The Wild Princess: A Novel of Queen Victoria's Defiant Daughter

More than anything, Louise wanted to start her marriage by establishing a relationship of trust and mutual respect. If she said or did anything this very first night to make her young husband angry or turn him against her, they’d never develop the lovely intimacy her mother and father had shared.

She drew another breath and settled herself a few inches farther back on the mattress. Rearranged her gown to reveal, through the side slit, the curve of her calf and a slim ankle. Tugged the neckline down just a wee bit.

Never had showing a modest hint of décolletage hurt a woman’s negotiations with a man. Louise stared at the door.

It did not open.

The voices had stopped; Lorne must be alone now. And he’d know she was ready. Wouldn’t he?

Perhaps she should call out to him. Invite him to enter. He couldn’t possibly be waiting for a formal invitation when it was his right to come in and take her, whether or not she was prepared physically or emotionally. But, she reminded herself, Lorne was a gentle soul. Always so thoughtful and concerned for others’ feelings whenever she’d been around him.

Louise slid back all the way onto the bed, drew her legs up under her, turned and plumped up three lavender-scented pillows at the head of the bed, then lounged back against them in a seductive pose. Encouragement, that’s what the poor man needed. Until this moment, she hadn’t considered that he might be as nervous as she about their first night as a married couple. Though, of course, not for the same reason.

She had a confession to make. And by now it had wedged itself like a lump of stale bread in her throat.

Her head began to ache. She looked down at her hands, unclenched them and blotted her damp palms on the sheets.

What on earth was he doing out there?

She was just about to call out to her husband when a soft knock sounded on the door.

“Yes?” More of a croak than a word. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, Lorne, please come in.”

The door swung open slowly, and he stepped through.

She had been prepared to see him in his nightshirt. Or perhaps wrapped in a silk robe. Or even, if he were in an uncharacteristically aggressive mood, entirely naked. She was surprised—no, shocked!—to see he was fully dressed, just as she’d left him nearly two hours earlier, all but for the sword. He still wore the high-collared blue military jacket with braiding, medals, polished black boots and belt. He looked trim and vigorous and glorious, but not at all ready for bed.

Lorne took two steps into the room, his brilliant blue eyes roaming the spacious chamber, as if it were a foreign territory he’d been sent to conquer. He fixed first on the dressing table where Car had arranged her crystal atomizers, gold brush and comb, and velvet jewel case in which rested her wedding diamonds. Then his gaze swept the rest of the room. He seemed almost startled when he found her already on the bed.

Wrong, she thought in desperation, realizing her mistake in trying to play the seductress. He was evidently terribly shy. And now she’d made it all worse by her sultry posing. She tucked her bare ankles up under the bottom flounce of her gown. Poor boy. He’d been out in the other room, building up his courage, and here she was playing the vamp.

She patted the bed beside her. “I was just trying to relax,” she said giving him an encouraging smile. “It’s been such an exhausting day, hasn’t it?”

He dipped his squared-off chin in acknowledgment, but his eyes didn’t entirely meet hers.

She frowned. “Do you like the gown?” What an asinine thing to say, Louise. But it was all she could think of at the moment with her heart racing so.

At last, he gave her an overall scan, and blushed. “Very much. You’ve never looked lovelier, my dear.”

My dear. That was progress.

She patted the bed again. “Come sit with me. Let’s just talk.” She drew a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you, Lorne.” And suddenly the conversation she’d rehearsed a hundred times seemed tenfold more difficult. Nevertheless she steeled herself and held out her hand to him.

He straightened his long, lean form and strode quickly toward her, his eyes bright and wide, their celebrated blue more dazzling than the delicious cobalt hue she often chose for her palette when painting a landscape sky. As he came closer she could see the perspiration dampening his collar.

No matter. She’d get the hard part out of the way quickly. Reassure him that Donovan—no, don’t say his name!—reassure him that she had been but a child, innocent, foolish, uneducated as to the ways of men when she’d let herself be led astray just once. She’d swear to him that this stranger from her past meant absolutely nothing to her and, indeed, she hadn’t seen him in years. He’d disappeared from her life.