Page 5 of His Perfect Princess

There was a position I was very interested in her filling.

She hesitated briefly, glancing at her father. I don’t know what she saw, but it caused her to flick those lovely violet eyes up to mine, just briefly. I smiled, and loved the blush that climbed up her perfect skin.

When she took my offered arm, I felt a bolt of pure lust. I stared down at the top of her head as we headed back towards the street.

She was going to be mine. Today.

Clarissa

My heart was racing, and not just from the speed at which Prince Rickard was taking the turns as we wound our way up the switchbacks towards the castle. Is that where we were having luncheon? I wanted to ask, but couldn’t seem to make my voice work around him.

He was just so…perfect. Tall—taller than my father!—with perfectly styled blonde hair and light blue eyes which could make a girl imagine all sorts of things. One glance from him, and she might read all sorts of erotic promises that would keep her awake for days at a time.

And I should know.

Last summer he’d glanced at me like that, and I hadn’t been able to get his unspoken promises out of my head. Just the thought of him made my heart beat faster; the times we’d met since then, when he looked at me with that perfectly imperious gaze of his, it made me…well, all tingly inside.

In all of our interactions, he’d always been so solicitous, so polite…but under it all, I could sense a smoldering power I very much wanted him to let loose. I wanted to be the one he let loose on. This desire to be dominated—not by anyone, but just him—had surprised me at first, but had become a major part of my fantasies for the last year. Every time I’d seen him, I’d become more aroused, and now—now!—I was here with him.

Parts of me were getting hot. Every time I shifted on the comfortable seats of his carriage, my bloomers pressed against my core, seeming to inflame it further. My thighs ached from how tightly I clenched them, and I knew I was already wet.

Of course, if I’d known I’d be going to dine with the crown prince, I would’ve worn something entirely different. Maybe a true gown, not this shirtwaist and skirt with matching belt. Something low-cut. Scandalously low, skating across my nipples. Something to make him notice me.

Apparently he had noticed me, but since holding the carriage door open for me, he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t explained why he wanted to eat with me, or why he hadn’t given me any warning. He’d been focused on driving, which allowed me to glance at him from the corner of my eyes occasionally.

Oh my Heavens, but he was gorgeous.

And I was sitting beside him, at his invitation. I found myself sitting straighter, wondering if passersby were watching, asking themselves who was this unknown chit who’d captured the attention of their crown prince?

I vowed to remember every detail of this meal—of this experience!—so I could write it down and share it with my best friend back in London. I missed her, but when Papa had been given the ambassador post to Faencairn, of course I needed to go with him, to act as his hostess.

My year here had been little different from how I’d always imagined my life; managing a household, polite diplomacy, and passing tiny tea sandwiches on immaculate trays as important men spoke about important things.

Meeting Crown Prince Rickard, surely the most handsome man I’d ever met, had been the only bump in the smooth path of my life… Since he’d raked me with that cool, light blue gaze of his, I hadn’t been the same.

I wanted to be helpful, to be good and dutiful. I’d always assumed I would fill that role in Papa’s household until he arranged a marriage for me.

But today’s outing…I would have never presumed to guess something this exciting could happen to me!

When he pulled to a stop in front of the palace—Oh heavens, the actual royal palace!—I didn’t even have time to slow my breathing before he was there, handing me out of the carriage.

Servants were running towards us but he didn’t slow, just escorted me up the grand staircase up to the main entrance.

In a daze, I wondered if this was how he always entered and exited, or if there were other doors the family used more often. But before I could ask, he was escorting me through the grand foyer, towards the dual sweeping staircases that rose to the upper floors.

I’d taken the official tour of the palace last year when I’d arrived in Faencairn, and like every visitor, had marveled at the throne room and the banquet hall with seating for ninety-six. When we breezed past that corridor, I assumed we were heading for a more intimate dining room…perhaps with seating for only twenty.

Where would a prince take someone like me for a private luncheon? Or had I been presuming when I’d guessed it would private? Perhaps others were joining us.

My heart began to pound in my chest, the uncertainty making my cheeks warm.

As we climbed the stairs, I began to wonder if we were going to eat, after all. He’d said luncheon, but I remembered the guide saying this was the way to the royal bedchambers.

Bedchambers? Is that why he’d invited me?

I was half terrified, half excited, by the prospect.

Wherever he was taking me, I knew I would follow unquestioningly and trust him to take care of me.

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