Ever a Princess

  "George brought your dinner to your room?" Adam asked.

  O'Brien nodded. "Yes. On a butler's table that she handed over to me without rattling a dish."

  "You were witness to a miracle," Adam commented dryly.

  O'Brien laughed. "It's a fairly commonplace miracle." He shot a pointed look at his friend. "But I don't affect her the way you do."

  "I make her nervous."

  "Of course you do," O'Brien said. "Because you look at her as if she's the rabbit and you're the fox."

  Adam lifted an eyebrow at that.

  "And she looks at you as if you're a rabbit and she's the fox."

  "You've been paying attention."

  "I'm a Pinkerton agent," O'Brien reminded him. "I'm supposed to pay attention."

  "Yet you have no idea what the family meeting was about?" Adam poured a glass of whisky for each of them.

  "I imagine it was about you," Murphy said. "But I can't prove it. Despite my attempt to appeal to her sense of fair play."

  Adam smirked. "You're losing your touch, boyo." He handed O'Brien a glass of whisky.

  "Not quite," O'Brien retorted. "She felt sorry for me and she felt guilty about excluding me from the family gathering, but not enough to induce her to tell me what the meeting was about."

  "You tried."

  "Yeah, well, I tried to entice her into having dinner with me, too."

  "What?"

  It was Murphy's turn to smirk. "That got your attention."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about you, boyo, trying to ignore your attraction to the Valkyrie, when anyone with half an eye can see it's impossible. When's the last time you took any notice of the women I invite to dinner?"

  Adam glared at his best friend. There would be hell to pay if O'Brien found out just how attracted to the Valkyrie he was. And if Murph got wind of the kisses he and George had exchanged behind the library's locked doors, he would never let him hear the end of it. "You needn't worry about it," Adam said. "I'm sure that any attraction I might be tempted to feel for the Valkyrie will die a quick death once we return to London."

  "London?" Murphy choked on the mouthful of Scotch he'd just swallowed, coughing until his eyes watered.

  "That got your attention." Adam reached over and pounded O'Brien on the back.

  "Did you say we were going to London?" O'Brien asked in a high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like his normal baritone.

  "That's what I said."

  "Why?"

  Adam pulled a white linen envelope from the pile of mail stacked on the corner of his desk and waved it in the air. "I received a letter from Kirstin today."

  O'Brien frowned. "Is His Bastard Lordship up to his old tricks?"

  "She doesn't say." Adam pulled the letter out of the envelope and handed it to O'Brien.

  O'Brien read Kirstin's letter, then folded it and handed it back to Adam. "Any idea why she wants you to come to London?"

  Adam shrugged his shoulders. "Nope. Unless she's missing us already," he joked.

  "She saw us three weeks ago," Murphy said. "I wouldn't think she'd be missing us so soon." He winked at Adam. "But it's possible. I've always believed Lady Marshfeld harbors a tendresse for me."

  Adam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as the whisky loosened O'Brien's tongue. He had always believed that O'Brien harbored a deep tendresse for Kirstin. Not that Kirstin would ever notice since O'Brien didn't come from a prominent family or possess either fortune or title. But O'Brien had always exhibited much more patience with Kirstin than she had ever exhibited toward him or toward anyone else. She was his sister and Adam loved her dearly. Although she was the elder by two years, Adam had always felt protective of her and Greta, her twin, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for her—'including journeying to London simply because she asked him to. "You know Kirstin nearly as well as I do," Adam said. "What do you think?"

  "I think I'd better call it a night." Murphy set his glass on I he side table and pushed his chair back. "I've got some packing to do."

  Down the hall, in the housekeeper's room, an other meeting was taking place. Giana showed everyone the newspaper she'd found in McKendrick's library, passing it around the table, before she carefully folded it and laid it on the seat of one of the chairs. After everyone at the table had an opportunity to look at the article in the newspaper, Giana explained their other dilemma—that Adam McKendrick planned to open the lodge to the public—and not just any public, but the wealthy, aristocratic public. A public that could jeopardize their lives.

