Perilous Princess: A Sexy Historical Romance

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  Here in England, the aristocracy maintained an odd sense of democracy among their upper classes. Even though Anna was royalty and cousin to the Queen, she was a princess without a kingdom. It was therefore considered appropriate for the higher classes to invite her to call upon them, although a mere baroness extending the same invitation would be considered rude. As the wife of an earl, Lady Natasha’s invitation fit within that strict border of acceptability and Anna had been duty-bound to accept on her mother’s behalf, as the invitation had been quite properly addressed to her mother, the Princess Cathrine.

  Of course her mother would not attend. Anna had not tried to inform her of the invitation when she had stopped by her room that morning, just as she failed to mention other invitations. Her mother did not seem to be interested in anything outside her room. Her books and her laudanum were her only concerns.

  Anna often sat for hours by her side, reading and occasionally watching her mother doze, wondering what she could do to draw Cathrine back to the world at large. Many of the texts Anna read dealt with the illnesses of the mind and discussed treatments. But no answers had availed themselves yet.

  So Anna had donned a morning dress and pinned up her hair, wrapped herself in cloak and bonnet and settled into the corner of the carriage Uncle Rupert had acquired for family outings, for the short trip from Mayfair to the address in St. James’. If nothing else it was nice to be out on her own, if a maid and a footman shadowing her every step could be defined as being alone. Her father and her uncle were not with her, which left her alone with her thoughts.

  She had barely spoken to Lady Natasha at her birthday party last Tuesday. She had been polite and sat for the requisite ten minutes with her hostess. Her father had produced the gift Anna had wrapped herself, a small bottle of rose water. After that, Anna had spent most of her time in the chair by the mast, content to while away the afternoon with minimal company.

  Anna couldn’t fathom why Lady Natasha might have invited her to call upon her at home. They didn’t know each other well enough and Lady Natasha was a wife and mother. They had nothing in common.

  The footman dropped the step and handed her out, while Jenny, her mother’s maid, knocked upon the imposing front door. The townhouse was a grand building with red brick walls and white trim. Lace hung at the windows. Through the window closest to the door, Anna could see a magnificent arrangement of flowers—lilies and roses and baby’s breath, ribbons and dark glossy leaves. She realized with a start that her own house was bereft this woman’s touch, run as it was by two older men and indifferent staff who lacked the motivation that a strong housekeeper and woman of the house would provide.

  She was shown into the house and her bonnet and cloak taken. A butler walked her into the very room where the arrangement of flowers had been sitting. Anna looked to her right as she entered and there they were, sitting upon a gleaming table.

  Lady Natasha rose to her feet as Anna entered, a smile on her face and her hand out in welcome. “You are most welcome here in my home, Your Highness,” she said.

  “Thank you, Lady Natasha.” Anna looked around the empty room. “I hope I am not too early? Your note did say ten o’clock.”

  “Not at all,” Lady Natasha said.

  “Your other guests are late, then?”

  “I invited no one else.” Lady Natasha gave her a warm smile.

  Anna frowned. “I confess that I am still learning the ways of England, but is it not…unusual to only invite one guest when you are at home?”

  “I am at home only to you,” the lady said. “I do not always live by the rules, Your Highness. I sometimes find it convenient to ignore them. I believe the same thing can be said of you.”

  “The princess is a rule-breaker extraordinaire, dear sister. You might learn something from her.”

  Anna whirled. Rhys Davies, esquire, stood in the doorway to the sitting room, a hand in his pocket, his shoulder against the door itself. It was a casual pose, one that people rarely dared take in her presence. “You,” she said flatly.

  He straightened up and walked toward her, withdrawing his hand from his pocket. There was a folded note between his fingers, which he held out to her. “This is yours, I believe. It is a pity to ruin a book simply to make a point.”

  Anna took the note. “I have the most important part of the book back, now.” She dropped the note into her reticule and closed it with a snap. “If that is all?”

  “Natasha, would you mind?” Rhys Davies said to Lady Natasha.

  She raised a brow and looked at Anna. “Only if the Princess wishes to be alone with you.”

  Anna pressed her lips together. “I believe Mr. Davies understands very well what will happen if he misbehaves.”

  Rhys Davies smiled and Natasha nodded. “Very well. I will be just beyond the door if you feel you need the company.” She swept past them.

  Anna glanced at Jenny where she stood with her hands folded, just inside the door. “Jenny, step out of the room, please. Shut the door.”

  Jenny looked startled, then she glanced at Rhys Davies.

  “Mr. Davies is a gentleman,” Anna assured her. “I am quite safe. Do as I say.”

  Jenny bit her lip, her eyes wide. Then she dipped into a curtsey and left, closing the door behind her.

  Anna looked at Rhys Davies. “I trust you will not make me a liar?”

  “I am not at all a gentleman,” Davies told her. “But you are safe enough. I have a feeling that you are capable of defending yourself in ways ill-fitting a lady.”

  Anna hid her smile.

