Page 84 of The Princess Stakes
“Thinking.” She held up her glass. “Imbibing.”
Rhystan frowned. She was still dressed in the torn, bloodstained gown she’d had on earlier. His frown turned into a scowl. Hadn’t he instructed his valet to tend to her? A soothing bath would have been the least of it. “Harlowe didn’t run you a bath?”
Watching him, she let out a sigh. “Before you strip the hide off your very kind valet, I dismissed him.”
He approached her cautiously. “Are you all right?”
“Not particularly,” she said. “But this is helping. You really do have the finest whisky. Where’s it from? Scotland?” He nodded, and she smiled, lifting the glass for a sip and then licking the bow of her top lip to collect the moisture there. The provocative swipe made his breath hitch. “Tastes like you.”
Was she sotted?
“My lady—”
“Sarani,” she whispered. “Call me by my name, Rhystan. I’m so sick of pretending to be someone I’m not.” She made a wry smile. “If I’m being honest, you’re the only one I’ve ever been able to be myself with. Then and now. As the princess and as the pretender. I’m so bloody tired of trying to fit in and follow all these ludicrous rules that make no sense. I don’t belong here.” She let out a sound that was painful. “I don’t fit anywhere.”
“You fit with me.”
“You’re a person, not a place.”
Rhystan closed the gap between them and dropped to his knees in front of the armchair. “Belonging isn’t always defined by earthly margins.” He tapped his heart and then his temple. “It can be here and here. Home is where you make it.”
Her soft laugh rasped over his senses. “The Duke of Embry, so poetically mawkish… Who would have thought it?”
“Tell a soul and I’ll deny it to the grave.”
She stared at him, so much swirling in those glittering eyes that appeared dark in the dimness of the study, and took another sip before offering the tumbler to him. He took it and swallowed. It was strangely intimate, sharing her drink. Her hand lifted and reached forward, sifting into a lock of hair curling onto his brow. Rhystan fought the urge to lean into her palm like a cat.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“Helping me.”
He frowned, something in her tone grating at him. Why did it sound like she was saying goodbye? “I didn’t do anything. You dispatched that man on your own. And besides, it was part of our agreement, remember?”
Her face shuttered. “Ah, yes. I’m your pretend fiancée.” She laughed, the sound hollow. “There’s that word again.Pretend.It’s so whimsical, isn’t it? But all it is…is a blade hidden in silk, roses sheathed in thorns. A dangerous lie.” She reached for the glass, wrapping her long fingers over his, and drained the remainder of its contents.
Then she leaned forward and kissed him, the scent of her invading his senses, the press of her lips making his thoughts unravel. “Sarani…what are you doing?”
She uncurled her slender, graceful body from the chair and stood, every inch a princess, ever still a warrior goddess, voice imperious. “I believe you said something about a bath, Your Grace.”
* * *
Sarani’s hands trembled as she disrobed, the sound of running water making her breaths shorten. Thank the goddess for the front-fastening ties of her gown, as it would have tested her mettle to have Rhystan undress her. She was on the edge of absconding as it was. But this had to be goodbye, and before she left, she wanted him to make love to her as herself. Not as anyone else.
She’d never staged a seduction before, but a bath was as good a place to start as any.
She would be naked, after all, and if she had anything to say about it, he would be, too.
A blush chased over her skin. Before she lost courage, she pushed open the connecting door to the bathing chamber and peeked around it. The room was empty, though steam rose from the filled bath, the scent of jasmine oil drifting toward her.
“Rhystan?” she called.
There was no answer, so she darted across the floor and stepped in, sinking into the deliciously hot water of the massive tub. It slid across her skin, the heat seeping into her aching muscles, and Sarani sighed with unbridled pleasure and closed her eyes. It was so large that she couldn’t reach the other end with her toes and she had to stretch her arms wide to reach the sides. It was obvious that this bath was built for two. The thought made more heat drizzle through her.
“Good?”
Her eyes flew open to see the duke standing at the door to his chamber. Sarani’s breath fizzled in her throat. His coat and waistcoat were gone as was his cravat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, exposing thick, muscular forearms. Her mouth dried as he walked toward her, sitting on the carved built-in mahogany bench at the end of the bath. He reached for a cloth and dipped it into the water.
