“Why should I? You aren’t wrong. But you see, I’m too complacent to change my ways.”
She sat at last, her reluctance obvious. “Someone ought to shake that complacency.”
“I wouldn’t be averse to your trying. Perhaps you might administer corporal punishment. Wait until my wound heals,however, if you please. I have no wish to lose any more blood today.”
“You’re the most peculiar man I’ve ever met,” she grumbled. “I’ll not be administering any punishment to you, corporal or otherwise.”
“Oh, but I think I might enjoy it if you did. I’m a wicked man, and I ought to be punished.” His tongue felt fat now, the laudanum fully taking hold, his head floating, the pain in his upper arm blessedly diminished.
He should rest as the eminently wise Eleanora had advised him. He’d been shot, for God’s sake. But he didn’t want to close his eyes and surrender to the abyss. He wanted to stay awake, talking with her. Looking at her. She pleased him greatly. Everything about her, from her stiff spine to her lush mouth.
A flush had stolen over her cheekbones at the insinuation in his words.
“Your Royal Highness, I’ll ascribe your unseemly suggestion to the laudanum. It must have addled your wits and loosened your tongue.”
She folded her hands primly in her lap.
“Admit it, I charm you,” he said, because he couldn’t seem to help himself.
Weariness was drawing over him, but he would fight it. He wanted to spend the night basking in her husky voice.
“I find you as charming as a rash,” she told him curtly.
“A compliment if I’ve ever heard one,” he said, unperturbed.
Because she didn’t fool him. Hedidcharm her. She wanted to be insusceptible to him; that much was apparent. But beneath her cool façade, Miss Eleanora Brett could be tempted. His intuition in such matters never failed him.
And Nando intended to use that weakness in his favor.
CHAPTER 5
Eleanora woke with a start to inky darkness.
At once, she was aware that something was amiss. She was seated upright instead of lying comfortably in the bed she’d been provided, and her surroundings were unfamiliar. Where was she?
Realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.
Somehow, she must have fallen asleep in the chair at the prince’s bedside. A host of unanswered questions flitted through her sleep-fogged mind. Had no one thought to wake her? To check on his condition?
The candle that had been lit had long since sputtered out, leaving them cloaked in the shadows of night. The remnants of a banked fire smoldered in the grate across the room, serving for a pitiful source of illumination.
Her gaze instantly went to the still form of the prince. He had fallen into the depths of slumber from the laudanum she’d persuaded him to take. And she had remained at his side for a moment, thinking that she would rest until a servant arrived to take her place. It must have been the upheaval and shock of the day that had rendered her so exhausted that she’d fallen asleep.
Concern for him instantly sliced through her.
How was he?
She had no wish to disturb his rest, and yet she needed to know. As quietly as she could manage, Eleanora rose and hovered over his bedside, gently laying a hand over his brow to detect whether he had a fever.
His skin didn’t feel hot. But she couldn’t account for the jolt that shot through her at touching him. It felt forbidden.Dangerous.It felt impossibly, erroneously right. As if he were hers to touch and tenderly care for. But that was as foolish as it was impossible. The Prince of Varros belonged to no woman.
She snatched her hand away, telling herself she needed to collect her wits and flee this room at once. Because her reputation was all she possessed, and it was without reproach. She needed to preserve it at all costs. She had neither lineage nor wealth to rely upon. Not even youth, for she was approaching her thirtieth year. She had only herself and the lone skill to which she steadfastly clung—that of churning out marriageable ladies, even though Eleanora herself would never be a bride.
She turned to take her leave.
“Don’t go.”
The low rasp was so unexpected that she paused and spun to face him in the darkness. But there was also a note of underlying pain in his voice that made her linger when every other part of her knew she ought to flee.