  “I am correct, then. I am curious, Princess. How long have you been roaming the streets of London dressed as a man?” He pushed his hand into his trouser pocket once more. “You did not acquire gentlemen’s clothing in the few hours between your departure from the ship and mine. Such an endeavor would take many days, especially if you wished for the matter to remain discreet.”

  “It took months,” she agreed. “Not even the staff at the townhouse are aware of what I do most nights after my bedroom door is locked and bolted.”

  “Your parents do not question you barricading yourself behind a stout door?” Rhys Davies asked.

  Anna paused, hiding the little jump of fright his question prompted. “No, they do not,” she said as evenly as she could.

  Davies sighed. “Princess, I applaud your adventurousness. I even understand why a woman like you would wish to experience the other side of life for yourself.” He pointed to her reticule inside which the note rested. “But you do understand how dangerous your ventures are, do you not?”

  Anna pressed her lips together and the cuts on the inside of her mouth flared painfully at the movement, reminding her of how she had received them. “More dangerous that what?” she asked bluntly. More dangerous than being struck repeatedly by a man you thought you trusted?

  Rhys shook his head. “You may think that dressing as a man gives you a certain degree of protection, but that protection only exists while you remain undiscovered. If the wrong sort was to learn you are a woman in a man’s clothing, you would be in greater peril than if you were found wandering the street in your normal clothes.”

  “Greater peril?” Anna repeated, puzzled.

  He moved closer. “I believe I understand why you risk your virtue and your reputation in this way, but the type of man one comes across late at night on the streets…that sort of man would not understand. He would only see that you are a woman not wearing decent clothing. He might be inclined to take advantage of you because your clothing tells him you are of easy virtue.”

  Anna swallowed. “I am not that foolish. I had thought of this myself. I carry a gun and…other implements.” In fact, she carried a small knife in her boot and a cosh in her pocket. She had never had to use any of them or even threaten to use them. The clothing itself gave her a type of protection. As long as strangers did not get a good look at her face, she could go where she wished with complete freedom.

  Rhys Davi
es’ jaw flexed. “I see you do not fully understand my meaning. A gun will hold a man off if his intention is to trifle with you right then and there. But there are more devious ways of dealing with someone who has secrets they don’t want revealed.”

  “Blackmail,” Anna whispered.

  “The threat of exposing you would work against any weapon you could bear,” Davies added.

  She swallowed. “I…I had not thought of that,” she admitted softly.

  “A man with no scruples could bend your will to his ways,” Davies continued. “He could force you to do anything he wanted, for as long as he wanted. You would become his slave.”

  Anna shifted her shoulders as a shudder rippled between them. “You have made your point, Mr. Davies.”

  “I would be honored if you would call me Rhys.”

  “I do not think such familiarity would be appropriate.”

  “You forget, Princess. I know your secret.”

  Her heart squeezed. “And now you will blackmail me?” Coldness settled in her chest and she felt a little sick.

  He took a step closer. “No, I am not forcing you to this, Your Highness. It was a gentle demonstration of the power secrets hold. I am well aware of the differences in our stations. I understand more thoroughly than most men, I wager.” There was a bitter note in his voice that would be well hidden to most listeners, but Anna had spent many years listening carefully to her father and her uncle, trying to discern any oddity or strangeness that might give her forewarning of an impending fit of madness and the violence that accompanied it. She detected the jarring emotion in Davies’ words with some surprise.

  “Why do you say it that way?” she demanded.

  “Then you do not know who I am.” The corners of his mouth turned down. Now the bitterness was fully revealed. “You mean that no one has thought to tell you of the scandal surrounding Lord Munroe and the beautiful actress who bore his child?”

  Anna put it together quickly. From a young age, she had been taught her own family’s complicated and intertwined relationships and the scandals and by-blows that were erased from the page in whatever way possible. Davies had called Lady Natasha “sister” yet she was undoubtedly a highborn woman.

  “You’re Munroe’s illegitimate son,” Anna concluded.

  He gave a short bow. “At your service.”

  She studied him. “Yes, I suppose one like you would understand the differences in ranks quite well indeed.”

  “As vast as that difference is, Your Highness, it is not the only difference between us. The other is the one that represents the greatest danger to you.”

  “And that would be?” she asked as calmly as possible, but her heart was leaping once more. Rhys Davies had an uncommon ability to think far ahead of her own intuition. What had he thought of now?

  “We both wear trousers, but only one of us is really a man,” he said softly. “You are open-minded, Princess. That will be your undoing.”

  “Because I am a woman?” she asked, but she already knew that was what he meant. “Are you saying in a most roundabout way that women really are weaker than men in all matters?”

  “Are you siding with the blue-stockings, Your Highness?” He seemed merely curious, rather than offended at the idea.

  “What if I do?” Anna asked heatedly. “I do not believe women are weaker than men in every field of endeavor. They are physically weaker, it is true—” She hesitated. “Is that your meaning, Davies? That I am weak and any man might overcome my defenses by sheer power?”

  “That was not my meaning,” Davies said.

  He took another step closer and now she had to lift her chin to look at him. “Move away from me,” she said sharply. “You are far too close.”

  “That is my meaning,” he said softly.