  Giana outlined her ideas for delaying the opening of the. lodge to guests until Queen Victoria arrived in Scotland for her Balmoral holiday. If they could delay the opening of the lodge long enough for the queen to reach Scotland, Giana might be able to request an audience with her godmother without risking her discovery by Victor's spies.

  The trick would be to delay the opening without risking their positions. Adam McKendrick meant to make the lodge profitable, and he would not allow anyone to stop him. They ran the risk of losing their jobs if they angered the McKendrick. But losing their jobs was better than losing their lives. And the risk was worth the taking.

  Giana took a deep breath, then faced her "adopted" family. Everyone had specific roles to fulfill, and each role was dependent upon the other in order that they might succeed. "We must rely on each other," Giana reminded them. "For we do not know who else to trust."

  She looked at Albert. "We must be able to read Mc-Kendrick's newspapers. As butler, you are responsible for ironing them before you give them to McKendrick. But the newspapers carry stories about us and about Karolya. You must confiscate those papers." Albert nodded in agreement. "We cannot hazard the chance that McKendrick will read ' those newspapers. We must think of a way to get them before he sees the photograph of me and puts the pieces of the puzzle together. If he recognizes me, our masquerade is over." As if • in answer to her prayers, Giana heard the soft sound of paper • ripping. She looked down at her feet to find that Wagner had pulled the newspaper from the seat of the chair beside her and was systematically shredding it. Giana smiled. Although he was nearly three years old, Wagner still exhibited occasional bouts of puppy behavior. And one of his favorite vices was f the destruction of newspapers and shoes. Her father had twice scolded her for allowing Wagner access to his office and his closets. On both occasions Wagner had chewed the toes of his

  hoots and had created a whirlwind of destruction by ripping newspapers and a batch of state papers into hundreds of tiny pieces that littered the floor of his office. It seemed her pet wolfhound adored the taste of newsprint and of the mink oil used to polish and waterproof her father's boots.

  Now Giana realized that Wagner's bad habits could aid in preventing Adam from reading his morning papers. From now on she would grant Wagner access to the newspapers.

  But doing so was not without its risks. For it meant that from now on, she and Wagner would have to bear the full brunt of Adam's wrath at the dog. She sighed. Wagner spent his life protecting her. She would learn to protect him. And she would begin just as soon as this meeting concluded. There were more newspapers on the desk in the library, and she had lo get her hands on all of them.

  Giana turned to Max. "Do you all understand what we are asking you to do?"

  Everyone nodded.

  "Good," she pronounced. "We begin tomorrow."

  The library smelled of expensive cigars, leather book bindings, the lemon beeswax she used on the furniture, mid Adam McKendrick. She tiptoed over to his desk and care-fully lifted the globe on the lamp and struck a match to the wick.

  "Returning to the scene of the crime? Or for another lesson in kissing?"

  The globe rattled against the base of the lamp.

  "Easy," Adam cautioned. "If you break that, you're liable lo set the whole place on fire." He got up from the leather sofa mid walked over to Giana.

  "How did you know it was me?" she asked.

&n
bsp; Adam gently removed the lamp globe from her fingers and placed it back on the lamp. "Orange blossoms."

  "Pardon?" She looked up at him from beneath the cover of her lashes.

  "You smell of orange blossoms," Adam said softly. "You're the only one here who does."

  "And you are the only one here who smells of sandalwood and cigars."

  "You noticed." He sounded more pleased than surprised. She glanced toward the leather sofa. "How could I not?" Adam heard the unspoken meaning behind her question. He stepped forward and opened his arms.

  She knew she should obey his earlier directive and stay away from him, knew she should stand her ground, but it was impossible to keep her distance. How could she obey his command to stay away from him when he paid it no heed? She took a step forward and found herself held firmly against his, chest as he bent his head and kissed her for the second time in as many days.

  And this time she had a better idea of what to expect and how to respond. She kissed him back, silently granting him permission to deepen the kiss. And Adam obeyed, tightening his embrace around her waist, pulling her closer until it was impossible to tell where he stopped and she began.

