Princess Charming (40 page)

Lucy blushed, and Nick realized what she’d thought. He stilled. “Am I truly such a cad, then?”

“No,” she whispered, her eyes luminous. “No, you are not.”

The moment was suspended between them, as fragile as crystal. Nick looked into her amazing eyes, and for the first time since the debacle in Nottingham, he felt hope blossom in his chest.

Lucy reluctantly did as he instructed. She placed the blond wig that had been tucked inside Crispin’s hat upon Tom’s head and then tied a kerchief around his mouth to gag him.

“You will be welcome in Santadorra,” Nick added from the corner. “You and all the Nottingham reformers. The solicitor has instructions to provide you with funds for travel.”

Tom, since he was gagged, made no reply, merely nodded in Nick’s direction and gave him a broad wink.

Crispin stood watch at the door. “The guard is coming.”

Outside, a nearby clock tower chimed the hour. Lucy felt as if she might be sick. Nick stepped toward her. “Are you sure you can do this?”

“How can I not?” Lucy rubbed her hands against the leather of her breeches. “You and Lord Wellstone have exceeded the very heights of deviousness. I would not be the one to be the failing of such a foolproof plan.”

Nick regarded her intently with his chocolate eyes. “I only hope it will work as we envisioned.” He adjusted Lucy’s cap, lowering it over her eyes, and she tingled at his nearness. She had been so busy trying to transform Nick into someone he was not that she had failed to see the man he was, but in the confines of Newgate, her eyes had been opened.

The door to the room swung open, and Nick stepped away from her. “Come along, boy,” he commanded in such stern tones that Lucy jumped. The guard laughed and gave her a shove as
she passed by him and into the corridor. Lucy saw Nick’s fists clench at his side, but he said nothing.

“The boy ‘as to return to ‘is cell now,” the guard said to Nick’s back. He cuffed Lucy on the ear. Nick paused, glanced back, and Lucy wondered if he might lose control, but he only shrugged and continued walking.

“Take him, then.” Nick waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve no more need of the lad.”

Lucy’s heart clenched as
Nick and Lord Wellstone continued down the corridor, but the guard grabbed Lucy’s elbow and pulled her down a side passage. It took every ounce of strength not to wrest her arm from the man’s grip and flee after Nick, but she mustered her courage and played the part of Tom Selkirk. In no time at all, she found herself returned to the common area of the prison. The guard shoved her into a room—heavens, but she was tired of being thrust about—and she fell to her knees. Rough hands jostled her, and she looked up to see the faces of an entire room full of men glaring at her.

Lucy fought panic. Before she could open her mouth to speak, a slim figure emerged from the group. He was dressed in breeches, black shirt, and cap identical to her own. “Let me ‘elp you, boy.”

Lucy gratefully accepted his assistance, and he pulled her to her feet. “Now, then,” Mr. Cartwright’s pupil said with a cheerful, crooked grin, “shall we begin?”

THE PLAN HAD been predicated on the belief that even Lord Sidmouth did not employ enough spies to follow all of Mr. Cartwright’s climbing boys through the corridors of Newgate.

Nick had made her memorize the complicated routes and patterns of their charade. It had not been easy to do, in the few moments before the guard had returned to her room, but she had managed. Now she mumbled them to herself as
she slipped in and out of the various chambers, each time trading places with another of Mr. Cartwright’s boys who was “visiting” someone in the cell. The identical black shirts caused no notice as Lucy wove her way from one room to another. Nick had given her sufficient gold for her own bribes, which she slipped into the bulging paws of guards who locked and unlocked doors. Before long, she was just another of a swarm of climbing boys who had descended on Newgate that day to visit parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Each of the boys gave her a smile and a press of the hand for luck as they performed their intricate minuet the length and breadth of the prison, and Lucy would have defied Sidmouth himself to keep track of which boy was which. Finally, leaving the last cell behind, she hurried toward the main gate and, at the gruff signal of one of the guards, emerged onto the street. She dared not stop to look about, although her heart was beating like thunder. With a long sigh at the warmth of the sun on her face after four days within the prison, she turned her steps eastward.

NICK PACED THE length of the carpet in the familiar fairy bower at Madame St. Cloud’s. He had wanted to wait a short distance from the prison with a carriage, but Crispin had insisted they leave Lucy to find her own way. They had gone to far too much trouble to escape notice to rouse suspicion with the sight of a climbing boy clambering into a hackney.

He glanced at the casement clock and wondered if it had stopped. Twice, he strode to the window to survey the street below. Once, he saw a flash of black dart along the pavement, but he couldn’t be certain it was her. At long last, footsteps sounded on the stairs, and he heard women’s voices. He tried to convince himself that it was only two of Madame’s girls preparing for their role in the daring plan, but he could not squelch the hope that rose unbidden.

The door swung open, and Madame entered the room, followed by Lucy. She pulled off her cap, shaking out her golden curls, and Nick’s breath stopped. God help him, but he loved her.

