“Your Royal Highness, I cannot fathom why you would wish for me to attend you.”
“Sit,” he ordered her.
She seated herself primly on the chair, arranging the fall of her skirts as if it were of the utmost interest to her. Looking anywhere but at him.
“You ought to try to rest, Your Royal Highness,” she told her lap.
Blast it, he finally had her where he wanted her, and she was denying him the full force of her gaze.
“I’m up here,” he told her wryly. “And please, call me Nando. Given the rather intimate nature of our current tête-à-tête, it only seems right.”
At last, she looked at him. “Your Royal Highness.”
“Nando.”
“I cannot call you by your given name.”
“Of course you can. Try it.”
She huffed a sigh. “If you take your laudanum, I shall.”
And this was why he had welcomed her into his cloud. She was every bit as diabolical as he was. How excellent. It pleased him greatly.
“Ah, a bribe. That is surprisingly cunning of you, my dear. I like it.”
Miss Brett frowned. “I was thinking of it more as a compromise.”
He twirled a finger. “Call it whatever you like. Very well, I’ll have the laudanum if you call me Nando.”
“Only when we are alone.”
He grinned wolfishly. “Wonderful, for I intend us to be alone often.”
And naked. But he refrained from adding that rather salient bit.
Her nostrils flared. He thought she might chastise him. Actually, he hoped she would. There was something about her frosty rebukes that made him want to kiss her. And more.
Pity he was wounded. There wasn’t much he could accomplish with his arm as it was.
“I expect this will be the last time we’ll be alone,” she countered with her impeccable poise.
“And I expect you’re wrong, my darling Eleanora, but you may think that if you like.” Because he was a prince, and he always got what he wanted.
He shifted in the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, and pain shot through him, making his gut clench. Damn it, perhaps the laudanum he’d consumed earlier at Bruno’s behest was losing its efficacy.
She must have taken note of his contorting face because she sprang to her feet, hovering like a fretful little bird.
“Are you in pain, Your Royal Highness?”
Her scent washed over him, familiar and decadent. He wanted that scent on his pillow. On his skin. It was a testament to his desire for her that he could even entertain such thoughts now, after losing a good deal of blood, his wound paining him dreadfully.
“I thought we agreed you’d call me Nando,” he gritted from between clenched teeth.
“Your laudanum first.” She flitted away, returning with the medicine in hand.
It was just as well that he take it. His cloud was dissipating, and the agony was returning. Besides, he wanted to hear his name on her lush lips. He was beginning to feel weak again, and he needed the distraction.
“Fair enough.” He accepted a measure of the bitter liquid and forced himself to swallow it down.
