “How could you have lied to me like this? How could you have thought to keep my own son from me? My heir?”

  All animation drained from her expression; then her chin came up at a dangerous tilt. “So that is what you think of me, is it? That I would be so low as to try to conceal a pregnancy and keep a baby from you?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “What else am I to believe under the circumstances? Is that why you ran away? Because you thought I would not want our child?”

  “I ran away, as you call it, because I refused to be forced to wed out of some misguided sense of honor. As for your son, assuming it would even be a son, I am afraid I must disappoint you on that score. There is no baby. I told you in Rosewald that I had not conceived and I have not. I am not with child.”

  His fingers clenched at his sides. “But Emma—”

  “Said exactly what? Did she actually tell you I am enceinte?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Then how, precisely?”

  He cast his mind back, searching his memory for the wording. What had she said again? Something to the effect that she hoped Ariadne had an easy time in childbed when her time came. He supposed Ariadne was right; Emma had not come straight out and said Ariadne was pregnant. She’d simply insinuated, even though Emma wasn’t generally the type to insinuate anything.

  His gaze locked with Ariadne’s.

  Blazes! I’ve been duped! And by my little sister, no less.

  “Exactly,” Ariadne said, clearly reading on his face the conclusion he’d drawn.

  “But why?”

  “I can only presume that Emma wanted to play matchmaker. Even though I have told her our engagement was never real in a romantic sense, she has some misguided notion that we are in love. No doubt she thought if she got you to come chasing up here after me, we would talk and fall into each other’s arms again, happy evermore.”

  She shrugged and looked away. “But all she has done is upset and inconvenience us both. You in particular. I am sorry that you traveled such a very long way for nothing. At least you can rest easy now that you know I am not with child.”

  His shoulders sank, an unmistakable sense of disappointment sweeping through him. Had he wanted Ariadne to be pregnant? He realized now that he had. He realized too that for all his anger over her supposed deception, he’d been exultant, knowing he would have a reason to bind her to him again.

  But without a baby, there was nothing.

  A dreadful bleakness spread through him, a sensation akin to death.

  He’d come here prepared to take her home with him. Was he really going to leave without her? Was he truly about to let her go . . . forever?

  • • •

  Ariadne turned her back, unable to bear looking at him for another minute. It was killing her being so close yet knowing he had come only for the child he’d believed she carried. He didn’t want her; he wanted his heir. He would have married her, of course, but out of duty again.

  Always duty.

  How could Emma have done this to her? And if she wasn’t mistaken, Mercedes as well. She could well imagine the two of them conspiring behind her back, convinced that Rupert felt much more than he actually did. But they were mistaken, tragically so, their interference nothing more than wishful thinking.

  “I cannot imagine what is keeping Mercedes, or Daniel either.” To her consternation, her voice sounded high and oddly strained. “I’ll ring for a servant to fetch them.”

  She started to move away, but he reached out and caught hold of her wrist
.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Not yet. We’ve barely had a chance to say hello.”

  Hello? He wants to be civil now, does he?

  Still, she didn’t pull away, her wrist lax within his grip. “I thought you didn’t care to waste time on niceties,” she said with undisguised sarcasm.

  “Forgive me for that. My temper has been short of late.”

  “I imagine so, what with you thinking you had fathered an out-of-wedlock child with me. You must be greatly relieved.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “Actually, I am not.”

  Surprised, she turned and looked up at him.

  He stepped closer. “I was angry, of course, when I believed you hadn’t told me that you were expecting, but I never minded the idea of you carrying my baby.”

  “So you wouldn’t have been upset having to bring home a bride you’d married over the anvil and a newborn baby who clearly had been conceived months before? Assuming, of course, that I had agreed to marry you at all.”

  His grip on her wrist tightened. “Oh, you would have married me.”

  “Would I? I am an independent woman now. I have plans. I am trying to decide between taking a villa in Italy or renting a whitewashed house by the Aegean Sea in Greece. They both sound delightful.”

  “And will that make you happy? Living in such hot climes?”

  “I cannot see why it wouldn’t,” she said, hoping her lie sounded more convincing to him than it did to herself.

  “You won’t get lonely? Or are you planning to take a companion with you?”

  She frowned. That was one part of her plan that had never set well with her. “I am sure I shall meet any number of interesting people. I won’t have time to grow lonely.”

  “How about at night?” he drawled. “I know how restless you are without a man in your bed.”

  He was right. She was restless and hadn’t enjoyed a truly good night’s sleep since the last night she’d spent with him.

  But why was he saying these things? What was his purpose?

  “Maybe I will find someone new,” she said, just to taunt him. “A swarthy Latin lover. They say such men have a streak of wild passion in them.”

  With a slight tug, he pulled her against him. “I think you are much more suited to blonds.” He pressed a kiss against her jaw, making her skin tingle. “Besides, you already have a lover.”

  “No, I don’t. You ceased being able to call yourself that months ago. You don’t want me. You made that quite plain the last time we spoke.”

  “I don’t recall saying anything of the sort.”

  “Then you have a faulty memory. I practically begged you to come to my room and yet you turned me away. You didn’t want me then and you don’t want me now. Cease this game, or whatever it may be.”

  “It’s no game, and you are very much mistaken if you think I do not want you. Either then or now. I can see I handled matters badly before. Rather than worrying about your reputation, I should have tumbled you straight into bed the moment you arrived in Rosewald and bound you to me with a child. A real child.”

  As if to emphasize his point, he splayed his palm over her buttocks and pulled her flush against him, so tight that she felt his growing erection. “In fact, I think I’ll use this time in Scotland to do just that. I can always claim I’m snowed in and cannot return home just yet.”

