A Royal Proposition: The Royal House of Atharia, Book 2 Read online

"I was only trying to make amends between us. I do not want to be enemies with you, but you certainly make it very hard not to be so."

  He scoffed, watching the crowd. Alessa felt like stomping her foot like a child that he would not look at her.

  "We are not enemies. We are nothing at all."

  She left him and walked from the room, needing air. She spotted a door left ajar and strode straight for it, making the darkened servants’ passage just as her guard caught up to her. He clasped her arm, stopping her from going too far along the darkened gallery.

  "You need to return to the ball," he demanded, his voice dark and as dangerous as she had ever heard it.

  "I need a moment away from you. I apologize for being rude yet again, but you were utterly obnoxious when I was trying to be nice. I think you ought to leave me be for a time."

  He stepped closer to her than he ought. Annoyance and obstinance ran through her like water, and she refused to step aside and let him think he had power over her. She was the princess here. She had the power to determine her own life, not him. Alessa moved her attention from his shirt and loosely tied cravat over his cutting jaw and displeased line of his lips to meet his eyes. "The door back to the ballroom is that way," she pointed, making her demand known.

  * * *

  Rowan could do it now. In his mind, he played over the scene of removing her from the earth forever. Of taking her innocent life, and all for the blunt he was promised. Enough to remove him from poverty, to never have to starve or fight for survival. To be safe from those who wished to harm him, and those who had already harmed him in his life.

  He stared down at Princess Alessa. Her captivating features arrested him more than they ought. He reached out, cringing as his hands touched her soft cheeks, slipping about her neck. She would think he was going to kiss her, but he was not.

  One flick of his wrists, and she'd be dead and without a sound to alert those close by.

  Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths from her flight from the ballroom or from his touch, he did not know. He did not want to know either, he told himself, and yet, instead of snapping her small neck as he should, he found himself slipping his fingers into her hair, drawing her closer. "I'm not going anywhere, Princess," he heard himself say, his tone soft and cajoling.

  What was he doing? He was hired to kill the woman in his arms, not seduce her.

  Defiant as usual, stronger than he'd ever thought her to be, she raised her chin, pinning him with a cold glare. "Are you not? What do you think you're about to do, Mr. Oakley, with my person? Kiss me, seduce me? Make me forget that you're an ass and that I'm annoyed at you?" she taunted him.

  He growled at her words, the wrong ones to say right at that moment. He wrenched her closer. Her breasts bounced into his chest, her gasp a whisper against his lips. "You think I could not seduce you to my will, Your Highness?"

  He heard her swallow, her eyes wide with alarm, but still the defiant minx he was beginning to appreciate bit back at him. "You're no gentleman. Why would I think you would start acting like one now?"

  His lips quirked. "Why indeed."

  Chapter 4

  What was she doing? He was no gentleman at all. She could not kiss her guard, a man no more than a servant in her home. She could not kiss him here in the dark, secluded passageway at a London ball. Not anywhere. The man was a menace, a rude, bossy ass whom she did not like.

  And yet, she did not move or step out of his reach as his head dipped toward hers. Her stomach clenched, delicious warmth pooled between her thighs, and Alessa found herself clasping the lapels of his coat, holding him close instead of pushing him away.

  Had she gone mad!

  Utterly insane if she were honest with herself. No, her mind screamed, but her body had other ideas about removing herself from this predicament. It purred and leaned against him, enjoyed the roughness of his coat against her silk gown. Her nipples beaded, her breasts ached for his touch.

  And she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to feel the touch of a man like she had longed to for so long now.

  He dipped his head farther, his lips brushing hers with a softness that made her toes curl in her silk slippers. She had expected him to be hard and rough, demanding and coarse, as he was in the flesh, and yet, his kiss was nothing of the sort.

  His lips settled over hers, coaxing her to kiss him back. She needed no urging. She had dreamed about kisses for so long that even if her first was with her guard, she would not run from it, but toward it with open arms.

