To Protect a Princess by Jess Michaels

Chapter 5

Jonah knew that Ilaria was coming toward him. He’d seen her as she made her initial approach and dropped his gaze so his stare wouldn’t be too obvious. People were watching her, after all. Everyone was watching her, not just him. But he felt her as she moved closer, closer. Felt her down to his bones and in his rapidly heating blood.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed as she reached him.

He lifted his eyes and let his gaze flit over her face. One had to appreciate that her expression could remain cool and detached even when her words were heated and the spark in her eyes said she was raring for a fight.

She was absolutely stunning in that moment. He had to use every ounce of control in his arsenal not to be well and truly stunned.

“I beg your pardon?” he drawled, glad he could sound far more detached than he felt.

She clenched her jaw and her tone was tense as she said, “My mother tells me you made your exalted opinions public when it comes to Lord Bramwell and our potential union.”

Jonah’s jaw dropped at that and he stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

She folded her arms, which only served to highlight the lovely curve of her breasts. Still, he had to maintain focus. No ogling.

“You encouraged the match,” she declared with a quick glance around her to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

They weren’t. People were watching, of course, but no one was close enough to hear them. Still he stepped a little farther away from the main group and motioned her to follow.

“I did no such thing,” he argued softly.

“You didn’t talk to my mother about the Earl of Bramwell?” she snapped.

He pursed his lips. “Queen Giabella did ask me what I knew about Lord Bramwell because he is the brother-in-law of a friend of mine. And yes, I did recommend him to her because he seems a decent man. But that was as far as it went. I never suggested you should be matched with him. I never gave a stamp of approval for such thing.”

She shifted and he could see some of the starch coming out of her. “That…makes sense, I suppose.”

“I certainly hope so. I don’t think I have any place in encouraging any matches for you.” He had said the words but immediately wished he could take them back. Especially when she tilted her head and examined him more closely.

“Why not?” she asked.

A dozen answers raced through his mind. All of them inappropriate. None of them something he could say to her as she stood what felt like too close, staring up at him with those beautiful dark brown eyes.

“It isn’t my place,” he said at last, his voice choked.

She sighed and the sound seemed to shudder from her very soul. “Well, I am sorry. I was upset and it seems I’ve taken it out on you.”

He shrugged. “This—” He waved his hand around to indicate the gathering. “—can be overwhelming.”

She nodded. “What you say is most definitely true. No matter how long you are raised in it. Honestly I don’t know why you’d put yourself in the middle of this. Where do you fit?”

He cast her a side glance. “You think me unsuitable for Society, Your Highness?”

Her eyes widened a fraction and her breath hitched. “Of course not. I just think you are a military man and one with little patience for frivolity.”

He smothered a smile. She wasn’t wrong there. At least about the second part. Though the first…

“I was once a military man,” he corrected.

“Once?” she repeated.

“I thought you knew. I am retired.”

She blinked. “No, I didn’t know. No one told me. But you loved the Royal Navy, that was evident any time we talked about it back in Athawick. What could compel you to take your retirement at such a young age? You are vital and potent—certainly you could have continued.”

He sucked in a breath at the descriptors she used. Certainly he felt a bit potent at present, with the lilac scent of her hair wafting on the light breeze to his nostrils and her gaze focused so intently on him.

He swallowed. “I could have in body, yes. But you see I received…” He hesitated, just as he always hesitated at this subject. “I received an inheritance just after we last met. And it came with responsibilities I would not have been able to aptly discharge if I were still serving. So I was forced to take on this choice.”

Her eyes widened a fraction and he saw how much she understood that statement. How much it connected them that circumstance forced them into situations they did not want. Her gaze flitted down his body and he tensed. Added to that emotional connection was the physical one. Because he knew she…well, wanted might be a strong word. A woman like Ilaria had likely been raised not to recognize those types of things.

But they were still there, burning hot under the surface. And they mirrored his own wicked feelings that he had to control under all circumstances.

“And so you are here seeking a Society bride then?” she asked, her voice a little rougher and lower.

A Society bride. He had a few in his life encouraging him to do so, both voices he respected and ones he did not. But he never thought about that future. It didn’t feel like his. None of this did.

But he couldn’t say that to Ilaria. Nor could he tell her that his real purpose in being here was to watch her, report on her to her brother. Keep her from doing something reckless.

So he inclined his head. “As you are seeking a husband.”

“No,” she said. “No. My brother and mother are seeking a Society husband for position and rank and duty.”

“You say that word as if it is a curse.”

“If it is all anyone cares about, to the detriment of all else, then I think it is,” she said softly. “I saw what a union only about duty entails, Captain. That they would want that for me…that she would want that for me…”

For the first time since he’d met this woman, glittering in her palace on her island, he saw a crack in her. And behind it all the pain and darkness and fear that she so carefully hid behind a façade. He saw it all, in a brief moment that she erased almost before it began. And he wanted desperately to help her. Truly help her, not just keep her from making her situation worse.

“I am sorry, Ilaria,” he said softly.

Her eyes widened and he realized he had been far too familiar. Now her cheeks flamed and she worried her hands before her. “I-I see Remi has somehow made his way here and I need to speak to him. Please excuse me.”

She did not wait for his response as would be expected, but cast him one last quick glance and then skirted away toward her brother. He watched her as she made her way through the crowd, and shook his head.

Now that he knew the depth of her emotions when it came to this situation, he recognized how truly dangerous this was. And he feared she might go too far and go to a place where even he could not save her. So he would have to be more vigilant, more focused, even though he knew he dragged himself to hell by doing so.

