The Ice Princess (Princes #3.5)(18)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

Here he may have let his iron control slip a bit for he found himself kissing her again, devouring her mouth like a starving man presented with a loaf of bread. When he raised his head again he saw with some satisfaction that her cheeks had pinkened and she was looking a bit dazed. He almost smiled, but he restrained himself in time.

“Explain yourself, madam.”

“I-I…” For a moment her cat-green eyes were dazed, but then they narrowed in suspicion. “How did you find me?”

Her mode of attire might have changed, but her wit obviously had not. He leaned close, her nearness warming his heart. “I’ll tell you how I found you when you tell me what was going on in that pretty head of yours when you abandoned me—”

She stiffened. “It wasn’t abandonment—”

“After a night of sublime lovemaking,” he continued, “which, I think most would agree, would lead any man to believe our relationship had taken on a permanent basis. I think I could successfully bring a suit of breach of promise against you—”

“Oh!”

He bent and bit her ear gently. “Therefore, I would be most grateful if you would give me a reason for causing me such heartache.”

When he raised his head again she was looking contrite. “I never meant to cause you heartache, Isaac.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Her color heightened. “I didn’t! You must know that we could never be together for very long. We—”

“Why not?” His words were clipped as he felt his ire rise.

She gaped at him—and then began to laugh, though the sound was a little desperate.

Isaac contemplated kissing her again—or simply taking her here on the cliffs, but they needed to have this conversation in order to move forward. And besides, it was a chilly day.

So he simply waited until her gasping laughter quieted and then raised his brow again.

Her mouth turned down at the sight, the corners bitter and lined. “I’m a whore.”

“Were.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were a whore,” he enunciated clearly. “But no longer.”

She shook her head as if the past tense was trifling. “You are a respectable man. A man whose entire career could be ruined simply by association with me.”

She stopped and glared at him.

He nodded encouragingly, but she simply stared at him, looking rather frustrated.

“Is that it?” he asked politely.

She threw up her hands. “Is that it? That’s everything, I should think! I left because I could not bear the inevitable severing of our relationship. I left because we could never be.”

“You left because you had a cowardly moment,” he replied drily. She opened her mouth in outrage, but he placed a finger over her lips. “My turn, I think.”

She closed her mouth and glared at him, mute, her arms cross.

“One,” he said, ticking his points off on his fingers. “You are no longer a whore. Two, you wore a mask, you little idiot—no one will recognize you if you don’t tell them your past. Three, I love you. Four, you love me. Five…”—He tapped his thumb against his chin—“Well, I really don’t have a fifth reason, but I should think the first four are sufficient.”

“But—!”

He smiled benevolently down at her. She really was quite lovely with her cheeks pinked by the wind, and he much preferred her simple white dress to the gaudy things she’d worn at the Grotto. “To answer your first question, I found you because of your sister’s portrait–remember you had her miniature on your dresser?”

She nodded, looking not a little distracted.

“Well, I had quite a lot of time to contemplate the matter whilst I was at sea. The minute I made port I went to the Grotto and talked to Billy. He sends his regards, by the way. He told me that you had received regular letters from an address in Essex. I tracked down the address, talked to your sister—she sends her love as well—and voila! Here I am.”

He watched her open her mouth once more as if to argue. “Ah, ah! Do you have any more questions for me?”

She shut her mouth, frowned quite charmingly, then said grudgingly, “No.”

“Good.” Isaac reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring he’d been carrying about for six long months. Though he had met warships in battle at sea, though he’d faced down maddened pirates, he noted with one part of his mind that his fingers actually trembled.

He dropped to one knee and stared up at the woman he loved. “Will you marry me, Coral Smythe?”

Epilogue

At the Ice Princess’ words the soldier threw back his head and laughed. “Have I not just given you my heart? Come with me and be my bride and we shall live in blissful happiness all the days of our lives.”

He held out his hand. The Ice Princess took it and gladly for she’d had enough of her icy throne.

And the soldier and the Ice Princess did indeed live happily ever after.

–from The Ice Princess

Coral lifted her face, feeling the salt spray hit her lips. The wind was playful today, the sun shone brightly on the turquoise waves, and the Challenger rode the sea like a porpoise.

“We’ll make Gibraltar in another day,” Lieutenant Green said beside her.

Coral turned and smiled at him, watching in some amusement as the young man’s face suffused with red. He couldn’t be more than nineteen.

“How exciting, Mr. Green,” she murmured. “Have you seen the rock yourself?”

“Me? Oh, no, ma’am.” The poor man’s ears were fiery now. “Of course the Captain has been there many a time. But this’ll be my first.”

He stopped suddenly as if fearful of babbling on too long.

Coral took pity. “Then you must be as excited as I, Mr. Green. Would you care to join the captain and me at dinner tonight? We shall both bombard him with requests for his recollections of his visits to Gibraltar.”

The lieutenant’s eyes widened. This was his first voyage on the Challenger and it was something of an honor to be asked to dine at the captain’s table.

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Green,” came a deep voice from behind them.

The young lieutenant whirled, snapping to attention. “Sir!”

Isaac’s black eyes were impassive. “If you’re to dine with Mrs. Wargate and me tonight you’d best see to your linen.”

The boy blushed again, darted a look at his cuffs—which were sadly dingy—and darted off with a strangled, “Aye, sir!”