Beauty and the Earl Page 2

  “Tell your man to release me.”

  “Cousin Amber?”

  Bottoms dropped her arm as if it had scorched him. Amber dashed across the foyer, threw herself into her cousin’s arms, and wept uncontrollably.

  “Prepare a bedchamber with a hot bath,” Prince Rudolf instructed the majordomo. “Then serve my cousin a hot meal in my study.”

  The majordomo hurried away.

  “Protect me from Fedor,” Amber sobbed.

  Prince Rudolf held her close. “Is Fedor with you?”

  Amber shook her head. “I have run away.”

  “You traveled across Europe alone?”

  “I dressed like a widow so no one would bother me,” she said. “Fedor will come after me. You must hide me.”

  “I will protect you,” Rudolf promised, guiding her across the foyer.

  With his arm around her, Rudolf helped her up the stairs to his second-floor office. He led her to the settee near the hearth and then poured a shot of vodka.

  “Drink this,” he ordered. “You will feel better.”

  Amber gulped the vodka, shuddered as it burned a path to her stomach, and then set the glass down. “I need a husband. Can you find me one?”

  “Start at the beginning and leave nothing out,” Rudolf said, putting his arm around her. “Then we will speak about husbands.”

  “I overheard a conversation between Fedor and Gromeko,” she began.

  “Count Gromeko?”

  “Do you know the count?”

  “I have heard of him.”

  “Gromeko persuaded Fedor to sell me to him,” Amber said, her eyes blurring with tears, her complexion scarlet with embarrassment. “The count owns a slave with my coloring. He proposed to mate me like a broodmare with this slave and sell my babies.”

  “Sweet Jesus, I regret not taking you with me when I left,” Rudolf said, his grip on her tightening. “You are safe now. My brothers will also protect you. Wait until I tell them—”

  “Do not tell anyone,” she cried. “I am too ashamed.”

  “The shame does not belong to you,” Rudolf said, “but we will keep this our secret for the present.”

  “I will not feel safe until I am married and pregnant,” Amber told him. “Can you find me a husband?”

  Rudolf gave her an indulgent smile, as if she were still the little girl he pampered. “When you recover from your journey, my wife and I will take you into society, where you will find your own husband.”

  “I need a husband now,” she insisted. “Fedor and Gromeko will come after me.”

  “I do know an earl who needs a wife,” Rudolf said, “but the gentleman’s face was badly scarred in a fire.”

  Amber lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “Scars do not frighten me. I will marry this earl if he will take me.”

  Chapter 2

  “My lord?”

  Letting the drapes fall into place, Miles turned at the sound of his majordomo’s voice. The overcast day conspired with the drapes to shroud the Long Library in darkness. Even the hearth fire in the middle of the room failed to throw light to the far ends of the chamber.

  “Yes, Pebbles?”

  “Prince Rudolf Kazanov requests an interview.”

  “Escort the prince to me.”

  Walking toward the door, Pebbles shouted, “Come on inside, Your Highness.”

  Out of habit, Miles touched his mask and started to cross the library. A smile of greeting lit his expression when he saw the prince.

  “Good to see you,” Miles said, shaking his hand.

  “You did not expect to see me so soon,” Rudolf said, with an easy smile.

  Miles inclined his head. “You must have ridden through the night to reach Stratford by noon.”

  “I arrived late yesterday but passed the night at the Black Swan Inn.”

  “You should have come directly to Arden Hall,” Miles said, ushering him across the library toward his desk. “I would have welcomed an overnight guest.”

  “In that case, I regret my decision not to intrude on your privacy.”

  Miles gestured to the chair in front of his desk. The Russian prince sat but then hesitated, as if searching for something to say. Such hesitations boded ill.

  “I hope you carry no bad news,” Miles said. “We haven’t lost our shirts in speculation?”

  “Our profits are rising with each passing day.” Rudolf paused a long moment before continuing, “I need your help with a personal matter.”

