The Lady in the Tower (12 page)

Hands already
held out, he stepped around a settee and went straight to the welcome blaze.
Instantly, he soaked in blessed warmth, his hands aching as feeling returned.
Sighing with relief, he shrugged out of his coat, the shoulders damp from
melted snow, and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair.

He’s just
turned back to the fire when the unmistakable sound of a woman’s sigh fluttered
through the air. He froze and slowly turned. The settee’s high back had hidden
the cushions from him so that he’d missed the fact that he was far from alone.
A woman, dressed in the plain black of a servant, was curled upon her side, her
hands tucked under her cheek like a child, was sound asleep upon the settee.

Her skin was
pale while her hair was as black as the night. Thick and shining, it was pinned
away from her face in the same severe, unstylish bun most servants wore.
Ah,
a new housemaid. You thought the heavy snow would keep guests away so you could
take a nap,
hm
?

He didn’t
blame her; the quiet fall of snow muffled all noise while the low light and
crackle of the fire made a nap the most natural thing in the world. Smiling, he
came to stand beside her, the light from the fire casting reddish lights over
her.

Though not
beautiful in the accepted sense, she was a taking thing. Her face was slender
and angular, with thick lashes splayed over high cheekbones. Her mouth was
wide, her lips soft and full, but set over a stubborn chin that warred with the
delicate line of her nose. Even more fascinating were her eyebrows, which flew
up at the ends in a delicate sweep, giving her face a piquant look.

Kintore
couldn’t
remember being so intrigued by a woman in a long, long time. Perhaps this
snowstorm had been a good omen after all. He reached down and ran a finger over
her cheek.

Her lashes
fluttered and then, with a soft sigh, she turned her face toward his hand, her
skin deliciously warm against his fingers, her breath teasing his palm. It was
such a sensual gesture that he was caught by the desire to kiss her awake.

He slipped his
hand from her face and carefully sat on the edge of the settee at her side.
Then, he bent and touched his lips to hers…

BUY NOW

******

Somewhere in
the forest outside of the Duchess of
Roxburghe’s
famed castle, Lily Balfour has been thrown from her horse and has injured her
ankle. To her relief and chagrin, she’s rescued by a huge Adonis of a man with
a strange accent who, against her protests, insists upon carrying her to
safety.
. .

“Ah, so you
are a guest of the Duchess of
Roxburghe
.”
Wulf
shrugged, his huge shoulder moving against her cheek.
“My grandmother and I met Her Grace last week. She invited us to her house
party. I was not going to attend, for I do not like such formal entertainments,
but now—” His gaze flicked over Lily, leaving a heated path. “Now, I will
go.”

“Oh. I—I
just—“ She took a steadying breath. “Please take me back to my horse. I’m
fine, really, and there’s no need to carry me.”

“You fell and
may have injuries we do not yet know, so I will take you to safety, and then I
will send my men to let the duchess know where you are and that you are
unharmed.”

“Your men?”

“I have a
squadron.”

“Ah, then
you’re a member of the military.” That explained his boldness and
over-assuredness. “What are you? A corporal? A sergeant?”

“I am in
charge.” A faint note of surprise colored his voice as if he were irritated
that she should think anything else. “I am in charge of it all.”

She blinked.
“Of an entire army?”

“Yes.” He sent
her a hard look. “I shall tell you because the duchess would say it anyway. I
am not a general. I am a prince, which is why the duchess finds it acceptable
that my grandmother and I attend her events.”

“You’re a
prince?
”

“I am
Piotr
Romanovin
, Prince
Wulfinski
of
Oxenburg
. My
brothers call me
Wulf
.”

“Brothers? Are
they all princes, too?”

He swept her
with an amused glance. “
Da.
Oxenburg
has four
princes. I am the youngest.”

She couldn’t
wrap her mind around the thought of a room full of men like the one before her
now; huge, broad shouldered, bulging with muscles and lopsided smiles, their
dark hair falling over their brows and into their green eyes…

Suddenly
breathless, she fixed her gaze on his face. “If you’re a prince, then you must
be fabulously wealthy.”

“Not every
prince is wealthy. Sadly, I am the poorest of all my brothers.” Her
disappointment must have shown on her face, for he regarded her with a narrowed
gaze. “You do not like this, Miss Lilly Balfour?”

She sighed.
“No, no I don’t. As sad as it is, some of us must marry for money.” It
ludicrous to admit such a thing to him, but somehow – perhaps it was
because he’d so chivalrously rescued her – it felt right to tell him the
truth.

His brow
lowered. “So you must marry for money?”

“I must.”

He was silent
a moment. Finally, he pinned her with a serious gaze. “But what if you fall in
love with someone who has no money?”

“I have no
choice.” She heard the sadness in her own voice and resolutely forced herself
to shrug. “It’s the way of the world, isn’t it? My family needs funds. Our
house is entailed and my father hasn’t been very good about—Oh, it’s a
very long story and I’m sure you don’t want to hear all of the details.”

She could tell
from his grim expression that he disliked her answer. She didn’t like it,
either, and she realized that it made her sound like the
veriest
money-grubbing society miss, but that’s what she’d become.

She sighed and
rested her cheek against his shoulder.

He looked down
at her and, to her
surprise,
his chin came to rest on
her head. She felt so safe here in his arms.
So very, very
safe.

They continued
on thus for a few moments, an odd comfort seeping through her, the first since
she’d left her home.

At one time, a
wealthy gentleman had seemed enough. Now, she wished she could also ask for a
not-wealthy prince. One
like
this one, who carried her
so gently and whose eyes gleamed with humor beneath the fall of his black hair.

But it was not
to be. For now, though, she had these few moments as he carried her through the
forest, the sunlight dappling his black hair with gold.

Sighing, she
rested her head against his broad shoulder.
This will have to be enough.

BUY NOW
!