AWAKENING THE SHY MISS (21 page)

‘You should shoot me instead if that’s how you feel.’ It seemed surreal they could have this discussion and no one was any wiser, but the room was loud, the gun was small and they were supposed to be friends. No one saw what they didn’t expect to see.

Andrew sneered. ‘Your kingdom for a whore? Is she really worth it? Must be incredible in bed.’ His eyes flicked over Evie. ‘I never would have guessed it, my dear. But back to business, Prince. You have until the count of three. One—’

Dimitri didn’t wait. Decisiveness was the best offensive weapon at anyone’s disposal. Strike fast, strike hard. Always fight like you mean it. Men like Andrew bargained on fear working in their favour. He stepped forward rapidly, his body between Andrew and Evie, his foot coming down hard on Andrew’s instep, his hand closing around Andrew’s wrist, knocking the gun away. With his other leg, he brought his knee up into Andrew’s groin. Andrew groaned and doubled over. Dimitri motioned to two footmen. ‘Mr Adair isn’t quite himself. Please show him out.’

Evie was reeling. Dimitri had her, though. She could feel his arm around her, could hear his words at her ear. ‘Don’t faint now, Evie. It’s over. You’re safe.’

He had saved her. Andrew had pulled a gun on her. She could barely grasp the events of the last two minutes, could barely sort them out. Then Dimitri had stepped in front of the gun. He could have been killed, although he’d not acted like it for a moment. She had been horrified, frozen, in fact. But he had been swift, decisive, and the next moment Andrew had been doubled over. She started to sway and Dimitri picked her up, his voice warm. ‘Well, that’s certainly one way to get you into my bed.’

She felt better outside, better still when they were safely inside the pavilion, away from the ballroom and its noise. The pavilion was dark and softly lit. Dimitri pressed a glass of vodka into her hand with a command. ‘Drink.’

‘Andrew pulled a gun on me.’ Disbelief was the only way she could handle the shock. Andrew, her neighbour, her girlish infatuation, had threatened to
kill
her. ‘
You
could have been killed, Dimitri.’ That part too was surreal. She didn’t think there was enough vodka in the world to soften that reality. ‘I meant to thank you for what you did; getting on that stage and standing up for me tonight, but now I have so much more to thank you for and “thank you” seems entirely inadequate.’ But it did reassure her she was doing the right thing in letting him go. He’d already given his life twice for her—tonight in a more physical sense. But one didn’t have to die to give up one’s life and he’d been ready to give up the life he knew for her and live a new one. It was too much. ‘There are no words, Dimitri.’

‘There don’t have to be.’ He leaned towards her, his own hands shaking as he reached for her. For the first time, she was aware of the toll the evening had taken on him. He’d been so sure, so confident when he’d strode on stage, when he’d confronted Andrew and disarmed him, when he’d swept her up into his arms and carried her away to peace and safety. One could easily forget he was only a man, a very mortal man. It was her turn to comfort him, her turn to be strong for him. He needed to know she was all right.

She covered his shaking hands. ‘I am safe,’ she murmured. ‘We are safe.’ Then she kissed him, slow and hard, to show him they were alive, to show him how much she loved him. There was so much love she wanted to show him.

Evie gave his lips a last kiss and slid to her knees in front of him, her hands working the fall of his evening trousers until he was free and hard in her hand. She let a wicked smile take her lips as she looked up at him. ‘I am going to put my mouth on you, do you think you’d like that?’ she whispered, her own breath catching in anticipation, then her lips were there, at the base of his shaft, kissing it gently where it rose from his dark tangle. She licked up his length, trailing her tongue along its ridge, delighting in the moaned plea that escaped him; mercy and pleasure and celebration mixed together.

His pleasure drove her to greater lengths. She closed her mouth over the tender head of him, her tongue probing the tiny weeping slit at its summit with wicked strokes. She felt him rise beneath her, felt his hands grasp for purchase in her hair, his hips press forward as he arched. She felt his body gather, rushing to its conclusion. She pulled back at the last and took him in hand. She loved this—watching him pulse, watching his body wrack in pleasure and knowing she’d had a part in it. This was life at its finest.

Except when he was kissing her.

Or caressing her breasts.

Or undressing her.

His hands were at the laces of her gown, the russet creation falling to the floor, forgotten in passion’s wake. His recovery time, impressively immediate. Her mouth work had served to encourage rampant passion, perhaps fuelled by the realisation that Andrew’s threat had passed and they were both indeed alive and well.

‘I’ll be ready by the time I get you out of all these clothes,’ he growled, nipping at her ear. ‘I’ve never understood why women wear so many clothes.’ So many clothes or not, they were all vanquished in relatively short order. Her underskirts and chemise joining her gown in an ever more frantic undressing. Desire rose, her own hands pushing at his dark evening jacket, tugging at white shirttails and patterned waistcoat. She wanted him naked as soon as possible. He kissed her hard as he ripped his arms from his shirtsleeves, throwing the shirt aside, her own hands busy with his trousers.