  Giana sighed. His kiss was everything she remembered and more. It was soft and gentle and tender and sweet and enticing and hungry and hot and wet and deep and persuasive at once. It coaxed and demanded, asked and expected a like response, and she obliged. She parted her lips when he asked entrance into the warm recesses of her mouth. She shivered with delight at the first tentative, exploratory thrust of his tongue against hers. She met his tongue with her own, returning each stroke, practicing everything she had learned in her first lesson in kissing him and began a devastatingly thorough exploration of her own.

  She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and held on, losing herself in Adam's kiss. She hadn't thought it was possible for a man's kiss to steal her heart and her soul, but she learned it was more than possible—it had happened. She wasn't just a princess anymore, but the princess in the fairy tale—sleeping for years—waiting for her handsome prince to come along and awaken her. Adam McKendrick kissed her as if she were the most desirable woman in the world and reawakened the dreams and desires Giana had put aside the night her parents were murdered.

  Adam teased. He coaxed. He promised. He held her as if she belonged in his arms. And that was exactly where Giana wanted to be.

  As he held her, Giana suddenly realized how great the sacrifice her position demanded of her. She was a princess of the I louse of Saxe-Wallerstein-Karolya. She could not marry for love if her country required that she marry for political or economic purposes. And while the Female Provision of the Karolyan Charter allowed her to marry a man of lesser rank, ii did not allow her to marry a man without a hereditary title. Nor could a female heir apparent marry without the consent of her nearest male relative, and Victor would never consent to her marrying anyone other than himself. He would see her dead first. And since he had already murdered her parents, Giana had no reason to hope that Victor would miraculously decide to spare her or the man she chose to marry. Especially an American. And Adam McKendrick was an American.

  She could not marry him. But she could love him. For as long as she remained at Larchmont Lodge and in Scotland, for as long as she remained on the earth, she could love him. (liana loosened her grip on his shirtfront and pressed her hand on his chest over his heart.

  Adam immediately broke the kiss and stepped back. He looked down at her and sanity returned. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! He was at it again! He was kissing a chambermaid. A long-legged, blue-eyed, blond chambermaid who worked for him. What was he thinking? What had happened to his code of honor? What had happened to his morals? What had happened to his sense of self-preservation?

  "I thought I told you to stay away from me," he said hoarsely.

  "You did," she whispered.

  "Then what are you doing here?"

  Giana didn't want to lie, so she told as much of the truth as possible. "I came for something to read."

  Adam stared at her as if the words she'd uttered made no sense. "Something to read?"

  Giana nodded. "Yes. That is what one generally does with books."

  He frowned. "I'm aware of that."

  She extended her arm to encompass the space around them. "Then you must also be aware of the fact that one generally reads in the library because it is the room where all the books are kept." She paused. "This room is the library at Larchmont Lodge."

  Adam glanced at floor to ceiling shelves filled with books, then rolled his eyes. "So it is."

  Giana laughed. "You are surprised? I am not like other chambermaids. My parents and the Countess of Brocavia value an education."

  He shook his head. "Not surprised, just foolish. I didn't realize chambermaids could read." He turned away from her and began scanning the titles on the shelves, noting in passing that several of the volumes that should have been shelved in alphabetical order were not. "What were you looking to read? Milton? Shakespeare? Sir Walter Scott?"

  "Newspapers," she answered, focusing on the stack on his desk.

  "Newspapers?" he parroted.

  "My duty may be to work as a chambermaid, but I like to improve my mind by keeping recent on events."

  "Current," Adam translated automatically. "Current on events."

  Giana blushed at the mistake. "Current," she repeated. "So I would like to borrow your newspapers. If you have concluded your reading of them." She held her breath.

  "I haven't started my reading of them." Adam frowned again. The words sounded strange to his ears until he realized that his speech was beginning to sound like George's. "Oh."

  Adam smiled at her. "But I'm not likely to have a chance to read them before I leave—"

  "Leave?" She interrupted. "You are leaving Larchmont Lodge?"