  Alessa opened for him, giving him what he urged from her, and the axis of her world tilted. She gasped at the intimacy of their embrace, the smooth, silky glide of his tongue against hers. His hand as it tightened about her hair, the soft growl that hummed from deep in his chest.

  She felt all at sea but glorified in every moment of the kiss. His arm enfolded her, holding her close. She smelled the citrus scent of his cologne, the hardened muscles of his chest, the frantic beat of his heart.

  Alessa reached up, standing on tiptoe, and wrapped her arms about his neck, following his lead with the kiss and giving him what he wanted. Her surrender.

  The embrace was wonderful, liberating, and she craved more. So much more. She wanted to kiss and be kissed in just this manner until she took her last breath.

  How wonderful it was, all new and exciting.

  His mouth melted on hers, deep and hard, leaving her breathless. Alessa found herself moving before her back came up against a wall. He strained against her, his chest teasing hers, and she gasped, having not expected her body to burn for his touch, his commands to do as he bade her.

  Her nerves sizzled, her breath hitched, her body ached.

  Alessa moved against him, seeking him in a way she had never sought anyone before in her life. How could she react in such a way and all from a kiss? But what a kiss it was.

  His hand skimmed her waist, her back, to clasp the globe of her bottom. She moaned when he kneaded her flesh there, drawing her against him. Alessa knew enough about the male form that she understood what she felt straining against her stomach.

  Had she made him so?

  He ground against her abdomen, his manhood tempting her in a way she had not thought possible only a half hour before.

  The sound of laughter broke through her haze of seduction, and Mr. Oakley wrenched away, stumbling almost in his haste to remove himself from her.

  He gazed down at her, dazed, his eyes wide with shock. Alessa did not say a word, unsure what either of them could say right at this moment. They had simply kissed if a kiss could be termed with such platitude, but she knew it could not be.

  Best to say nothing at all, she decided, watching and taking her cues from him. She had never been in such a situation before. Surely Mr. Oakley had been and would know what to say and do.

  Would he kiss her again? Or was he debating tugging her back to the ball and depositing her there, away from him and out of his reach?

  "Return to the ball, Your Highness," he said, his tone cold and lacking the emotion that his kiss had sparked within her soul.

  Alessa tipped up her nose and strode away, determined not to let him know or ever see that his easy dismissal of her and what they had just shared hurt her heart.

  The kiss she experienced with her guard was the first-ever in her life. He could at least have pretended to like her a little after the fact.

  But he was an ass, after all.

  * * *

  Rowan fisted his hands at his sides and did not watch as Alessa strode away from him as if she cared not a hoot for the kiss they just shared. Not that he gave her much inclination to feel anything but loathing for him, but still, he would have thought she would have had some kind of reaction to his touch.

  For by God, he had felt as though his world had changed the moment his lips touched hers. If he had his way, he would have taken more liberties, kissed her into submission, and wherever that led them. Had the ball not impinged on their interlude, she would sti
ll be in his arms and at his mercy.

  He stared down the dark passage, unsure how it was that he had kissed her instead of taking the opportunity afforded him to do what he was being paid to do.

  Kill her.

  Alone, here in this part of the house that seemed unused this evening, it would have been easy to snap her sweet, innocent neck, but he could not bring himself to do it. She had looked up at him with such need, such innocence, that all thoughts of hurting her fled his mind.

  A deep, menacing chuckle sounded somewhere along the darkened hallway before a dot of red light appeared. A man lit a cheroot, coming into view before leaning against the wall with an unhurried air.

  "Well, well, well, how very surprising to see you so well-acquainted with Princess Alessa. I did not think seducing the woman was a requirement for the job that you have been hired to complete."

