To Protect a Princess by Jess Michaels

Chapter 13

Ilaria tucked her legs beneath her as she sat on the settee next to Sasha. Remi was across from them, and they were all laughing at his tale of gaming the night before and nearly losing an entire royal carriage.

“If I hadn’t drawn that four of hearts,” he said. “Grantham would have had me drawn and quartered.”

“You must be more careful,” Ilaria said. “Honestly, he might not have you murdered, but imprisoned in a tower is a good possibility.”

“God, he’d love that, wouldn’t he? To tuck us all away while he goes about being kingly.” Remi sighed and shook his head. “I suppose that is unfair.”

Ilaria nodded. “It is. As I was reminded not that long ago, he has a great deal to carry. Perhaps more than we even know.”

Remi frowned. “If that is true, then he should tell us. We’re his siblings, after all, and I include Sasha in that assessment.”

Sasha smiled gently at that. “I think he feels it is his burden, he doesn’t want to place it on any of us.”

For a short while the three of them were quiet, each contemplating what their brother might or might not be enduring. Then Remi shook his head, like he was clearing those less pleasant thoughts away. “Well, I hear Ilaria has a wonderful time ahead of her at the opera with the Viscount Bitteroot,” he said.

“It’s the Earl of Bramwell,” Sasha said, and there was tension in her voice. Ilaria had to wonder if that was because she could tell what this subject did to her.

If Remi had meant to lighten the mood with his teasing, it didn’t work. Ilaria felt herself deflating with the reminder. Her conversation with her mother came rushing back, as well, and she bent her head. “Yes,” she said softly. “It seems there is no escaping it.”

Remi winked at Sasha. “Sasha will go in your place if you don’t want to. She seems to like Bramwell well enough.”

Sasha pushed to her feet suddenly. “What do you mean by that?”

Remi leaned back in his chair. “I saw you two on the terrace at that little gathering…what, three nights ago? Four? I lose track with all the nonsense we are expected to perform.”

Sasha walked away. “You want to talk about nonsense, there it is. I was just talking to the earl outside, nothing more.”

Her tone was sharp, and it was clear she didn’t think Remi’s teasing was funny. It made both Ilaria and her brother stare at her in surprise, because Sasha was never so sharp.

“Very well, as you say,” Remi said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “My apologies.”

Ilaria shook her head. “Well, I wish I liked him,” she said. “I wish I could feel something for the man when he is being thrown in my path so obviously, and now it will be so publicly.”

Remi’s brow wrinkled and he moved from the chair to sit beside Ilaria on the settee in the place Sasha had abandoned. He took her hand, and suddenly his blue eyes, the ones he and only he had inherited from their father, softened.

“I’m sorry, Lari,” he said, reverting back to a childhood nickname that hadn’t been used in years but made her smile despite the pain that had settled in her chest. “Life is wickedly unfair, I know.”

“I realize it was silly to think I could marry for love,” she whispered. “That any of us could, given our positions.”

Remi nodded, but she could see he didn’t understand. Her brother was the consummate rake—he had no interest in such things. He hadn’t met anyone that could tempt him to give up his wicked ways and perhaps he never would.

“Sasha can,” Remi said with a conciliatory smile for her.

Sasha turned from the fireplace and she was still frowning. “No. I will never marry for love,” she said softly. “You may call me sister, but I am not and we both know that. I will spend my life as Ilaria’s companion and occasional body double. And I will…I will do my best to help her be happy if I can.”

Ilaria’s lips parted at the sadness of her friend’s description of her future and was about to address it when there was a light knock on the open parlor door. The butler for the home they were keeping for the Season stepped into the room slightly. “I’m sorry to intrude, Your Highnesses, Miss Killick, but there is a message that just arrived for Princess Ilaria and it was given with some urgency.”

“A message at this hour for me, Greenly?” Ilaria said, giving her brother and Sasha a confused look before she crossed to take the folded message from the silver tray Greenly carried.

“Will there be anything else?” Greenly asked.

