Page 61 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

She didn’t mind, not one bit. While the Mayfair Prince was captivating in his own right, this man was positively riveting. She loved the sound of the Russian language spoken around her, the spicy taste of the food, eaten with her hands, the smooth, cool vodka as it washed down the piroshki. Most of all, she loved watching him in his element.

Illarion danced by her, flashing her a wide grin as he passed, arms flung wide. Tonight, she was seeing him for the first time. Oh, she didn’t doubt that she’d seen the real him prior to this, only she knew now that what she’d seen was a slice, a carefully doled-out slice—enough to make him interesting to the ton, but not nearly enough to reveal the sum of who he was. He passed by again, this time grabbing her hand and pulling her into the dance as the music shifted into a polka. Her heart whispered a warning even as it sped up in the excitement of being with him. This man was dangerous. This was a man she wanted for ever.

Illarion whirled her about the floor and she laughed with reckless abandon as they wove in and out of couples. It was amazing no one crashed when everyone was dancing as fast as they were. ‘This is madness!’ Dove cried, delighting in the speed and trusting entirely in the competence of Illarion to lead them through the throng of dancers without mishap. Her own hair had fallen down, her pins finally giving up the battle.

Illarion laughed with her, pulling her close. ‘The madness is the best part.’

* * *

The madness ended too soon. It was midnight and, while early for a ball, it was late to be out for a riding exhibition. They said their goodbyes to Nikolay and Klara and Dove reluctantly stepped up into the coach. ‘I feel like Cinderella leaving the ball,’ she said wistfully as the coach pulled away from the kerb. ‘I would have liked to have danced all night.’ The others would. They’d been the first to leave.

Illarion grinned and stretched his legs out from the seat opposite her. His discarded clothing lay in a pile beside him. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d like it.’

‘Did you want me to? I haven’t figured that part out yet.’ Dove voiced the suspicion she’d been harbouring all night. ‘You brought me tonight to teach me a lesson. But I don’t think I learned the one you intended.’ She felt Illarion’s thoughtful gaze study her.

‘Tell me, what did you learn?’

‘That I need to be free. That I was right in wanting to see the world. No matter what it costs.’

‘You don’t know what it costs.’ Illarion’s voice was stern, almost scolding. She was not going to take that from him, not tonight when he’d been the one to open her eyes. How dare he think he could give her such a gift and then snatch it away. Even after last night, he doubted she knew her own mind. She would show him, prove to him, that she was so much more than a pretty, rich girl.

‘My parents treat me as if I am a child and make all my decisions for me. I am not a babe in arms.’ She moved across the small distance between them, sliding next to him on the seat. She could feel the heat rolling off his body, a reminder of how vital, how alive he was. She reached for him, cupping his jaw with her hand, drawing his gaze to her, forcing him to see her and what she intended. ‘I am not a child, Illarion,’ she whispered. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. ‘I know my own mind and I know I want this. I want you. I want the man I saw tonight.’ She moved into him, taking his mouth with hers. She tasted the vodka on his tongue, smelled the mingled scents of exerted man and patchouli.

She wanted, she wanted, she wanted. The words were a litany in her head, pushing her onwards towards more recklessness in a night that had been full of rashness. Her hands framed his face, pushing back the thick fall of his hair. She was kissing him again, but this time she was not alone. His mouth answered hers. The invitation had been accepted. He nipped at her lips with a fierce growl. She nipped back, her mouth duelling with his. Tonight, she would be the one to give him something to growl about. Tonight she would give him pleasure.

Dove kissed him on the mouth, her hand cupped his jaw, she deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring him until Illarion groaned. ‘Where does a duke’s daughter learn to kiss like that?’

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