  "I'm leaving for London in the morning," Adam confirmed. "So feel free." He walked over to his desk, gathered the stack of newspapers in his arms, and handed them to her. Unable to Keep from touching her, Adam lifted her chin with the tip of his index finger. "Don't look so stricken, George. I received a letter from my sister in London—"

  "Sister?" It was Giana's turn to repeat his words.

  Adam gave a little self-deprecating laugh. "I have a sister," he told her. "Actually, I have four sisters and a mother." He gently tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. "That's right, George. I have a mother and three sisters back home in America and another sister in London. Did you think I crawled from beneath the cabbage plant fully grown?"

  "What about your father?" she asked.

  Adam shrugged. "I suppose he's in London, too."

  "With your sister?"

  "Nope," he replied. "With his wife and children."

  Giana wrinkled her brow, and Adam reached over and soothed them away with the pad of his thumb. "I never knew the man. He met and married my mother, a widow with four daughters, in America, then returned to England before I was born. When he learned of my birth, he sent for us, but my mother refused to give up her farm and her independence. Several years after that, he had their marriage annulled so that lie could marry someone else."

  "You never saw him?"

  "No."

  "And he never saw you? His son and heir?"

  "Not to my knowledge."

  "How sad for you!" she said. "And how sad for him! I cannot imagine never knowing my father. He was"—Giana caught herself—"is a great man."

  "Don't be sad on my account, George," Adam told her. "I've done all right growing up with a mother and four sisters." He grinned crookedly. "One of whom I'm going to visit." He leaned closer and brushed her forehead with his lips, breathing in the scent of orange blossoms and George. "But I'll be back before you know it." Adam took three steps back, then gently turned Giana around and headed her toward the door.

  "And George—"

  "Yes?"

  "Tryto keep your beast off my bed and out of my room while I'm gone. He ate the toe from one of my slippers this morni
ng."

  Chapter 19

  The Bountiful Baron is a man who knows who he is and what he wants from life. He is as comfortable in a roomful of rough miners as he is in a mansion full of millionaires.

  —The First Installment of the True Adventures of the Bountiful Baron: Western Benefactor to Blond, Beautiful, and Betrayed Women written by John J. Bookman, 1874.

  The train trip to London took ten hours from Glasgow. The first leg of the journey, the trip from Glasgow to Edinburgh, was the slowest, taking nearly four hours. The second leg from Edinburgh to London aboard an express train took a mere six. They traveled in relative comfort in first-class coaches, and Adam said a silent prayer of thanks that the express train they rode had been newly fitted with steam heat.

  After pulling into the London station, Adam and Murphy traveled by hansom cab to Lord Marshfeld's Mayfair town house. Although Kirstin had written to beg Adam to come to London as soon as possible, his visit would not be allowed to interrupt the Marshfelds' social calendar. Adam's arrival coincided with an evening musicale and reception hosted by Lord and Lady Marshfeld for the cream of London society. Adam mid Murphy O'Brien arrived in time to bathe and dress for dinner.

  "And there he is now," Kirstin Marshfeld announced as Adam descended the main staircase of the Mayfair town house and entered the drawing room. "My brother, America's famous Bountiful Baron!"

  She beamed at Adam, then at her society friends as they crowded around, politely applauding his approach.

  "Christ!" Adam muttered beneath his breath. "Now it's reached London." Murphy laughed.

  Adam greeted his sister, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "I see you're up to your old tricks, sister mine." He stepped back and studied her, peering past the subtle application of cosmetics and rice powder coating his sister's beautiful face. "Has His Lordship been up to his?"

  Kirstin glanced at her husband, who had moved aside when Adam entered the room. "He's treated me like a queen since my return to England—especially after the Bountiful Baron stories began to appear." She turned her loveliest smile on her brother. "You are quickly becoming the toast of London nearly as famous as one of Sir Walter Scott's dashing heroes. When my friends started telling me about The True Adventures of the Bountiful Baron: Western Benefactor to Blond, Beautiful, and Betrayed Women, I couldn't believe it!" she gushed. "In fact, I arranged this little soiree and invited you here because I knew I was the only hostess in London who could do so. Oh, thank you, Adam, for helping to make my party such a success."