She stared at the message, which only had her name across it. Her heart was racing at the sight of it. She’d never seen Jonah’s handwriting before, she realized that now. But she had no doubt this was it. She felt it in her bones. She felt it in the deeply disciplined edges and boundaries of it.

“No, thank you,” Remi said when she didn’t respond. “That will be all, I think.”

The servant left the room and Ilaria rushed to the fireplace, her hands shaking as she broke the hastily melted wax seal and read the message inside.

Ilaria,

This is folly and yet I can’t stop myself. I need to see you. Tonight. I will wait for you in the usual spot behind the garden. If you won’t meet me, I will understand, but I hope I’ll see you soon. I’m waiting there now and will stay for at least an hour.

Yours,

Jonah

She read and reread those words, felt the desperation of them and the connection.

“Who is it from that you go so pale?” Sasha asked.

Ilaria flattened the note to her chest and looked at Remi and Sasha, who were waiting expectantly. There were no two people she trusted more in the world, and in that moment, she had no choice but to give them some information.

“I…I have been spending a little time with Captain Crawford,” Ilaria said. “Sasha knows that.”

“It’s from him?” Sasha burst out, and snatched the letter. She read it and her eyes went wide. “Ilaria!”

“Well, it’s not fair that I don’t get to see it,” Remi grunted, and took the paper next.

Ilaria huffed out a breath. “That was a private correspondence.”

“Not anymore,” Remi said with a chuckle. When he’d read it, his gaze lifted and the playfulness was gone from his look and his tone. “Ilaria…”

“Oh, please don’t take a serious tone. I get that enough from Grantham and Mama.” She snatched the note back. “I know I’m being a fool, but this is my last chance to be so. Tomorrow everything will change, won’t it? Within a few days, perhaps a week or two, my life will be set in stone and I’ll never have the opportunity to do this again.” She held up the note and shook it. “I’ll never have the ability to see…to see him again.”

“This is far more serious than I thought,” Sasha whispered.

“It can’t be serious,” Ilaria corrected. “But it can be mine, just for one more night. Will you help me? Or at least not thwart me.”

Remi sighed. “I won’t stop you. But I’m going to go down with you.”

She drew back. “You’re playing protective older brother then?”

He shrugged. “I have the costume, I might as well since there’s no one else to do the duty.” He looked her up and down. “Are you wearing that?”

She glanced at herself. She was wearing a rather plain gown because she and the others had been staying in. “I…”

“No, she’s not,” Sasha said, grabbing for her hand. “If this is your last hurrah, you’re going to have it in all your glory. I’ll help you.”

Ilaria might have argued, but the fact was she did want to look as pretty as she could for Jonah. So she let Sasha drag her from the room to prepare for what might be the last night they would share together, at least privately.

And she tried not to contemplate too closely how much pain that idea brought her.

* * *

When the gate opened and Ilaria stepped into the moonlight, Jonah pushed from the wall with a gasp. She was stunning in a dark green gown that clung to her curves with mouthwatering beauty. Her dark hair had been done to perfection, framing her face. When she smiled at him? Oh, the love he could now admit, if only to himself, that he felt for her was almost overwhelming. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, to claim it with word and deed until no one could deny it.

He moved toward her, but came to a halt when Prince Remington stepped out behind her. Normally the man was a court jester, but tonight he looked serious as the grave as he followed Ilaria to Jonah’s side.

She met Jonah’s eyes and shrugged. “He was with me when your note arrived and wanted to escort me to you,” she explained quietly.

Remi held his stare. “I assume you can be trusted with her.”

Jonah almost didn’t know what to say. He truly couldn’t be trusted. He would protect her from harm from others, of course. He would never hurt her or make her do something she didn’t want to do. But he couldn’t be trusted, because he loved her. And that made him blind to oh-so very much.

“He has always protected me,” Ilaria said when Jonah didn’t answer the question.

Remi shrugged, and then he squeezed Ilaria’s hand. “Have fun, be careful.”