It had become a foregone conclusion that they weren’t going to make it to the bed.

Chapter Twenty-Six

T
he divan was as far as they could go for now, the limits of their perseverance. She knew this in her bones, in the heated core of herself. They were both rough in their need, craving each other with a new intensity. She bit his lip and he gave a fierce growl, dancing her backwards to the divan. This coming together would be fast, furious, a celebration and a secret farewell. She opened her thighs to him, dragging him down, her body urging him onward. She was already wet with wanting. He was pulsing and hard at her entrance and he did not wait for further invitation.

She welcomed the roughness, the wildness of him. Her nails raked his back and she arched up into him, fierce in her own passion. He thrust hard and she moaned, feeling climax approaching fast and sure. This would be over in moments. He thrust again, his mouth close to her ear, his voice harsh with his own desire. ‘Say it, Evie.’

His next thrust didn’t come. She shoved her hips upwards to coax him. She tugged at him. ‘What are you waiting for?’ Her body was frantic as it hovered on the edge of pleasure satisfied, the treat of shattering denied.

‘I’m waiting for you.’ His muscles were taut as he braced above her. ‘Say it, Evie. Say we’ll build a life together, one day at a time.’

Or she’d never climax with him again. ‘You don’t fight fair.’ Her body was already hating her hesitation.

He gave a hoarse laugh. ‘Not true. All is fair in love and war, and, Evie, I mean to win.’

Her resistance crumbled at that and she gave him the words he wanted, the words she wanted and in the moment they might have been true. ‘Then, yes. Now, would you please claim your victory?’ He grinned and her legs went about him, holding him close as he took them the rest of the way to pleasure not for the last time that night.

She gave herself over to the pleasure. Dawn seemed a long way off and what she had to do seemed a long way off too. There were times in the long night when she thought perhaps sex would indeed hold the morning at bay. They moved to his decadent bed, and she took him astride, her breasts brushing his chest as she moved on him, wanting to remember the feel of him, the look of him as joy swamped him.

But they were mere mortals. There was indeed a point of exhaustion and they reached it there in the dark in each other’s arms.

* * *

Then there was light. And reality. She allowed herself the luxury of watching him sleep, this beautiful man who had saved her, not just from Andrew, but from a life of oblivion, of being a shell of a human. Now it was her turn to save him. Everyone needed a champion, maybe the strongest needed them the most. Today, she would be his hero.

She rose quietly and dressed, leaving a soft wrapped package on the vanity, a note folded on top. He would understand. He was a prince, he was used to putting others first, she assured herself. He would come to appreciate her choice and he would understand the necessity for it. ‘All’s fair in love and war,’ she whispered, blowing him a goodbye kiss and disappearing through the curtain before she could think better of it, before her courage gave out.

At the inn, the coach was waiting. She checked to see that her trunk had arrived and was already strapped on. Fussing over details, checking the schedule, were distractors. They kept her mind in the present, kept it from wandering back to images of a sleeping man.

‘Miss, you need to board if you’re coming. It’s time,’ the coachman said, roughly, irritated at the delay. He and the horses were eager to be off. She took one last look down the road. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t coming back. She was merely going for a visit to see May and Beatrice. Little Westbury would still be here. But he wouldn’t be. When she came back everything would be different.

She climbed in and settled herself on a seat, grateful the coach held only one other passenger. She’d have her privacy. The other man would too. His hat was low and his head was buried in a book. A reader. Good. Perhaps they would have something to talk about if she felt like talking later. She pulled out her own book and tried to busy her mind and forget her heart was breaking. Dimitri would be hurt when he woke. But he would understand, she took comfort in that. The carriage lurched into action. There was no going back now.

* * *

Five miles down the road, after a lengthy silence that bordered on odd—what sort of stranger offered nothing, not even a greeting—the stranger in the corner lifted his head and fixed her with blue eyes. ‘Hello, Evie. Seems we have a coach to Scotland to share. Four days on the road ought to be time to get reacquainted.’

Andrew. Her heart began to race. She didn’t want to be alone with him. Not after last night.

‘I hear Scotland’s great for exiles.’ He smiled coldly. ‘That gives us something in common. The Prince has ruined us both. That’s something else in common. Peas in pod, we are.’

‘I’m nothing like you.’

‘Oh, you are, you just don’t want to admit it. The Prince has shafted us, one of us more literally than the other, I am guessing. But he’s forced us both to flee our homes.’

She would not dignify that with a response. She was not going to tell Andrew all Dimitri had offered to give up for her just to prove him wrong. Evie turned her attention to her book, trying to treat Andrew as she would any prying stranger. How had she ever thought him attractive? Costume jewellery indeed. But it was hard to ignore Andrew. He was no longer just annoying, he was potentially dangerous. On two occasions he had threatened her with physical harm. This man was not her friend, perhaps not even her ex-friend. The realisation made the coach that much smaller. She glanced out the window, considering her options.

