Page 60 of A Problem Princess

She searched his face. “You don’t want to touch me again?”

A curse tore from him. He brought her hand against his crotch and the hard bulge under his breeches. “Can’t you feel how much I want to do just that, and more?”

If he’d meant to shock her, he’d failed. Instead, she brushed her fingertips curiously over him to discover for herself the effect she had on him. He couldn’t be comfortable, squeezed into his breeches like that, but she also knew this wasn’t the only reason he was pained.

“I’m not made of glass,” she said softly as she lifted her head to kiss him and taste the spicy-sweet flavor of his lips. “I’m not some statue to be placed onto a pedestal and admired from afar.” She caressed him harder with her palm, eliciting a low groan from him as his breath turned into shallow pants. “I’m a living woman of flesh and blood. Can’t I be only that for you? For this one moment, can’t I just be yours?”

A strangled sound tore from him. He grabbed her wrist and stilled her hand.

“You’re a princess,” he bit out.

When he lifted her hand away, the dark torment she witnessed in him nearly undid her.

“You canneverbe mine.”

***

Clayton crawled out of bed and splashed cold water from the washbasin over his face, not caring that he was drenching his shirt and breeches. He still had a chance, however slight, to convince the Home Office and palace that he’d had nothing to do with last night’s attack, that he’d fled with Cordelia only to save her life. She would come to his defense, and all would be set to rights—ifhe could keep his goddamned hands to himself.

The water ran in rivulets down his chest and back, and he welcomed the cold. But he could have jumped into the bloody freezing Thames and it still wouldn’t have been enough to purge the heat she put into his loins. Or the foolish desire to be so much more to her than merely a bodyguard.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he explained stiffly. He clasped the sides of the washstand with both hands and somehow managed to resist the urge to dunk his entire head into the basin. “You surprised me, and I…”I lost my mind.

If he hadn’t stopped when he had, he would certainly have also lost his soul.

“Don’t,” she ordered softly. “Don’t you dare apologize for what we—”

“Mydeepestapologies,” he rasped out.

For a long while, only silence responded to that. Then, softly, “I thought you cared about me.”

Cared?A tight laugh tore from him. He more than cared. He’d give his life for hers, and he’d come to realize that pledge had little to do anymore with the fact that she was a princess in England’s care. She’d found her way under his skin—worse, into his heart—and he knew that she would be a singular event in his life.

He’d never meet another woman like her again.

He swept his hands over his face and hair to wipe the water away, took a deep breath, and faced her.

The sight of her hit him like a punch. She was still in the rumpled bed where he’d left her with her hair cascading around her shoulders like a silk curtain, her raised skirts showing her bare legs from her thighs down, and her bodice pulled scandalously low across her breasts.

God help him, he’d never seen a more alluring woman than Cordelia at that moment. She had no idea the kind of knots she tied him in, what threats she posed, or all he was sacrificing for her.

But a self-destructive urge inside him made him confess, “More than you’ll ever know.”

A sharp knock came at the door. They both froze, and Cordelia’s eyes locked fearfully with his.

Clayton placed a finger to his lips to signal for her to keep her silence. “Who is it?” he called out.

“A woman who’s going to become very wealthy in only a few days when you pay your bill,” Madame Noir answered, as flippant as ever. “Foreveryservice you owe me.”

Cordelia scrambled out of bed and yanked her dress back into place. But there was no help for her mussed hair, the wrinkles in her skirts, or the telltale puffiness he’d kissed into her red lips.

With a grimace, he went to the door and picked up the pistol he’d placed nearby. He flipped the locks and opened the door a crack to peer out at the landing—empty except for Madame, who didn’t look at all happy.

He let her inside and locked the door after her. He didn’t set down his gun.

Madame glanced at Cordelia on the other side of the room, but she gave no reaction to the princess’s disheveled appearance before returning her attention to Clayton. “You need to leave,” she said quietly so Cordelia couldn’t overhear. “Immediately.”

“What have you heard?”