Part 22 (1/2)
Mairi's face fell. ”I suppose so. We'd have to lose a few games on purpose. Oh, look! There's the prince's grandmother by the door, speaking with Sir Henry and the prince. She's tiny, isn't she?”
”We should stop by to pay our respects before we leave. Where's Sorcha?” Mama looked about. ”There she is. Oh dear.”
Sorcha was marching away from Lord Strathmoor as he watched, his mouth twisted as if he'd tasted a lemon.
When Sorcha reached them she pressed her fingers to her temples. ”I've such a headache. May we go soon, Mama?”
”Of course, my dear. Mairi, could you ask one of the footmen to send for the carriage? The rest of us will make our good-byes.”
Alexsey hid a pleased smile when he saw Bronwyn and her mother and sister navigating their way toward him. Now was his opportunity to speak to her. He would pull her a little out of the way and offer to meet her somewhere close by.
”Your Highness?” Miss MacInvers stood looking up at him, a question plain in her eyes.
He bowed. ”Yes?”
”That was an amazing performance, but . . . I wrote all of the words to be guessed, and I don't remember the word 'siren.' ”
He raised his brows coolly. ”I do not know what to tell you. That was my word.”
She blinked. ”Of course. I don't know what I was thinking. My wretched memory-”
”It is no problem. I played your game and enjoyed myself very much. You did a very good job.”
She flushed, looking inanely pleased. ”Thank you, Your Highness!”
He bowed and she left.
His grandmother looked at him, her eyes narrowed. ”What word did you draw from the bowl?”
”It is unimportant.”
She held out her hand. ”I would see the word, please.”
He shrugged, dug into his pocket, and pulled out a strip of paper.
She looked at it. ” 'Pall-mall.' What is this?”
”I don't know. I don't care, either. I knew what word I wished to enact.”
Tata started to say something, but Lady Malvinea arrived at that moment to say her good-byes.
Alexsey bowed over Bronwyn's hand. ”I have waited for this all evening,” he murmured.
Her smile froze, her gaze flickering to her stepmother and his grandmother.
”Stop looking like a hare before the chase. You will only draw more attention. Tell me, Roza, have you been avoiding me?”
She plastered a faint smile on her face, but her eyes shot cautiously toward her mother before she said, ”You left your glove at my house. My stepmother suspects something.”
”Ah. That explains it, then. I thought you were angry with me.”
She looked surprised. ”No, no. I just-” Her hand tightened over his. ”We must be more cautious.”
Relief flooded him. Had they been alone, he would have swept her into his arms and covered her with kisses. As it was, he merely covered her hand with his. ”I will. But I must see you again. Alone.”
For a moment he thought she'd refuse, but something flickered in her eyes and she said in a husky voice, ”I would like that, too. Very much.”
Bozhy moj, she had such sensual eyes. They looked right through him and made him yearn for her anew.
She lowered her voice. ”Tomorrow, come to-”
”Bronwyn.” Lady Malvinea linked her arm with her stepdaughter's, a bright smile on her face. ”Poor Sorcha has a headache. We really must go.”
”Yes, of course.” But as she was hustled off by Lady Malvinea, Bronwyn sent him a quick, regretful glance, leaving Alexsey certain he'd see her again soon.
Roland ran the smooth stone along the edge of his sword. With each steady stroke, a fine glittering of metal dust floated through the air, leaving the blade sharpened in its wake. It took the strike of a hard stone to sharpen a blade. And a strong blade to withstand a stone's strike.
-The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth The Black Duke in one hand, her cloak thrown over her arm, Bronwyn ran down the stairs to the kitchen. Scott and Walter trotted behind her, hard on her heels. ”Good morning!” she called to Mrs. Pitcairn.
”Good morning, miss.” As the older woman set a lid on a fragrant pot, she saw the dogs. ”Och, dinna bring them in here!” She lunged for a leg of mutton that was resting on the table just before Walter reached it. ”This is no' fer the likes o' ye, ye wild beastie!”
