The Ice Princess (3 page)

"You know why," she said low. He'd never heard her sound so serious before. Gone was the whore who'd drawled ribald comments t o him just hours

before. "You gambled your own money and saved me. Thank you."

Isaac sighed. "I'm sorry to shatter your il usions of me as a bol ocks-less white knight."

Her head reared back and her green eyes narrowed behind her mask.

"What do you mean?"

He smiled and took her hand, bending over her white knuckles as he murmured, "Only that I ful y intend to enjoy my prize."

As the wind whistled through the Ice Princess's snowy halls it made a kind of
music, high and sweet and strange. The Ice Princess herself seemed to

sing as
well, although her frozen lips never moved and her song had no words.
Nevertheless, the eerie melody was carried on the north winds far and

wide.
Her wordless song told of longing and grief and a passion so deep it could
never be fulfilled. . . .

—from
The Ice Princess

Coral stared at Captain Wargate for a moment, her eyes wide behind her golden mask. It had never occurred t o her that the puritanical captain would

demand his prize. But wasn't he a man like any other?

And al men were base fools when one came right down to it. She straightened her shoulders. The curl of her upper lip was hidden by the mask, but her

voice dripped with scorn when she said, "Of course, Captain. I wouldn't dare to deprive you of anything you'd rightful y won."

If her distain perturbed him, he made no sign. His black hawk eyes were scanning the room as if her presence hardly mattered to him.

"Your graciousness overwhelms me, madam. Ah, Hyde." This last was addressed to Jimmy who'd come strutting back into the salon with the sack

Wargate had requested for his coins. Jimmy waved it in front of Wargate like a flag before a bul . "Here you are, Captain! I hope it's large enough for your

winnings. Of course it doesn't fit the most delectable prize." He leered at Coral.

She stared back stonily, long since inured to Jimmy and his crass ways.

"Now, then wil you be wanting guards to walk home with you?" Jimmy asked with mock sympathy. "It's dangerous hereabouts for a lone man with bulging

pockets, but I think we can lend you a couple of our boys, say at a half crown each?"

"No need," Wargate snapped.

Jimmy made a fussy little moue. "I know you're a big, strong man, Captain, but remember pride goeth before a fal . Why walk alone when—"

"There's no need," Wargate interrupted Jimmy's prattle, "because I have no intention of walking back tonight. I'l claim my first night tonight."

Jimmy's eyes widened even as Coral felt her heartbeat quicken.
Tonight?
She'd have no time to prepare. No time to—

"Eager to taste the delights of our Aphrodite, are you?" Jimmy giggled.

"I can't blame you. By al means, enjoy the spoils of victory, in fact—" But Coral lost the last part of Jimmy's snide comments because Wargate had caught

her wrist and pul ed her out of the salon. He started for the stairs. His legs were long and his stride fast, so she was forced to jog alongside him, panting,

her breasts jiggling ungraceful y.

"I'm not a dog on a leash, Captain!" she hissed. He stopped so abruptly she cannoned into his side, her breasts smashed against his arm, one hand

braced against his broad shoulders. She caught her breath, looking up into his stern black eyes. His eyebrows were lowered disapprovingly. If he had any

awareness of her bosom pressed against him, he didn't show it.

"Would you prefer to stay and listen to the drivel pouring from Hyde's mouth?"

"No, natural y not, but—“

"Then point me to your room."

She pressed her lips together and jerked her chin at the stairs. He mounted them two at a time until she nearly tripped. Then he muttered something under

his breath and slowed his pace. Coral tugged, but he still held her wrist firmly and she suddenly realized that she would be having sexual congress with

this man very soon. Possibly within minutes.

Her mouth went dry, her heart beating nearly out of her chest. It'd been years now since she'd let a man touch her. To feel the sense of helplessness, to be

overpowered by another stronger than herself, to have to wal off that part of her spirit that rebelled against such servitude. Could she do it? But of course

she must. She'd done it before. One more disgusting act hardly mattered, did it?