‘Do you think he’ll come after you? He doesn’t know I’m on this coach too.’ He made a general gesture with his hand. ‘This is all very serendipitous, you and I together. He has no reason to believe you’re in any danger or in need of rescue. Can you imagine how this might look to him? You and I running away to Scotland, land of the quick marriage, together right after you’ve left his bed. Perhaps I can explain to him how you gave me the drawings and then how I used the drawings to market the artefacts to buyers. He’ll think we were in it together all along.’ Andrew made a pouting face. ‘I don’t think that will go over well at all, considering he was most willing to take a bullet for you last night. Of course, how much this betrayal hurts, depends on whether or not he loved you.’ He paused. ‘Oh, I see. You think he
does
love you.

‘How quaint. The mighty prince in love with the country girl.’ He sighed. ‘He doesn’t love you, Evie. He is going to marry Ayfer Hanimsultan, a princess of sorts in his part of the world. It’s all been planned for years. I tried to warn you. He’s the real villain here. He misled you entirely.’ She was not going to cry. Of course he was going to marry Ayfer Hanimsultan. She’d given him permission when she’d left. It was what had to be done. She just wished it didn’t hurt so much.

To her horror, Andrew pulled out a small knife and began to do his nails. ‘I have to go armed now, Evie. The Prince has the made the world more dangerous for me.’

‘You shouldn’t have stolen his artefacts.’

He gave her a leer of a look. ‘I might steal more than his artefacts before this trip is over. It seems you never did give my kisses a fair try and I never did give you a fair try. Apparently, you have charms I’ve been unaware of.’ Andrew licked his lips. ‘Let’s play a game. It’s called obedience. My last mistress liked it quite a bit.’

Evie’s skin began to crawl, her pulse accelerated with fear. She could not let herself be afraid. She had to be more like Dimitri. Last night, he’d been decisive. Andrew was counting on fear to work in his favour. ‘Here’s the rules. I tell you to do something. You can choose to do it, or you can choose to be punished for refusing. My mistress liked spanking. Maybe there’s a foreign trick or two you can show me, something Dimitri liked.’

Andrew’s hatred of Dimitri was fully unmasked now. He’d never been Dimitri’s friend, just one of many who tried to use him for their own gain. It was the key she needed to unlock her own strength. This game would not conquer her. Evie sat up a little straighter and looked Andrew in the eye. ‘I will never like anything associated with you. I was wrong to have ascribed certain values to you for as long as I did.’ She made a point of returning to her book.

Bravado had been a mistake. In a lightning move, Andrew slid onto the seat next to her, knife at her throat, his hand in her hair, yanking her head up so that she cried out. ‘That is
not
how the game works, Evie,’ he growled.

He released her and she rubbed at her neck, panic becoming real. ‘Now, let’s try again, Evie. I’ll show you some mercy. We’ll start easy. Take down your hair.’

She had no choice. She was trapped in a moving box with a mad man. She was going to have to play. But she didn’t have to lose. It occurred to her that losing wasn’t defined by merely doing what Andrew asked, but rather by giving in to fear. Andrew wanted her in tears, wanted her to beg, as revenge on Dimitri and perhaps revenge on her. She would not give him either. She could do this. Taking down her hair was nothing. It was only embarrassing if she let it be. She would wait for her moment and when it came, she would seize it with both hands. With a fierce stare, she took her hair down, pin by pin.

* * *

Dimitri stared, dumbfounded at the note. He didn’t think Evie was the type to go back on her word. He’d read it and re-read it. She’d left? Because she loved him? That made no sense. He rubbed his hands over his stubbly jaw. He’d woken and found her gone. The bed was cold. It had been a while. She’d left and he’d missed it.

With fumbling fingers, he unwrapped the package, more out of reflex than curiosity. His mind was going through ordinary routines while it tried to assimilate what had just happened. Inside lay an exquisite piece of needlework depicting Kuban the way he’d described it to her: the river, the mountains, the shining palaces with their domes. He ran a finger over the threads. He understood the note better now. She was telling him to go to Kuban and fulfil his destiny because she loved him, because she would not take his life away from him.

That was unacceptable. She didn’t want to leave him. She only felt she had to. Everything last night made sense, the hint of sadness in her eyes, the desperation with which she’d made love. She’d known she was saying farewell. He had saved her life and now she thought she was saving his.

Dimitri dressed hurriedly. He would go to her parents’ house and convince her, convince them, he didn’t need saving. Somehow. He’d given her all his best arguments. He’d make them all again if need be. He’d show her the deed. He’d kiss her. He would think of something. He saddled one of the horses he travelled with, a shiny, fast black stallion, and ran through the options all the way to her house, only to learn she wasn’t there. She’d left for Scotland to visit her girlfriends.

The stallion was hot beneath him, wanting to run in the fine morning. Dimitri gauged the time. The coach couldn’t be more than an hour or two ahead of him, on a fast horse, even less. He wheeled the horse around and gave him his head. There was only one road north. He would find her and he would bring her back.