  The prince’s statement surprised Miles. His own personal life had ended in a fire four years earlier. How could he help someone else with a personal matter when he couldn’t help himself?

  “I will help you if it is within my power.”

  “Princess Amber Kazanov, my cousin, recently arrived from Russia,” Rudolf began. “She needs a husband, and since you need an heir—”

  “No.”

  “I promise there is nothing wrong with her,” the prince continued, smiling at the negative response. “All Moscow hails Amber as its most beautiful woman.”

  “Why would such an acclaimed beauty marry me?” Miles asked, his tone bitter. “Is she pregnant?”

  Prince Rudolf looked insulted. “My cousin is a virtuous woman.”

  “Beauty and virtue mixed into one woman?” In spite of his sarcasm, Miles knew the prince would not lie about his cousin’s virtue. A spark of curiosity flickered to life, surprising him, misery having been his constant companion for four years.

  “Amber has lived with my father since the deaths of her parents,” Rudolf told him. “She ran away from a disturbing situation and landed on my doorstep.”

  “The princess traveled alone across Europe?” Miles asked, surprised.

  Rudolf inclined his head.

  The spark of curiosity fanned into a flame. Miles knew no woman with the courage to do that. “What kind of disturbing situation?”

  “The choice to share the reason belongs to Amber,” Rudolf answered. “The situation is quite serious, though.”

  If she wasn’t pregnant, what could be so serious? Had her uncle disappointed her by refusing to increase her pin money? Young females were notoriously flighty, but no well-bred woman traipsed across Europe on a whim.

  “My answer is still no.”

  “Every man wants an heir to carry his name and make him immortal.”

  “I died four years ago,” Miles said. “I am acquainted with my own mortality.”

  “Your loss is immense,” Rudolf sympathized, “but surely, speaking with the princess will do no harm.”

  “As a favor to you, I will speak with her,” Miles relented, trying to put an end to the topic of remarriage. “Bring the princess to Stratford in a couple of weeks.”

  “There is no need for that.” Rudolf grinned. “Princess Amber waits in the corridor.”

  The wily Russian had outsmarted him. Miles didn’t know if he should laugh in amusement or shout in anger. Though irritated, he couldn’t keep his lips from twitching with the urge to laugh. On the other hand, he did want to satisfy his curiosity about this royal beauty offered to him in marriage.

  “Does the princess speak English?”

  “I taught her myself.”

  “Then I will speak with her. Alone.”

  Miles touched his mask when Rudolf stepped into the corridor but then realized the princess would be unable to see him in the dark corner. He would frighten her and send her running from the library. That would effectively put an end to this foolishness.

  Still wearing her hooded cloak, a petite woman stepped into the library and paused when she saw no one. She whirled around, startled, when the door clicked shut behind her, the hood of her cloak slipping off her head with the sudden movement.

  Miles sucked in his breath. Cascading to her waist like a curtain of silk, her thick mane of silver-blond hair captured his attention.

  Princess Amber peered into the enormous chamber’s dark corners. “My lord?”

 
; Miles liked her voice. Soft. Musical. Seductive. Like silk caressing flesh.

  “Walk to the hearth, princess,” Miles instructed her. “I want to see your face.”

  The princess crossed the library to the hearth. She moved with the easy grace of a dancer. Her poise in the face of uncertainty spoke of her cultured upbringing, her confidence in herself and her royal station in society.

  Miles stared at her perfect features. Framed by her hair, her angel’s face was delicately sculptured and heart shaped. He wondered what color her eyes were.

  Miles felt a tightening in his groin. He could almost see that silky mane splayed across his pillow. This was a woman who would heat any man’s blood.

  “My lord?” the princess called, sounding uncertain.

  Though her expression remained placid, Miles noted her hands fidgeting at her sides as if she didn’t know what to do with them. First he would frighten her and make her weep. Then he could return to the comforting solitude of his misery.