“Henny will assist you with your bath,” Madame said to Lucy, the two of them ignoring Nick as if he were a sofa instead of a husband. “The servants will bring up the water
immediatement.
”

“Thank you, Madame.” Lucy pressed the older woman’s hands between her own. Nick wished that the Frenchwoman would simply leave. He wanted Lucy in his arms as soon as
possible. Not for nefarious purposes, although he did cast a longing look toward the incredible bed. That would have to wait. No, he merely wanted to reassure himself she was all right.

Madame left, and the door clicked shut behind her.

“Well done, princess.” He stayed where he was by the window, not wanting to rush his fences.

“It was a brilliant plan.” She smiled shyly, and his heart lurched. “If it weren’t for your generosity, we could never have rounded up enough climbing boys to succeed.”

“It’s not finished.” Nick knew the dangers that still lay ahead. “We still must reach Portsmouth.”

“We will.” She seemed almost unnaturally quiet for Lucy Charming. That worried Nick. The servants knocked at the door and brought in the water to fill the hip bath behind the screen in the corner.

“I’ll go,” Nick offered when the servants had left. The scent of rosewater permeated the room, and Nick’s imagination needed no prompting to envision Lucy naked in the bath, her skin covered with soft lather.

“No. Stay.” Lucy spoke the words so softly Nick thought he might have imagined them, but when she looked him boldly in the eye and began to remove her clothing, he knew he had not.

“Lucy, don’t torment me,” he breathed, and she smiled with pleasure, damn her eyes.

“You lied,” she reminded him, and he nodded, wary.

“I did.”

“To protect me?”

“Only in part.” He shifted his stance to disguise the effect of her body on his own. The woman did love to torture him.

“And the other part?”

“I think you know.” Why was she toying with him? He was afraid she had only accepted his help because she had no other choice.

“I have hopes, but I need you to speak the words.”

Nick’s breath caught in his throat, and for the first time, he dared to believe that the smile curving her lips hinted at the future—their future. “You are a hard woman, Lucy Charming.”

“Quite the contrary.” She grinned cheekily. “I think I’m very soft.” To demonstrate, she removed the last of her clothing and stood before him in all her nakedness. Nick tried to swallow, but his throat would not cooperate.

“There’s only one point on which we need clarification,” Lucy said, and Nick wished she would quit talking. He stepped toward her. Was there room enough for both of them in the hip bath? Perhaps he would content himself with merely watching her bathe. Perhaps he would assist her by rubbing the scented soap over her body until she arched with pleasure and cried out in release. Yes, that thought held definite appeal.

Lucy swatted his hands when they came too close. “Let us be in perfect accord about one thing, Nick. I won the wager.”

He groaned, grabbed her, and pulled her against him. “Yes. Yes. You won the blasted wager.”

“And the men and women of Santadorra will receive the vote when you are king.”

“Yes. The men will receive the vote. Now, can we quit talking?” He caught her head between his hands and proceeded to angle her mouth so that he could slake his thirst for her. She pressed a finger against his lips.

“And the women?” she prompted.

“The women may take a bit longer. Now be quiet, princess. We’ve very little time, and I have no desire to waste it on something as frivolous as
conversation.”

“No desire?” She pressed against him, and he groaned. “I wouldn’t say that, Your Highness.”

To his delight, Nick discovered there was room for both of them in the hip bath, provided they were joined in the most intimate of ways. Later, when the water had cooled, he lifted her from the bath, led her to the bed, and scooped up something from beneath the pillows. Lucy eyed him curiously. “What’s that?”

Nick extended the object forward, allowing it to dangle from his hand. “I believe you are familiar with these?”

With a squeal of delight, Lucy snatched the wrist irons from his fingers and proceeded to clamp them around both his wrists.

“Lucy! Wait!” Nick protested, but it was too late. She held him prisoner, and he would not have had it any other way.

“I love you, Lucy Charming,” he whispered when she had pushed him back into the pillows and was pressing kisses to the side of his throat. His manacled wrists rested uncomfortably between them, but he didn’t mind. It was a bondage he had chosen, both literally and figuratively.

“Of course you love me.” She slid her way down his body, kissing him as she went. Nick waited for her to repeat the affirmation, but instead she tortured him by trailing her tongue across his stomach.

“Lucy!” He tried to sound regal and commanding, but she simply smiled and slid her body back up along his until her lips were a mere inch from his own.

“You deserve to be tortured, you know.” She moved against him.

“Yes, well, you’re doing a more than adequate job. Now tell me, by Jove. Do you love me or not?”

“What do you think, Your Highness?” With only the briefest of kisses on his lips, she began to work her way down his body once more until he thought he might die from pleasure.

Nick accepted that answer as a yes.

UNFORTUNATELY, there was little time to linger in the luxurious chamber. Lucy stretched, her body tingling with pleasure, and climbed from the bed. She enjoyed Nick’s eyes upon her as she crossed the room and disappeared behind the screen. A yellow muslin walking dress and spencer hung on a peg. Lucy donned the garments and pinned up her hair. By the time she emerged from behind the screen, Nick had dressed as well and was pulling on his boots.

“Are you ready, then?” He looked at her hungrily, and the strength of his gaze made Lucy shiver.

“Yes.”

Ten minutes later, they had gathered in the foyer with a bevy of young women, all dressed in matching primrose gowns. Mr. Cartwright’s aging seamstresses had managed to ply their needles one last time.