The Princess Read online

  The king took her chin in his hand. “I asked him to stay to protect you. Now he has the guard protecting you, so why is he still here? Why didn’t he go home last week?”

  Aria’s eyes widened as she thought about this. “I think I’m hungry. I think I’ll eat that whole plate of chocolates and do you think Ned could open a bottle of champagne? Lanconian champagne?”

  The king laughed. “Go tell Ned to open two bottles and get off my leg before it dies and get me a clean handkerchief, you’ve soaked this one. Really, Aria, didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners?”

  She laughed as she got up. “I guess they didn’t take.” She turned and started running across the lawn toward the house.

  The king crossed his hands on his belly and smiled contentedly.

  * * *

  J.T. woke instantly, at the first sound coming from behind the panel that led down to the concealed staircase. Silently, he left the bed and made his way toward the panel. His service revolver was in the drawer by the bed and he got it as he moved.

  With the revolver held ready, he waited for the door to open. It creaked on its hinges, then whoever was opening it stopped until it was silent again and pushed the door further open.

  “Freeze,” J.T. said, lowering the pistol.

  His answer was a hiccup.

  “Gena?” he asked.

  “Gena!” Aria said, her voice just a bit slurred. “Gena!”

  J.T. backed away from her as if she were diseased and turned on a floor lamp. Aria was clutching a bottle of champagne and wearing a thin, clinging bathrobe that looked as if she wore nothing underneath. “Get out of here,” he said under his breath.

  She took a step forward. “But, Jarl, aren’t you glad to see me?”

  “Aria, are you drunk?”

  “I believe I am, but since I have never been drunk before, I’m not sure if I am. How does one know?”

  J.T. backed away from her until he was against the wardrobe. “Why did you come here? Someone might have seen you.”

  Aria advanced until she was just a few steps away from him. “I came to spend the night with you,” she whispered.

  He started to say something in protest but then Aria dropped her robe. She was not wearing anything underneath and the sight of her nude body made him forget his protests. He was wearing only his pajama bottoms and he opened his arms to her, feeling her bare breasts against his chest.

  He kissed her neck and cheeks and lips hungrily. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his lips trailing hot kisses up and down her neck and shoulders. “You have a reputation to uphold. A royal princess cannot—”

  She put her mouth on his. “I am your wife tonight, not Her Royal Highness.”

  He pulled back and looked at her. “I like that,” he whispered. “I like that very much.”

  Bending, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the big bed, laying her across the sheets and looking at her for a long while before touching her, and Aria thought he was looking at her as if he planned to remember her for always.

  “What is it you Americans say? ‘Aren’t you going to offer a lady a drink?’ ” Aria said, holding up the bottle of champagne she still held.

  J.T. was still looking at her, sitting on the edge of the bed and lightly running his fingers over her breasts and her ribs, down her arms.

  Aria used her thumbs to open the champagne bottle and the cork flew out. The champagne spewed over her belly and down J.T.’s back. She laughed and started to brush the flood of liquid away but J.T. caught her hands and begin to drink it off her body, his head moving upward until his mouth settled on her breasts.

  She was intoxicated, feeling wonderfully free, able to do anything. With a quick, strong move, she pulled J.T. to the bed then wriggled out from under him and began to drink the champagne droplets from his bare back. She straddled his legs, loving the feel of his strong, heavy thighs between her own as she ran her tongue up his spine, then began making nippling little kisses down his back. He lay absolutely still under her, as if, were he to move, she might stop. Her breasts against his skin felt so good that she raked the tips of them across his back, her stomach touching his buttocks. She stretched out on him, her legs straddling his, moving her body along his, savoring the sensation of his skin against hers. She rubbed her hair and face on his back again and again, feeling him, tasting him, smelling him.

  She moved downward and began to kiss his buttocks, his legs, the backs of his knees, his calves, his feet. She pressed the soles of his feet to her face, breathed deeply, then moved upward again.

  When she reached his neck, she took her kisses across his cheek to his lips, and when she kissed his mouth, he turned over. His eyes were on fire and his stillness was gone. His hands were rough and quick on her body as he picked her up and set her down on his manhood.

  She gave a delighted scream of surprise then began to move with all the abandonment she felt, her legs strong and moving with hard strength until they tightened and began to ache. J.T. turned her over and slammed into her with a few deep, hard thrusts until they came together in one blinding explosion.

  He held on to her tightly, holding her against his chest, her legs wrapped around him.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “And I want you to stay with me.”

  He was still for a moment, then he rolled off of her to sit on the side of the bed and pull on his pajama bottoms. “Is that what this is about? You climb into bed with me and then demand payment? We have a name for women like you.” He moved across the room and picked up her fallen robe. He didn’t look at her as he tossed it to her. “Get out of here.”

  Aria tried to react with dignity, but she was a little too drunk on champagne and lovemaking to be perfectly lucid. She got out of bed, tripping on her robe, and made her way to the panel door he held open for her. He kept his head turned away as he held out a flashlight to her and she went down the stairs. The sound of the door closing behind her was horrible.

  She was halfway down the stairs when a hand closed over her mouth and a gun was stuck in her ribs.

  She struggled against the person holding her.

  “So this is how you move about in this moldering old castle” came a familiar voice. “Keep that flashlight still.”

  She scratched at the hand on her mouth. “Freddie!” she gasped.

  “You say one more word and I’ll break your neck here and now, Aria. Everyone I’ve sent has failed at the job of killing you, so I might as well do it myself.” He was dragging her down the dark corridor away from the door leading to the garden. “They’ll find your body in a few days, and when they do, I plan to make myself king. All I have to do is get rid of Gena and I figure the old king will die of grief. I am next in line to the throne.”

  She managed to move her head enough to speak. “Why do you want to be king?” she gasped out.

  “Dear, stupid Aria. You only looked at the peasants, nothing else. This is a dying country. Better to sell it to the Germans than to try to keep its independence. Uranium, my dear. The country is riddled with it. I shall sell the whole place to the highest bidder and live in France. Damn, but you have been hard to kill, Aria.”

  “And she’s going to be harder” came a voice from the darkness.

  Aria had seen several American movies and she imitated a western now by ducking while Freddie was distracted. Her flashlight fell and went rolling as she flattened her body onto the filthy floor. Shots rang over her head, the stone walls of the tunnel echoing with the deafening sound. Dirt and bits of stone rained down on her head.

  She lay still for a moment until the air cleared. “Jarl!” she screamed, and she was as loud as the shots.

  “Here, baby,” he said, and she ran to him in the darkness.

  She held on to him with all her might.

  “It’s over,” he whispered. “You’re safe and I can go home.”

  It wasn’t easy to do but she pulled away from him. “Yes, you must return to your country and I must remain i