  Rowan faced down Fred, one of the many underhanded criminals who worked for Roberto Delenzo, who hired him. If the fellow thought to intimidate Rowan, he was mistaken, being several inches shorter than himself. "Isn't a chap not allowed to sample the goods before they're discarded? Nothing wrong with me seducing the wanton princess if she is willing. It will enable me to gain closer access to her than I have had previously. I may even be able to get her alone a time or two, out of Marco's ever-vigilant gaze."

  The man's beady eyes narrowed as he thought over his words. Rowan hoped he bought his ploy, for the last thing he needed was Fred or anyone else disbelieving his words and seeing him as another who needed to be eliminated from this world.

  How are you going to kill her now that you've tasted her sweetness?

  That, Rowan did not know, and now was not the time to debate his moral code. If only there were another way out of the poverty nightmare he'd lived in all his life. He had done a lot already to remove himself from it, too many killings, thievery, and brute force upon targets, but there was always more he could do to secure his future. Legal jobs that did not involve any of those harsh treatments.

  But to kill a woman for blunt?

  That kind of job was new, even for him. Rowan inwardly cringed, not so sure he could finish the job he was hired to do. To date, no one had ever cared for him in his past. Not when he was a child or now as a man. He was nothing to all these toffs, royals, and even the underhanded criminals such as the one standing before him.

  But to kill the princess when she had done nothing to deserve such an end? When it was not her fault he'd been born into such a shitty life?

  "Is that all this is? A bit of fun under her skirts before we're rid of her?"

  Rowan started back toward the ballroom, wanting to remove himself from the conversation, and before he gave himself away that it wasn't just a dose of fun.

  "I loathe the woman and her kind. I will do what you have asked me. Do not spy on me again, or you may find yourself at the end of my gun barrel."

  The man chuckled, sucking once again on the cheroot before throwing it in Rowan's direction. "Be sure to complete the job you're to be paid for. Have your fun if that is what you want, but do not cross us, or you'll find yourself at the end of my barrel when you least expect it."

  The man slinked into the darkness. Not a sound came from his footsteps, and a shiver of unease slithered down his spine. He knew when he'd accepted the job that he was walking into a lion's den—playing into the hand of the ruthless cutthroats like himself. But the blunt promised had been too large a sum to give up.

  The image of Princess Alessa floated through his mind, and he ran a hand over his jaw. He had not expected the woman to be so beautiful, and there was something about her warmth when talking to others that he had not seen when around the ton before.

  A niggle of doubt settled in his mind that she was different. That had he known she was not the daughter of a tyrannical regime in Atharia he would not have taken the order. He'd been lied to, he was sure of it.

  He strode back into the ballroom and spied Marco, watching their charge, who danced about the ballroom floor, her smile warming a dark, cold place in his chest that had never felt anything.

  What was it about this woman that he savored? Why did he care? Why had he kissed her?

  He came and stood beside Marco, watching her like so many others in the room did.

  "The passageway clear?" Marco asked him, his accent thicker than that of Alessa's.

  "Yes, nothing but servants going about their chores." They watched as Alessa moved on to her next dance partner. "There is a rumor the Queen of Atharia is not the correct heir for the homeland. What do you know of the family and what happened last year?" Rowan asked, needing to know.

  Marco did not look at him, nor did he miss the grimace that twitched over his features. Marco told him of Princess Holly's flee back to her homeland after being ambushed in England. Of her hiding at Duke Sotherton's estate and her growing bond with the Marquess Balhannah, now king consort. Of how Princess Alessa was forced to flee her royal home after the mistreatment of her uncle. Her fear for her sister, who had been left behind.

  The uncle sounded like a crazed man who did not know how the line of succession worked in Atharia. Women could inherit and rule there. The man had no basis for his claim. And the men here in England who still carried the torch of revenge for their downfall, their failed coup, had no basis to kill Alessa.

  He had signed a deal with the devil, and now that devil wanted to be paid.

  The princess caught his eye, and like a punch to his gut, he felt the full force of her inspection of him over her dance partner's shoulder. He looked away, not wanting to admit he had made a mistake. That no amount of money was worth the death of a woman wholly innocent.