Walter managed to look both hopeful and apologetic, but Mrs. Pitcairn was having none of it. ”Oot wit' ye, ye mangy mutt, and take that sneak-thief brither of yers wit' ye!”
She wrapped the leg of mutton in waxed paper and placed it on a high shelf, while Bronwyn opened the kitchen door and watched the dogs race into the early-morning suns.h.i.+ne. It was a beautiful day, unusually warm for this time of year, the sun spilling golden rays across the brown and green hills.
If not for the dogs waking her, she'd still have been in bed. She'd fallen asleep very late, unable to stop thinking about Alexsey.
She was sure he would visit today, and she needed to be ready-more ready than she had been at their last encounter, when she'd been seduced in the midst of her own seduction. She couldn't succ.u.mb to him every time he was near or she'd never gain the upper hand, which she was more than ever determined to do.
She'd underestimated her opponent. He knew far more about the ways of seduction than she did. From now on, she had to think in a more complex fas.h.i.+on, tempt him in more sophisticated ways, give him just enough hope-but not too much-to make him mad with l.u.s.t. And then, just when he thought he'd won her over, she'd laugh and inform him how mistaken he was.
What a glorious day that would be! But first she had to find a way to maintain control over her reactions to his overtures. While that sounded simple right now, when Alexsey was nowhere to be seen, it was much harder to remember when he was kissing her senseless.
But today she would turn the tables and show Alexsey Romanovin that he wasn't the only one capable of overwhelming another person's wits and calm sensibilities.
Sadly, all she had left in her a.r.s.enal of seduction techniques gleaned from her novels was the power of scent. She had to find a scent that would make him think of her every time he smelled it, one that would torment him with memories after she'd gone. One that would make him regret being so callous as to plan to seduce a woman for no better reason than he'd been told not to. Of all the valid reasons there were to seduce someone-love, admiration, pa.s.sion-stubbornness of character was the least attractive.
Such an insult must be answered and all she needed was a perfume so seductive that he would grow pa.s.sionate just upon smelling it. But there was one problem. Yesterday, while Mama and Sorcha had been out visiting the vicar and his wife, Bronwyn had gone to Mama's bedchamber to sample perfumes, but she found they were all too cloying or heavy. She wanted to drive Alexsey mad with l.u.s.t, not make him think of funeral flowers. So next, Bronwyn had sampled Sorcha's perfume, which was much lighter and nicer. Bronwyn had almost borrowed it, when a thought occurred: if she wanted the scent to remind Alexsey of her whenever he smelled it, then the last thing she should do was borrow another woman's perfume.
Frustrated, Bronwyn had reluctantly put the idea behind her. She didn't have the time to find a scent for Alexsey to identify with her. Besides, if she did find one, in order to drive the prince mad with desire (if it even worked), she'd have to pay a servant to spritz some about Tulloch Castle, which would never do.
She sighed, wondering how she could seduce someone who was so good at seduction. As she did so, she caught the delicious aromas rising in the fragrant kitchen-cinnamon, nutmeg, basil, dill-was that thyme? Perhaps she'd been thinking about scents in too narrow of a fas.h.i.+on. What if she instead smelled like something he came into contact with every day, something that would make him remember their time together, their kisses, their embraces?
Mrs. Pitcairn dried her hands on her ap.r.o.n. ”Off to read, are ye?”
”Yes, but I've only an hour. Mairi and I are to polish the silver this morning.”
”Ye work hard; ye deserve some time to play.” Cook lifted the damp cloth covering a large bowl and removed a ball of risen bread dough. ”Yer sisters willna' be here forever, miss. Once't they're married, 'twill jus' be ye and yer ma' and yer da'. Wha' will ye do then?”
”I'm not really sure.” Bronwyn hesitated. ”At one time, I thought Ackinnoull was my future. It was all I wanted. But now . . .” She leaned against the table. ”I'm not certain what the future holds. Perhaps once Sorcha and Mairi are settled, I'll travel.”