She snuck a glance at Wargate's grim face. And what if the act wasn't quite so disgusting? Could she stil keep her soul intact?

Wargate halted at the top of the stairs, turning to her with a raised eyebrow.

Coral inhaled and pointed to the third door down the hal . "That one." He strode to it without comment and threw open the door.

Inside was a simple room furnished with a bed, chair, and smal lit fire. The captain frowned. "This isn't your room."

Wel , of course it wasn't. No one but her maid was al owed in her rooms. Coral compressed her lips and indicated a room at the very end of the hal .

Wargate was there in a few seconds, Coral panting beside him. This time he threw open the door to a much more sumptuous room. The bed was draped

in crimson velvet, the rug thick and luxurious, and a table and two chairs sat before the fire. Coral gave a smal satisfied smile. The Red Room was one of

her best. Surely he'd be satisfied with it.

Except his scowl was thunderous when he turned to her this time.

"Quit playing with me, madam. I want
your
rooms, not a whore's set stage."

Coral stiffened, feeling an edge of panic. Her rooms were private. They were her refuge.

"I
am
a whore," she snapped. "You wouldn’t be bedding me otherwise, Captain."

He simply looked at her.

"What do you care whose rooms these are?" she waved at the red velvet opulence in frustration. "Believe me, you shan't be looking at the room when

you're with me."

His sharp eyes narrowed. "I want your rooms. And before you try and tel me these
are
your rooms, let me point out that rich as the furniture is, there isn't a

single personal item within it."

She tugged again at her wrist and had as much luck pul ing it from his grasp as she’d had before. She settled for propping her free hand on her hip.

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're obstinate," he countered. "Do you want me to find Hyde and tel him you've reneged on the deal?"

No, she didn't. Coral turned with il grace and led him around the corner, down another corridor, and final y to a hidden door in the wal .

"Watch your head," she muttered as she ducked inside the dark passage behind the little door.

She heard a thud and a grunt as her warning came too late and his head connected to with the low lintel. Ha! She couldn't help but smile. This man never

failed to discompose her. With everyone else--even the most disgusting animals such a s Hyde--she was cool. Composed and dismissive. Only with

Wargate did her blood run too hot, her composure crumple like ashes.

He was her own personal Armageddon.

The narrow little hal dead-ended with a door which was locked. Coral fished under her skirts until she found the key hanging from a ribbon at her waist.

She unlocked the door and entered, not bothering to see if Captain Wargate fol owed.

Mol y, her maidservant straightened in surprise from the little fire in the grate.

"Ma'am?" Her eyes widened and flicked to look behind Coral. Coral felt heat rise in her cheeks behind her mask. She'd never brought a man here before.

"That'l be al , Mol y."

Mol y curtsied, stil looking curious, and left the room by a door on the far wal . It led to a back stairway that opened eventually into the kitchens and from

there to a back door to Aphrodite's Grotto. Coral turned as the door clicked shut behind her maid and looked at Captain Wargate. He'd moved away from

the door they'd entered and was inspecting the objects on her dresser. She grit her teeth, feeling a sense

of

imposition.

These

were

her
private
rooms,

her
private
possessions.

The bed was comfortable, but by no means large, the hangings a soft, faded green stripe. By the fire was a small, square table and a single chair. She

used the spot both t o take he r meals a nd t o look over the Grotto's accounting books. A dark wood wardrobe held the extravagant costumes that

Aphrodite wore, but at the moment a simple robe hung on the outside of the wardrobe--a gown she habitual y wore whilst in her own rooms. It was a lovely

emerald green velvet, but the lace at the sleeve had been mended and the elbows were beginning to go bald from wear. The dresser Captain Wargate

inspected held a simple white china pitcher and washing bowl, her hairbrush, a folding mirror, a pile of hairpins in a glass dish, and a miniature portrait of

a worn-looking woman.

Coral inhaled.
He had no right.
But she knew how to distract him from his examination of her possessions.