  “My lord, did you wish to speak with me?” she called again.

  “Are you pregnant?” Miles demanded in his sternest voice.

  His question shocked her but not the way he expected. “I am a virtuous woman,” Amber announced, insulted by his question.

  How dare this disembodied voice accuse her of immorality? What gave this man the audacity to assume she possessed no honor? The earl possessed a low opinion of himself if he believed only a woman of low character could possibly seek a match with him.

  “I apologize for offending you.”

  Amber lifted her chin a notch. “You do not sound sorry.”

  “Why do you need a husband?”

  “With all due respect, my lord, that is none of your business unless we reach an agreement.”

  She heard a smothered chuckle from a dark corner of the library. Relief that he had not taken offense swept through her.

  “Tell me about yourself,” the earl said.

  “I am the only child of Prince Rozer and Princess Natasha Kazanov,” Amber said. “People tell me I resemble my mother.”

  “That merely identifies you,” Miles said, purposely prolonging their conversation before he sent her running in fear.

  More perfect than an artist’s idealized masterpiece, her beauty compelled him to keep her with him, beguiled him to study her face, beckoned him to step closer. He controlled himself, though.

  “I do not understand what you want to know, my lord.”

  “Tell me something personal about yourself.”

  Amber knew she needed to close the distance between them. He would never marry her if he remained hidden in the darkness.

  “I dislike dust, Christmas, and speaking to disembodied voices,” she told him. “Show yourself. Please.”

  Hearing movement from the darkness, Amber doubted the wisdom of her request. The man had been scarred by fire. She needed to keep her face expressionless. If she cringed, he would know, and all would be lost.

  Her heartbeat quickened at the sound of him crossing the room toward her. A large form took shape just beyond the light cast by the hearth fire. The earl was a tall man.

  “Princess?”

  Relieved that he had paused in the shadow, Amber wet lips gone dry from nervousness. The earl sounded like a normal man. Which encouraged her.

  “Your height startled me.”

  “Why would my height surprise you?”

  “You fit very neatly in that dark corner.” The hint of a smile touched her lips, and she sensed him smile, too.

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty. And you, my lord?”

  “Thirty-two . . . I understand the reason you dislike dust,” Miles said. “Why do you dislike Christmas?”

  Amber stared into the shadows and wished she could see him. “Christmas makes me feel lonely.”

  “A beautiful young lady like yourself would celebrate with family and admirers.”

  How could she reply to that without revealing too much of herself? She needed to be truthful, but the earl might decline to marry her if he knew her sordid origins. On the other hand, withholding information was not a good way to begin married life.

  “My father murdered my mother on Christmas,” Amber told him, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then he killed himself. I lived with Rudolf’s father after that.”

  An awful silence filled the library while the earl digested what she had said. Amber worried her bottom lip with her white teeth. Was the earl watching her? What was he thinking?

  “Had your father become unbalanced?”

  “My father murdered my mother because of me,” Amber admitted. “He killed himself to escape punishment.”

  Miles couldn’t credit what she had told him. “Why do you blame yourself for your father’s actions?”

  Amber squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a notch. “I am not Rozer Kazanov’s daughter but the unacknowledged bastard of Czar Alexander.”

  “And?” He sounded almost bored.

  And what? What did he want to know?

  “No secrets should exist between a man and his wife.” Amber hoped her words were the correct approach to earn his respect and, perhaps, a marriage proposal. “I wanted you to know my shame before you made a decision.”

  “The shame does not belong to you,” Miles said, his sentiment encouraging her.

  “I have told you what I dislike. Do you want to know what I like?”

  “I will live on tenterhooks until I do.”

  Sarcasm tinged his voice, but Amber missed it. “I love the feel of silk, the scent of grass, and the sound of children’s laughter.”

  “How about the sight of hideous scars?”

