A Royal Kiss and Tell

“I wish we’d known to expect you,” she said. “I could have spared you the trip here.”

“Hmm,” he said, his gaze steady on hers.

“Shall I give Beck a message when he returns?”

He smiled slowly. Her heart felt as if it was beating out of her chest.

“That won’t be necessary, thank you. But if I may intrude for one more minute before you go...might I have a word, Lady Caroline?”

“Well...” She glanced at her guests.

“I won’t take but a moment.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, and gestured for him to speak.

His brows dipped. “I had hoped for a word in private.”

“Ah. Well, as you can see...”

“Caro, darling, you should hear him,” her aunt suggested.

“Of course you must, Caro,” her uncle added. “We’ll be here when you’re done. Take all the time you need.”

Caroline shot Leopold a look. “Very well. But I won’t need long at all.”

The prince stepped to one side to allow her access to the door. She walked out of the room. She supposed Leopold followed. She was so angry and confused and annoyed that she marched down the hall to the small receiving salon near the front of the house. She walked into the room, whirled about and folded her arms.

Leopold entered behind her, quietly closed the door, and smiled. “Well. From the reception I’ve received from you and your guests, it would appear my reputation is even worse than I feared.”

“Oh, it’s quite awful,” she agreed.

“You’re cross with me about Jacleen,” he said, pushing away from the door.

Caroline gaped at him. Then she laughed. “How astute of you! I can’t believe you would utter her name out loud.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked as he slowly advanced on her, his gaze moving over her. “Her name is Jacleen Bouvan. She is a Weslorian from the mountains that border Alucia.”

Caroline frowned with confusion. Why was he telling her this? What possible reason? Had she been his lover before? Or... Why was he smiling at her? “Did you think I would find it amusing that you took a maid from her gainful employment and...” She stopped talking before she said aloud what she feared he’d done.

“No. Did you think so ill of me that you’d believe I’d find such pleasure with you, then only hours later take advantage of that poor woman?”

Did she think so poorly of him? At the moment, she didn’t want to think of him at all. But if she did think of him, she desperately wanted to think poorly of him. It helped her prepare for his inevitable departure. For his perfidy. “I don’t know, Leopold—are you really so different from any other man?”

He blinked. “I left with Miss Bouvan because she was being used by the duke for a purpose that offended me. I wanted to help her.”

Caroline was prepared to be indignant and make him understand that she knew the nature of men. But she hadn’t expected for him to say what she knew was true—Jacleen was being used. She rubbed her nape. “And, what, then the prince swooped in and saved her?”

He looked surprised by that and glanced away a moment, as if pondering it. “Je, I suppose I did. Caroline, you must believe me—I enjoyed your company far too much to ever sully it with a meaningless tryst.”

Her cheeks began to bloom. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Her blush deepened. Surely it was impolite to ask her. But then he lifted his hand and lay his palm against her neck. “What a question,” she said softly. “You know I did. Very much.”

Leopold’s smile was slow. “And yet, it’s nice to hear you admit it.”

Caroline’s blood was heating with his casual caress, but she was determined to give him no sign of it. “But why? Why you? Why must you be the one to take her from Arundel?”

He shifted closer, his gaze dipping to her lips. “Why not me?”

He bent his head as if to kiss her, but Caroline put her hand on his mouth. “I have two callers waiting in the salon.”

“I won’t linger,” he murmured, and touched his lips to hers.

Caroline’s eyes fluttered shut. His confession wasn’t fitting with the story she’d created for herself, the one where she never forgave him and promptly forgot him. And yet here was her hand sliding up his chest, her head angling to better kiss him. Here she pressed her body against his, her hand snaking up his arm, to his shoulder. She wanted him to seduce her, wanted to feel his hands and his mouth on her skin again.

Unfortunately, somewhere in her heart a bell was clanging, warning her. She had proudly protected her virtue for six and twenty years. She was not going to be swayed by how handsome he was, or that his lips felt like butter against hers. Or that he smelled like cinnamon and clove.

She put her hands on his chest and pushed back. “This isn’t...there is something not...”

“Something not right, I agree,” he finished for her. “About the way you are feeling about me. About the way I am feeling about you. But devil take all if I know what to do about it.”