  She frowned. “I fail to understand. You are being unnecessarily obtuse.” But she knew her lack of understanding was her own fault. Whatever this man was implying, it was her own ignorance that prevented her from understanding his meaning.

  Or perhaps it was his physical proximity that was the cause of her confusion. She fancied she could feel warmth from his body, bathing her face and her hands. She swallowed.

  “Shall I demonstrate my meaning, Your Highness?”

  “Please move away,” she whispered. Her heart was beating too hard and her corset suddenly felt too tight and constrictive. She couldn’t breathe.

  He lifted his hand and she watched him rest it against her waist with near panic freezing her mind and her muscles. Heat from his fingers radiated against her flesh through her clothing.

  She looked up. He was leaning over her now. “Don’t….” she whispered.

  His lips pressed against hers.

  Anna’s mind became a blank slate, bereft of any thought. Instead, feelings and sensations tore through her nerves, some of them making themselves felt for the first time in her life.

  His lips were warm against hers and he tasted…odd. His breath was sweet, unmarred by the taste of tobacco or spirits. If this was how a man usually tasted, then she approved of the sensation. It was very pleasant.

  Then his tongue pressed inside her mouth and her thoughts jittered apart in surprise and…more. The rush of sensation seemed to start from the very middle of her body. From between her legs and the flesh there throbbed heavily.

  Anna realized she was pressing herself against him as hard as he was holding her. His hands were both on her back, one down low, tangled in the folds of her skirt and pressing over her bottom. The other was against her spine, high up by her shoulders.

  The thought came to her in barely coherent form that she wanted him to move his hands elsewhere…but she wasn’t sure where, just that she wanted them against her.

  Then he did move his hands. His arm slid farther around her waist, as if he was holding her up. The other hand pushed up into her hair and held her head steady, as the kiss deepened.

  Anna wasn’t aware of making the decision to do so, but found her tongue was probing against his, tasting him. It was a delightful sensation and she repeated it.

  He groaned. The sound came from deep inside his chest. She could feel the sound transmitted through her breasts, which were pushed up against him. It was only then she realized that she was bent over his arm, as he pressed himself against her.

  Then he tore his lips away from hers. She was put back upon her feet. He took several steps away from her and put his back to her.

  He was breathing heavily. Anna realized that she was almost panting, too. Her stays were too tight. She desperately wanted to draw in a full breath.

  Rhys Davies lifted his hand and pressed the back of it against his mouth and over his shoulder, she could see that the hand trembled.

  “I apologize most abjectly for my behavior, Your Highness,” he said stiffly.

  Anna licked her lips. The flesh was swollen. Her hair had come loose from the careless thrust of his fingers. However, all she could seem to focus upon was her sense of disappointment.

  The throbbing that had swept from between her legs across most of her body began to subside, letting her think. “I do not believe an apology is necessary,” she said, pulling the words together slowly. “Your demonstration was more than adequate.”

  He turned to face her, as if she had surprised him. Then he moved away again, striding over to the closed door and putting his hand on the handle. “That was more demonstration than I had intended.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. There was a stormy emotion in his eyes and face she didn’t understand and again she knew the fault rested with her. “I only intended to impress upon you the dangers of your masquerade,” he added.

  “You have,” she said softly.

  He let out a deep breath. “Then I will consider my task complete and remove myself from your life. Good morning, Your Highness.”

  He opened the door, stepped out and swiftly closed it before she could put together a coherent response.

  Chapter Four

  Rhys avoided all
society affairs for the next week. He told himself he was sick of the search for a suitable wife. His first efforts had proved to be desolate and the hunt distracted him from his work, which was far worse a crime in his estimation than a few uncomfortable feelings.

  However, he kept finding himself thinking about the princess and her very uncommon ways. He would be sitting at his desk reading a brief and would come to a while later to realize that the last few minutes had been spent staring at the paper while the script blurred and his thoughts ran freely. He remembered the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her on his lips and tongue.

  He would stand and try to shake off the physical ache and disguise the thick rigidness between his thighs.

  Why was he continually thinking of the woman? She was the most unattractive female he had ever met. She was too slender for his tastes. Yes, too slender, too fair and her eyes were too blue. She was far too tall. He liked a woman who could fit into his arms.

  Except that she had fitted against him rather well, her body pliant and soft despite the slenderness he was trying hard to dislike.

  Then, when the aching and the need reached fever point, he would calm himself with logic. She was a member of the royal family and far beyond his reach as a desirable companion in any capacity whatsoever. The kiss he’d stolen could have him jailed for insolence or worse. He could only be grateful that she had the gracious sense to allow him the indecency.

  At least he had managed to remove himself from the room and the house before the situation had complicated itself any more.

  He had last seen her on Tuesday and today was Monday. Yesterday, he had driven himself into a frenzy of discontent in his rooms, until he had flung himself down the stairs and walked the paths of St. James’Park until utter exhaustion had let him fall into bed and sleep. It was the first good night’s sleep he’d had all week, but he didn’t feel the better for it. On the contrary, with the tired ache gone from his bones, his energy had risen and along with it, his desire.