Jonah guided her to the passenger-side of the phaeton and helped her up, but as he came around the back of the vehicle, Remi blocked his path. The prince leaned in closer. “I may seem like a fool to you, Captain. Perhaps I am. But if you hurt my sister, I want you to understand that I will endyou.”

Jonah cleared his throat. In truth, he was happy to see Ilaria so protected by her family. He nodded. “Understood.”

“Good night,” Remi said, a little brighter and louder so that Ilaria would hear. Then he turned on his heel and went back into the garden, shutting the gate behind himself.

Jonah climbed up next to Ilaria and urged the horses into a trot back out onto the street.

“Jonah,” Ilaria began.

He shook his head. “Please don’t speak.”

She wrinkled her brow. “Why?”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Because I’ll talk myself out of this. Mask on the seat beneath you.”

She smiled slightly and tugged the mask from beneath herself. “Back to Donville?”

“It’s ours, isn’t it?” he said softly.

She nodded. “Yes. More than any other place in this city, it belongs to you and me.”

For the rest of the ride, they sat in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She rested her head on his shoulder and he could almost pretend they were allowed to be together, allowed to be so close. That this wasn’t a last, desperate night to steal rather than earn.

At Donville, they both put on their masks and he maneuvered them through main hall. Neither of them looked at the games around them. Tonight wasn’t about games.

A private room was provided, and after he had locked the door and closed the peeping window, he turned toward her and tugged off his mask. She did the same, and for a heartbeat they only stared at each other.

She mouthed his name, not said it, just mouthed it, and it broke him. He crossed to her in a few long steps, caught her cheeks and dropped his mouth to hers. She lifted into him, clinging to him like he was a life raft on the stormy seas.

They staggered back, falling against the soft bed in a tangle of arms and legs and mouths and tongues. He partially covered her, arching against her as he slowed the kiss, deepened the kiss, tried to put aside desperation so he could savor this. Worship her.

How long they kissed, he couldn’t have said. It might have been a moment, it might have been a lifetime. He lost himself in her and he didn’t want to be found. But at last he lifted his head and looked down into those warm brown eyes that were so soft with emotion and bright with desire.

He traced the line of her jaw with a fingertip. “I want to say something and I know it isn’t fair. It isn’t right.”

She blinked up at him. “What is it?”

“I…want you, Ilaria. I have wanted you probably from the first moment I saw you. You were standing with the royal party to greet the regent and his honor guard at the dock in Athawick and my heart…I wanted you then and I pushed it down, crushed it down. I should do the same now, but I need you to know that I want you so very desperately.”

She blinked. “You’ve told me more than once that we can’t…we can’t make love. What changed?”

He shook his head. “Because tomorrow you will go out in public with…with him.”

There was no need to clarify who him was. She turned her face. “How do you know that?”

“I saw him earlier this afternoon. He mentioned the opera and I knew, I know, what will happen after that.”

“Yes,” she said, and didn’t look back at him.

He cupped her jaw and turned her face so that their eyes could meet. “After that happens, we won’t be able to do this anymore.”

Her dark eyes went glossy with unshed tears. “I know that, as well.”

“So if all we have is tonight, then I have to tell you what I need.” She nodded, but he didn’t allow himself to kiss her again even though he wanted so desperately to just lose himself in her all over again. “If you don’t want to do anything more than lie in each other’s arms and kiss or have me pleasure you, I’ll understand that. I don’t want you to think you can’t say no. But I will regret it the rest of my life if I don’t ask. And I fear I’ll already regret a great deal when it comes to you.”

She shivered at the confession and then cupped the back of his head. “Just like you, I’ve wanted this for a long time. Perhaps we should deny it, perhaps we should walk away and try to forget this connection we both feel. But I can’t. I won’t. I want you, too, Jonah. And I want this tonight, here in this bed, in this place. So please—” She drew his mouth closer. “Make me yours, even if it’s only for this stolen moment.”

He brought his lips back to hers, this time with more purpose and drive. With her permission given, he sank into the love and desire he felt, knowing it would only be this one time, so he had to make it remarkable. For her.

For him.