  Amber had no idea what to say to that. At a loss for words, she decided that silence was the best reply.

  “Is there anything else you would say to me?”

  “I dislike people who hide in shadows when I speak to them,” Amber said, knowing all would be lost if he refused to show himself to her.

  “Ah, a woman with wit.”

  “Do you like women with wit?”

  “I dislike them immensely.”

  Silently, Amber cursed her mistake. What should she do now? Gauging his mood was impossible unless she could see him.

  “How do I know what I will be getting?” the earl asked.

  “I do not understand, my lord.”

  “Your face is perfection,” he said, “but what are you hiding beneath your layers of clothing?”

  Without saying a word, Amber shrugged her cloak off and let it fall to the floor. She reached around to unbutton her gown to the waist and then pushed one side down, baring an alabaster shoulder.

  “Stop.”

  Her hands stilled in an instant

  “What are you doing, Princess?” Amusement tinged his voice.

  Amber felt her face flaming with her embarrassment. “I am showing you what will be yours.”

  The dark shape stepped into the light and became a man wearing a mask on one side of his face. He had handsomely chiseled features, full lips, a straight nose. The corner of his mouth on the masked side of his face drooped slightly.

  Amber noted all of that in less than a second and then looked into his eyes. Dark and intense, his gaze held hers captive. She stood motionless when he reached to touch her bare shoulder. Merely a hair’s breadth from her skin, he dropped his hand to his side.

  “Cover yourself,” the earl ordered, his voice hoarse.

  Another mistake. Amber dropped her gaze and adjusted her gown.

  “Are you afraid of this face?”

  Amber lifted her gaze to his. “No, I fear you will reject me.”

  Something flickered in his dark eyes and then vanished. “I can never love you.”

  Amber felt like weeping. All she had ever wanted was a husband’s love and children, a family of her own. She would live without love if he married her. What choice did she have? She could almost feel Fedor’s and Gromeko’s breaths on the back of her ne
ck.

  “You may remain at Arden Hall,” Miles said, his invitation surprising himself. “We will decide later if you go or stay permanently. Is that acceptable?”

  Amber smiled with relief and inclined her head. She felt safe for the first time in months.

  Miles lifted her hand and pressed a kiss on it. His lips were warm, making her tremble with excitement. Several men had kissed her hand before, but she had never felt like this.

  “Do you fear my lips on you?” he asked, gazing into her eyes as if he could see into her soul.

  “I have never kissed a man,” she confessed.

  Miles cocked his head to one side. “No young swain has stolen a kiss?”

  “I protected my honor with vigilance.” Her pride was evident.

  “Beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous,” Miles said, a sardonic edge to his voice. “My luck must be changing.”

  Amber missed his sarcasm. “A bastard must be especially careful about her reputation. If not, someone will paint her with the same brush as her mother.”

  “Call your cousin, and tell my man to attend me,” Miles said, dismissing her. The princess was much too beautiful and amenable. He needed to distance himself, or his body would betray him.

  Prince Rudolf returned to the library, the majordomo following behind.

  “You will be passing the night here?” Miles asked the prince.

  “I regret I will begin my journey to London within the hour,” Rudolf answered, glancing from the earl to his cousin.

  “Princess Amber will be staying,” Miles told his majordomo. “Escort her to a bedchamber and send Molly to help her get settled.” He looked at her. “Go with him, Your Highness. I am certain you will want to refresh yourself.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Amber turned to Rudolf, who drew her close. “Cousin, thank you for your help.”

  “You are safe for the time being.” Prince Rudolf dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I will see you soon.”

  Amber followed the majordomo out of the library and up one flight of stairs. He led her into an enormous bedchamber, much larger than her room at home.

  The chamber was light and airy and smelled of lilacs, its mullioned windows overlooked the garden. A four-poster bed, its textiles in shades of blue and white and gold, stood along the wall opposite the windows. On the wall to the right of the bed was the hearth.