* * *

Ilaria felt like she was listing as she made her way to Remi across the grass. Her brother looked half-drunk still and she suddenly felt like it. Off-kilter, uncertain. She blamed Captain Crawford entirely. He had thrown her off with his questions, with his ability to extract explanations she normally kept to herself. With the way his gaze focused so entirely on her in a way no other man had ever done.

Remi sighed as she reached him and forced a bleary smile. “There she is.”

“And there you are,” she said, trying to bring herself back to the present. “You didn’t come home last night, did you?”

He chuckled. “Are you playing the role of disappointed courtier? Trust me, Ilaria, I’ll have enough chats with those later. I don’t want a preview.”

She frowned. For all his ridiculousness, Remi had his serious side. She knew being spare to the heir had been difficult. Their father had cared little for anyone but Grantham, and only so the king could browbeat him into becoming the kind of monarch he expected. Ilaria and Remi had been left out of the cold. Remi had behaved accordingly.

“Where were you then?” she asked softly.

He darted his gaze toward her and actually looked guilty. She caught her breath because Remi never looked guilty.

“Nowhere you should know about,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Should I worry?”

He wrinkled his brow. “No. I just…it’s not a place for ladies. Or…it is a place for ladies. But it’s not a place for you.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, unable to mask her outrage.

He held up his hands as if to surrender. “You shouldn’t know about it. It’s not yours.”

She glared at him slowly. “You’re as bad as the two of them.”

He drew back and she knew the barb she’d thrown had landed, just as she intended it to. There was nothing Remi hated more than being compared to those in power. Their father, but later their brother. And the sycophants who ruled over it all.

He pursed his lips. “Fine, nosy noodle…”

She laughed at the silly quip that reminded her of childhood days when she and her two brothers had made a game of insults that shared the same first letter. God, those days seemed like another life now.

“…I’ll tell you, but you might be sorry.”

She tilted her head. “Well then?”

“It is called the Donville Masquerade. It’s an underground club with gaming and music and…er…entertainments.”

She rolled her eyes. “So some slightly rowdier version of the same clubs you gentlemen have made exclusive of ladies for decades. Bravo, Remi, you’re as boring as the rest.”

He shook his head. “It’s not…it’s not that kind of club. There are women in attendance for one and everyone wears masks and it gets a little…a little…”

He was plum-red now, and Ilaria’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Sweaty,” he whispered, looking around as if he feared someone would overhear.

“What does that mean?” she whispered back. “You’re being very unclear.”

“Because the subject is not one talked about in polite company,” he said. He gave her a look laced with meaning. “It’s a club for people to enjoy each other. You know what I’m saying, Ilaria. Enjoy each other. With anonymity. Without consequences.”

“Enjoy each other without—oh!” She stared at him, gape-mouthed as what he meant sank in. “You mean it’s a club for, er…for, er…”

“Yes. For er.”

“Remi!” she gasped. “That cannot be true. The English are known prudes—how could they have such a club and have it acceptable?”

“Well, I’m not sure it is acceptable,” he said. “The masks make it less dangerous, that is all. And the man who runs the place, Marcus Rivers, seems to keep a tight ship so that no one is taken advantage of…and so that nothing that happens in those walls exits them.”

She continued to stare at him in disbelief. What he described was tempting, indeed. She knew about pleasure. She had learned how to give it to herself. She had even found a hint of it with a lover a few years ago. Nothing serious, but a bit of fun to pass the time. Life in court was so very boring.

But it had been a long time since she indulged in anything like that. Her father’s death, the upheaval after, it had muted all pleasure. And now that she was here, everything in her life was further turned on its head. Her family was encouraging her to throw her life away for duty.

And everywhere she turned she saw Captain Crawford and his ruddy hair and pale eyes, watching her. Tracking her. Drawling at her until her body trembled.

Perhaps that was just because she had been alone for so long. Perhaps if she changed that—or at least did something shocking, even if it wasn’t so far as taking a lover—she would forget those thoughts and feelings and desires.

Perhaps she could regain a little control.

“This is an entirely uncomfortable subject,” Remi said, interrupting her thoughts. “And I no longer wish to have this discussion.”

“Fine, I don’t want to talk about it with you either,” Ilaria said. “But you might want to gird your loins, because our hostess is coming over and she is very interested in our monarchy. Or at least the male lines of it since Lady Questington has a daughter of a certain age.”

“Christ,” Remi muttered, and glanced over his shoulder to find Lady Questington indeed heading in their direction. “I better make myself scarce.”

He shot her a look and then nearly sprinted away, leaving her laughing after him despite her annoyance with her current situation.

And yet her laughter faded as she thought, once again, of what her brother had revealed to her. She looked around and found Captain Crawford once again. He was impossible to miss, after all. He almost stood out like a beacon, hateful…beautiful man.

She wanted him. It was something she had recognized all those years ago in Athawick when they had talked and, yes, flirted, and almost…well, sometimes she wasn’t certain what they’d almost done one warm summer’s night. She’d tried to forget him, and yet the moment they were in the same space, it was clear she had not.

But it was impossible. Crawford was too respectable a man to give her what she wanted. She was already locked into a life she didn’t desire.

So that was a hopeless case. And maybe the only way to forget about it was to seek pleasure elsewhere. This club seemed a good enough idea. She just needed to find out a little more about it. Luckily there were people on her brother’s payroll who were willing to take blunt and ask no questions when she needed information.

And she intended to use those people. As soon as possible.