"Shal we begin, Captain?" She drawled, her fingers going to the laces of her gown. She slowly drew them apart as she spoke. "Have you a particular

fancy tonight? Perhaps you'd like my mouth and tongue on your cock? Or would you prefer to bind me to the bed for your pleasure? You may sit and I'l ride

you until we both succumb. Or you may mount me from behind like a great, randy beast. What wil you, sir?"

The captain had turned during her provocative speech, but his eyes were impassive as he watched her undo the last lace. Her bodice fel open, revealing

the embroidered stays underneath. She had only to unpluck the ribbon through the first few holes and then her stays gaped as wel , making her breasts

entirely naked. They were white and round and she knew without vanity that they were the stuff of a man's fantasy, but Captain Wargate studied her bared

bosom without a change of expression.

Final y his eyes met hers. "Wil you take off your mask?" She stiffened and blurted her reply before she could think. "No." For a moment panic fluttered in

her breast as she waited for him to demand that she remove the mask.

But he merely sighed.

"Very wel . Then, yes, there is something I'd like you to do for me." He went to the fireplace and sat in the only chair, his legs braced apart.

"Come here."

She exhaled in relief. This she could handle. She tilted her chin and strol ed toward him, every bit of al the sexual seduction she'd ever learned in her life in

her step.

She stopped between his spread thighs and paused, trailing a single gold-lacquered nail from her throat down between her bared breasts.

"Yes?"

"Turn around."

Coral caught her breath and pivoted.

"Bend over."

Her upper lip curled beneath her mask. Was it spanking he liked, then?

Oh, how easily the proud fel !

"Now straddle my leg."

She frowned in confusion at that command, but obeyed.

"And grasp my boot."

Her eyebrows knitted. She looked at him over her shoulder. His face was nearly upside down in this position, but she could've sworn she saw his mouth

quirk. "What?"

"Help me off with my boots," he said patiently, as if to a child.

"Your
boots
—"

"My boots." And he had the temerity to put his free boot on her bottom. "Pul ."

Boorish, aggravating,
confusing
man! Coral sucked in a breath, grimly bent and grasped the boot, and yanked.

It didn't budge.

"A little harder," the impossible wrench said helpful y from behind her, pressing her bottom with his foot.

Men had paid fortunes to have her merely sit by their side so that they might be envied by other men—and
he
was making her pul off his filthy boots!

Coral gritted her teeth and pul ed with al her might. The boot came off, nearly sending her tumbling on her nose.

"Wel done," Wargate drawled. "Now the other." Coral threw down the boot in disgust and bent again, aware her position was comical, i f not downright

ungainly. Her breasts hung down, her bottom was presented to him, and he'd once again placed a foot on it. The second boot came off more easily than

the first. She straightened and turned, stil holding the wretched boot, and tried to regain some of her former aplomb.

"What wil you have me do now?"

He raised his eyebrows as if surprised. "Why, nothing. I'm quite comfortable. I'l bid you goodnight, madam."

And then Captain Wargate folded his arms, stretched out his legs, and before her disbelieving eyes did the most insulting thing possible. He fel asleep.

Whenever a flesh and blood man heard the Ice Princess's song he was as if
transfixed. So desperate was his need to console the woman who sang to

him,
he forgot his family, his country, his very self, and would turn and journey
toward the singing. When at last he reached the Ice Princess o n her

lonely
throne, she would lean far down and kiss him on the mouth. . . .

--from
The Ice Princess

Isaac woke in the morning to the sound of the maid clattering at the grate. He yawned and stretched, wincing at a twinge in his neck from having slept in

the chair. Aphrodite was gone, her bedcovers thrown back, the endearingly worn green velvet robe tossed at the foot of the bed. He'd hope to break his

fast with her, but was unsurprised to be disappointed. The lady was a cat--he'd invaded her inner sanctum and no doubt that made her nervous.

He'd have to wait for nightfal .

"Wil ye be wantin' coffee, sir?" the maid asked gruffly.