  He brushed his mouth over her cheek, then across her temple. “Once you’re well and truly enceinte, then I’ll take you back to Rosewald with me. Oh, and we’ll get married here in Scotland. We don’t even need the license I procured.”

  “Married? But you don’t want to marry me—not really. This is just about your duty and your pride again. I won’t be wed out of obligation!”

  He looked her squarely in the eyes. “Then what will you be married for, Ariadne, since I cannot seem to do without you? I’ve been miserable since you left. Unbearable, if truth be told, terrorizing my court and making my servants turn pale every time I walk into a room. What do I need to do? What will it take for you to accept my pledge and promise to be mine from this day forward?”

  She felt her heart skip a beat, then a second—unable to believe what she was hearing. “But I don’t understand. You don’t love me. I heard you say you didn’t that night in the library with Sigrid.”

  He grimaced, his face awash with regret. “If only I could go back and erase that night, I would. But you’re wrong, you know. I never said I didn’t love you. If you’ll recall, I asked her if I looked like the sort of man who would marry for love. You and Sigrid just assumed you knew the answer.”

  “But you aren’t the sort of man to marry for love.”

  “You mean I wasn’t the sort.” He brushed his fingers tenderly over her cheek. “I didn’t know what it was to love until I took the blinders off my eyes and truly saw you, Ariadne. Why else would I have sailed through dangerous, storm-tossed seas in the dead of winter? Why else would I have left my kingdom and raced halfway across Europe except for you?”

  “The baby . . . the one you thought I was going to have.”

  “The one that gave me just the excuse I needed to come after you.” He gave a half smile. “Emma may have gone beyond the bounds with that letter of hers, but she knew what I needed. She knew that I love you and that I’ll never be happy unless I can make you my queen.”

  Something shattered inside her, as if her heart had been encased in stone and he’d just chiseled it free.

  “Oh, Rupert.” She took a gasping breath, tears streaming without warning down her cheeks.

  “Oh, God, don’t cry,” he pleaded, his eyes tormented. “Please, darling, don’t be sad. Maybe I shouldn’t have spoken, but I had to try. I know you have your plans, that you want to travel. Can you trust me to find some way to make things work? I swear I will. Just don’t push me away again. Please don’t make me go away.”

  He pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her with an ardor and desperation she had never thought she’d feel from him again.

  Is this real? Or am I dreaming?

  Suddenly nothing made sense, but whatever fantasy it was that she’d fallen into, she didn’t want it to end. And so she let him kiss her, let him take her mouth with one heady, feverish embrace after another.

  “You wanted me once,” he murmured breathlessly. “Give me another chance. I know I can make you want me again.”

  “I don’t have to give you another chance,” she said.

  He stiffened under her hands, but she soothed him with a palm against his cheek. “I don’t have to because I’ve never stopped wanting you. And I wasn’t crying because I was sad. Don’t you see? It’s because I love you too. Have loved you for a long time now. I just never dreamed you might feel the same.”

  His arms tightened around her, his eyes turning a brilliant blue. “You love me?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, smiling. “More than you’ll ever know.” She twined her arms around his neck. “And I don’t care about traveling. I only said that about Italy and Greece so you wouldn’t know how miserable I’ve been. I still have some pride left, you know.”

  He laughed. “Well, you are destined to be a queen.” He kissed her hard, sealing a vow. “My queen. Tell me now that you’ll marry me.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want a more advantageous bride? Someone who will benefit your court and your country? Sigrid was right about that, you know. Objectively speaking, you could do far better than me.”

  “I was arrogant enough once to think that practical considerations were all that mattered, but sometimes the heart is wiser than the head. As for doing better, there is no one better for me than you. I choose you as my consort, and anyone who objects can go to blazes.”

  A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders as she realized that he truly did love her.

  “Ask me properly, then,” she said gently.

  He studied her for a long moment, then released her and dropped to one knee. Solemnly, he took her hand and gazed up into her e
yes. “Princess Ariadne of Nordenbourg, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

  A radiant smile spread across her face. “Yes! Yes, Rupert, my dearest love.”

  And suddenly he was standing and she was in his arms again, held tight as he crushed his mouth to hers. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, aglow in the knowledge that she would never have to leave his arms again.

  He fit her closer still and was just starting to carry her across to a small sofa on the far side of the room, when a knock came at the door. Before either of them had time to draw apart, Mercedes came into the room, followed by her husband.

  Mercedes was grinning, her eyes alight with obvious satisfaction. “See?” she said over her shoulder to Daniel. “I told you all that silence was a good sign.”

  Daniel’s mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “And I told you, love, that they had no wish tae be disturbed whatever might be transpirin’ inside. A pardon to you both, but there was no restrainin’ her.”

  Mercedes ignored the remark and looked at Ariadne, then at Rupert—who had tucked Ariadne against his side—then back to Ariadne again. “Well? Did it work? Are you engaged again?”

  Ariadne nodded her head. “Yes, we are. For good this time. But you needn’t look so smug about it.”

  Mercedes’s brown eyes sparkled and she clapped her hands in delight.

  “I knew I saw your hand in that letter of Emma’s once Rupert told me about it,” Ariadne scolded. “You two had no right to interfere, you know.”

  “But you interfered on our behalf when Emma and I both needed a push in the right direction,” Mercedes returned. “We want you to be happy and so we thought it only fair that we return the favor. I could see how miserable you were without Rupert, and Emma knew he was sad and pining for you as well. So we thought we would give you both a little nudge.”

  “By telling him I was expecting his child?”

  Daniel’s auburn brows went skyward and he shot Mercedes a look. “Good God, woman, is that what you told him? No wonder King Rupert nearly froze himself to death racing up here. He probably near had heart failure tae boot!”

  “It did the job, did it not?” Mercedes replied without an ounce of remorse. “Emma will be so pleased when she hears the news.”