  However was he going to step away from this predicament?

  Chapter 5

  Alessa was in serious trouble. Since the past week after her devastating kiss with her English guard, she had not been able to stop thinking of him. Of his lips against hers, his touch as he held her gently in his arms before the seduction of the embrace made them lose their heads.

  Certainly, she must have lost her mind even allowing such liberties. What would her sisters think?

  Alessa clasped her stomach as it fluttered at the thought of the kiss. Her cheeks still stinging with emotion. And yet, Mr. Oakley, Rowan as she thought of him now, had continued on with his employment as her guard, cold and aloof as ever, keeping watch of her at balls and parties and not attempting to kiss her again. It was enough to drive her insane.

  Did he not think about this kiss as she did? Did he not want to do it again?

  She nibbled on her fingernail, staring out the windows of the downstairs morning room. Her guards were about, Marco stood just outside the door to give her a little privacy while she took some time for herself in solitude, but all her attention was on the man who strolled past the windows every few minutes.

  Her sisters would tell her to stop being absurd. That there was no chance she could look at such a man for a husband. Her sister had married a lord, a future duke. She would not be allowed to marry a man with no title or money to his name.

  Her life did not work that way, no matter how much she may wish it did.

  Aunt Rosemary bustled into the room, a footman only a few steps behind carrying a tray of biscuits and a fresh pot of tea.

  "Your Highness, good morning. I thought we would go over the invitations that have arrived this morning and take tea together."

  Alessa was pleased with the distraction. She needed all the distraction she could get if she were to get over her infatuation with her guard.

  "That would be lovely," she said, smiling. "And please, do call me Alessa when we're alone. The honorifics are not needed here. I know well enough who I am."

  Her ladyship chuckled, pouring two cups of tea and tipping a small droplet of milk in hers just as she liked it. "Old habits die hard, Alessa, but I shall try to remember to do as you asked."

  "Thank you." She sipped her tea, sighing at the refreshing blend before leaning back
in her chair, her gaze slipping to the windows as Rowan walked past once again.

  "You have several invitations that I think you ought to consider—one of them a night opera at Covent Gardens, which I think will be entertaining. I had a similar event when I had my coming out, many years ago now," the older woman said with a chuckle. "My mother, God rest her soul, would tell you it was the night she lost me in the park and thought I was lost forever to scandal."

  "And were you?" Alessa asked, leaning forward, having never heard Aunt Rosemary say much about her life, since she was a spinster.

  "No, thankfully, I had merely run into a friend, and we started talking, and my party had moved on. When they did not see me with them, they panicked."

  Alessa chuckled. "Forgive me for asking, but you never remarried after your husband passed away, which, if I'm not mistaken, was quite young. Did no gentleman ever catch your eye a second time, or was marriage not an occupation you enjoyed?"

  Aunt Rosemary stared off into space, her mind clearly lost in the past. "I was asked again, but he was nothing like my first husband, and I grew nervous about the whole thing. He was not of the ton and certainly not rich enough. My sister married a duke, you see, and I knew my family, no matter how many marriages I had, expected a certain social standing."

  Alessa could understand wholeheartedly what Aunt Rosemary was saying. "I feel that way too sometimes. My sister married a future duke, even if the family would have preferred a prince," she said, catching Aunt Rosemary's eye. "Not that we do not love Drew, for we do, but he was not whom a queen ought to consider as king consort. Not from a social standing point of view in any case."

  "How lucky Holly and Drew are that their union is a love match," Aunt Rosemary stated, a wistful smile on her face.

  Alessa knew better than anyone just how much her sister adored her husband. They were the perfect match, and she wanted the same. "I had hoped that by Holly marrying a duke, I would have a little freedom of choice as well, but I'm surrounded by dukes and earls, vain viscounts, and boring barons. None of them spark an ounce of interest. I fear I shall return to Atharia and be married off and sent to live on the continent with a foreign prince."