The Trouble With Princesses by Tracy Anne Warren Page B

floor.
    Suddenly curious to know if she would experience the same dizzying rush of pleasure that she had felt earlier that afternoon in Rupert’s arms, she gave herself over to the moment. She waited, part of her wanting, even wishing, that she would lose herself within his embrace and forget all about Rupert Whyte.
    But the rush didn’t come. Pleasure didn’t burst in her veins and leave her breathless and giddy for more. Instead, she found the kiss sadly hollow, her mind disappointingly her own, her senses those of an observer rather than an eager participant.
    Reaching up, she laid her palms against his chest and gave a little push.
    Selkirk hesitated, then broke the kiss. “Forgive me,” he said in a husky voice. “You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t help myself.”
    “No, no, it’s quite all right. But we really should be getting back now.”
    She was willing to court scandal, but not for this. Not for him.
    “Wait. There is something I must ask you,” he said.
    “Yes?”
    Without warning, he squeezed her hand and dropped to one knee. “Princess Ariadne, I know I am but a lowly baron, nothing to compare to you in rank or wealth. But I find that I must have you. You are all I think about these days. All I want. Say you will set me free from my misery and agree to be my wife.”
    She stared.
    His wife?
    Good God.
    She gazed into his dark eyes, which were shining with hope and anticipation. She’d had suitors propose before, and refusing them never got any easier. It was worse when she actually liked the man, as she did Selkirk. But liking and loving were two very different emotions and she would not be persuaded to accept a pale substitute for the real thing.
    “My lord, you have quite taken me by surprise,” she began, searching for some easy way to let him down. “I was not expecting a declaration from you.”
    “No, I suppose not, but you have one before you nevertheless.”
    “Indeed. Oh, pray stand up. I cannot have you kneeling on this hard stone.”
    “I would willingly continue to do so if you would but relieve my anxiety with an answer. But it shall be as you wish, Your Highness.”
    Smoothly, Selkirk gained his feet and straightened. He waited in patient silence for her reply.
    “My lord, I—,” she began, then stopped when she heard the scrape of a footfall and sensed they were no longer alone. She gazed out into the darkness and saw the shadowed outline of a tall man with broad shoulders and golden hair.
    She scowled and suppressed an oath.
    Of all the times for Rupert to finally make an appearance, he could not have chosen a worse one. He must have arrived and come looking for her. Just how long had he been watching them? And listening?
    Slowly, obviously aware that she had noticed his presence, he strolled forward.
    As he did, she drew her hand out of Selkirk’s grasp, then looked up again to meet Rupert’s gaze across the dimly lit terrace. “Your Royal Highness.”
    “Princess. Selkirk. Don’t let me disturb you,” he told them. “Do carry on.”
    She cringed, hearing the underlying displeasure in his words. Though what right did he have to be angry? She’d made him no promises.
    Not yet.
    Still, an uncomfortable sense of guilt slid through her, leaving her short-tempered and on edge. “Well, Lord Selkirk and I were having a private discussion, but I suppose we can continue it later.”
    Now it was Selkirk’s turn to scowl. “I would rather we continue it now, Your Highness, if you do not mind.”
    Blast it. She’d hoped to at least have a reprieve, maybe even be able to give her refusal in a letter. But turning down a man’s proposal of marriage in a note was a cowardly thing to do and Lord Selkirk deserved better.
    “Yes, of course, my lord. You are right.” She met Rupert’s gaze again. “Some privacy, Prince Rupert, if you would be so good.”
    He raised a sardonic brow. “Of course. I would not wish to intrude any further on your tête-à-tête.”
    With a curt