“It isn’t proper for you to be so familiar with Her Royal Highness or her garments,” Eleanora forced herself to point out.
Nando just grinned, the effect deadly to her ability to resist his charm. “My dear Eleanora, when have I ever given you the impression that I give a damn about what is proper?”
“Never,” she admitted.
His grin deepened. “Then lead the way. I do so admire watching your hips sway when you walk.”
Heat crept up her throat. “Your Royal Highness.”
He leaned in to her, his lips so close that they grazed her ear as he spoke. “Don’t pretend to be scandalized, darling. My tongue was inside you last night.”
A strangled sound fled her. She felt as if she were about to have a fit of the vapors.
“This way,” she clipped, forcing herself into motion before he goaded her into doing something utterly shameful.
She stepped around his tall, elegant form and hastened down the hall, doing her utmost to keep her hips from moving in the fashion he had suggested. The nerve of the man! Had he truly ogled her from behind as she had walked? No doubt he had.
His low chuckle, far too near behind her, told her he was aware of her thoughts and her attempt to keep from giving him something to watch. She might have decided against leading him to her bedroom, but she was keenly aware of the need to keep the trousers somewhere that Princess Emmaline would not have access to them. Fortunately, she had been given a chamber that was in a tucked-away corner of the town house where they ran little risk of being seen together.
She stopped before her door and turned back to him, reaching for the trousers. “Thank you for your help, Your Royal Highness.”
“My pleasure.” He relinquished the trousers as she struggled to keep herself from staring at his lips and remembering what they felt like on hers.
Eleanora cleared her throat. “Good evening.”
She expected him to request an invitation into her private chamber. Or to offer some manner of resistance to her curt dismissal. Instead, he reached around her to open the latch and then offered her a courtly bow.
When he straightened, he held her gaze, his expression solemn for once—notably bereft of his usual endless humor and wry charm. “Come to me tonight, Eleanora.”
The low words stole her breath.
“I cannot,” she managed when she at last found the capacity to speak.
“Then I shall come to you.”
“No.” Her denial was swift and forced. “It is impossible, Your Royal Highness, and you know it.”
“There’s something I want to speak with you about,” he said, startling her by tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “A matter of grave import.”
Her mind whirled with possibilities. Why would he wish to talk with her? Was it just a ploy to have her where he could seduce her? Did she dare risk discovery a second night by obliging him?
No, she couldn’t.
“It would be a mistake for me to come to your chamber,” she told him quietly. “I must put my duties to the princesses first.”
As it was, she was on perilous ground, given Princess Emmaline’s shocking defiance. No respectable household would ever again offer her a situation if she were to be found cavortingin a bachelor’s room whilst she was meant to be guiding her charges on the principles of theton.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” he said softly.
Bemused, she watched as he took his leave, striding down the hall with the purposeful walk of a man who knew his own glory all too well.
“Vain rogue,” she grumbled to herself as she crossed the threshold of her modest chamber.
There was no way she was going to do something as foolish as seeking him out in his bedroom again. Not after what had happened last night.
CHAPTER 13
Eleanora didn’t even need to tap at the door. It swept open with surprising haste to reveal the man who had been taunting her every thought ever since they had parted several hours earlier. He was no longer wearing his evening finery but a loose silk banyan the color of aquamarines.
