Page 62 of Her Royal Houseguest

‘I did indeed.’ He waggled his eyebrows at her. ‘Your movements were most suggestive.’

They were? She frowned, trying to understand his meaning. ‘I—’ she began. Did she confess her confusion? Usually, she’d laugh and pretend she knew what he was saying. But she didn’t like pretending with him, even in so small a way as this.

He took hold of her hands. ‘I apologise. You are a virgin and I was being crude. That is unforgiveable of me.’

He was? ‘No. I—’ What? She had no idea what she was trying to say.

He tugged her hands forwards and pressed a kiss to them. ‘Tell me the truth. How do you feel about yesterday?’

She knew what he meant. But how to explain her feelings about so extraordinary an event?

‘Do you have questions?’ he prompted.

‘Yes,’ she said as relief washed through her.

‘Very well,’ he said, as he sat beside her on the bench. They were hip to hip, so close that she could smell his scent. How tempting to sink into his strength. But before she could, he lifted up his foot. ‘We will wash our feet together as we talk of things best spoken of quietly.’

Quietly or not at all! Fortunately, there was no one around. Still, she remained silent, feeling shy as he pulled off his shoes. They were made of brocade on top of a sturdy sole. No jewels but heavy fabric still not suited to tromping through London. She would have to help him purchase better footwear if he intended more walks.

He pulled them off and set them aside. She looked at his broad feet and blunt toes. How could feet be handsome? Then she realised—belatedly—that she was staring at his feet and her blush returned. Hastily, she adjusted her skirt and pulled off her slippers. She hadn’t had time to don walking boots. Or even stockings.

When the maid, Cora, had told her that Prince Deva was making demands in the kitchen, she knew that a simmering problem had just boiled over. Mrs Barker was territorial. She brooked no interference in her domain, especially in the morning when Stanier was still abed. She hadn’t thought the woman would dare confront a prince but she’d been getting worse and worse ever since Anna had bribed her the first time.

It was her fault, of course. No one else bribed their own servants to do their job. But Anna had been at her wits end and Mama refused to sack the woman. The two had become fast friends years ago and nothing could shake that connection. Not even a prince.

So Anna had quickly roused from her bed, pulling on simple slippers and a day dress before running outside. She had to soothe their guest before dealing with the housekeeper. Instead, she found he had soothed her. And now, she sat beside him, easily untying the ribbons on footwear that was now ruined. Just that little bit of walking had abraded the sole enough that they would need to be discarded.

Her father would not like that extra expense.

While she was frowning at that thought, Deva pulled up his pantaloons enough to set his large feet in the water. Leaning back, he sighed happily and even wiggled his toes.

‘This is a simple joy,’ he said. ‘Clean feet. Join me,’ he encouraged. ‘We will share.’

Put her feet in there with him? Why not? After everything they’d already done together, this was nothing. Right?

Except, as she set her feet in the basin, half on top of his, she felt as if he were touching her as intimately as he had yesterday. As if the breadth of his feet and the wiggle of his toes was comparable to what they’d already done.

It was. Because when he shifted his feet, using his toes to tease back and forth beneath hers, her entire body began to heat. Electric pulses radiated up from her toes. Especially when she teased him back.

What was she doing? Rubbing bare feet with a prince!

She giggled at the thought and abruptly pressed her hand to her mouth. She should not be giggling. And yet, how could she not? So many delightful sensations. And they weren’t even indoors!

‘Do not hide your laughter,’ he said as he gently pulled her hand from her mouth. ‘I love the sound of it.’

She wasn’t wearing gloves. She’d left the house too fast. And so she felt his calloused palm against her hand and the rough brush of his fingers.

‘You have questions?’ he said as she gazed into his eyes.

Questions? Oh! Yes! About…

Her cheeks were going to burst into flame.

‘I, um, nothing much, I guess. But…um…is that, uh, the normal way to…in your country?’

His eyes widened before he shook his head. ‘How is it that English women know so little? Without harems, who teaches you?’

‘Our husbands.’