The Leopard Prince (25 page)

“Interesting.” Oscar grinned. “Perhaps we should discuss this outside.” He took one of Wentworth’s arms. “May I assist you?” Harry asked. “Please.” Harry took the other. “Uhh!” was all Wentworth got out before they frog marched him through the doors. “I’ve got a carriage over here.” Oscar was no longer smiling. Wentworth whimpered. Oscar casually cuffed him over the head and Wentworth subsided. “I’ll take him to London and my brothers.” “Do you need my help on the road?” Harry asked. Oscar shook his head. “You’ve got him pretty far gone with drink. He’ll sleep most of the way.” They heaved Wentworth’s now-inert body into the carriage. Oscar dusted his hands. “Thanks, Harry. We owe you.” “No, you don’t.” Maitland hesitated. “Well, thanks, anyway.” Harry raised his hand in a salute, and the carriage pulled away. Oscar poked his head through the retreating carriage

window. “Hey, Harry!” “What?” “You fit in.” Oscar waved and ducked back. Harry stared as the carriage barreled around the corner.

She rolled over and stared out her black bedroom window. Maybe it was just the chill of the autumn air. A tree branch rattled in the wind. George drew the covers up to her chin. She’d found Harry’s latest gift earlier when she’d prepared for bed. A small, rather funny eel. She’d thought it a snake at first, before remembering the fairy tale. Then she could see the tiny fin running along the creature’s back. Did that complete her collection? He’d made all the animals the Leopard Prince had obtained for the princess. Perhaps it was his way of saying good-bye.

A shadow shifted outside her window, and the frame slid smoothly up. Harry Pye swung a leg over the sill and climbed into her room.

Thank goodness.
“Is that how you’ve been getting in and out?”

“Mostly I’ve been sneaking in the kitchen door.” Harry gently shut the window.

“That’s not nearly as romantic as the window.” George sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.

“No, but it’s a lot easier.”

“I had noticed that it’s a three-story drop to the ground.”

“With prickly rose bushes at the base, my lady. I hope you saw those, too.” He strolled to the bed.

“Mmm. I did see the roses. Of course, now that I know you were merely using the kitchen entrance . . .”

“Not tonight.”

“No, not tonight,” George agreed. Oh, how she loved him. His green, ever-watchful eyes. His words, so carefully chosen. “But, even so, I’m afraid it has shattered some of my dreams.”

Harry’s lips twitched. His mouth sometimes gave him away.

“I found the eel tonight.” She nodded at her dressing table.

He didn’t follow her gaze. Instead, he continued to watch her. “I have one more.” He held out his fist and opened his fingers.

A leopard lay on his palm. “Why is it caged?”

George took it from him and looked closely. The workmanship was incredibly cunning. The cage was all of one piece but separate from the leopard within. He would’ve had to whittle the animal inside the cage. The leopard in turn wore a miniscule chain about its neck, each link carefully delineated. A tiny, tiny crown hung from the chain.

“It’s marvelous,” she said, “but why did you carve the leopard in a cage?”

He shrugged. “It’s enchanted, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, but—”

“I thought you’d ask me why I’m here.” He paced to the dresser.

She’d have to tell him soon, just not yet. Not while he seemed on the verge of flight. George set the caged leopard on her knees. “No. I’m just glad you’re with me.” She poked a finger through the bars and gently moved the leopard’s necklace. “I’ll always be happy when you come to me.”

“Will you?” Harry was looking down at the carved animals.

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he murmured noncommittally. “Sometimes I’ve asked that question of myself: Why I keep coming back when I’ve already said good-bye.”

“And do you have an answer for yourself?” George held her breath, hoping.

“No. Except that I can’t seem to stay away.”

“Maybe that’s your answer, then.”

“No. It’s too simple.” He turned to look at her. “A man should be able to lead his life, make his decisions, in a more reasoned way. I said I would leave you, and so I should have.”

“Really?” She set the leopard on the little table beside her bed and propped her chin on her knees. “But then what are emotions for? The good Lord gave them to men just as much as he gave intellectual thought. Surely He meant us to use our feelings as well?”

He frowned. “Emotions shouldn’t hold sway over reasoned thought.”

“Why not?” George asked softly. “If the Lord gave us both, then surely your emotion—your love of me—is just as important as what you think about our match. Perhaps it’s more important.”

“Is it for you?” Harry began to walk back to the bed.

“Yes.” George lifted her head. “My love for you is more important than the fears I might have of marriage or of letting a man have dominion over me.”

“What fears are those, my lady?” He had reached her bedside again. He stroked a finger down her cheek.

“That you might betray me with another woman.” She leaned her cheek on his hand. “That we might eventually grow apart and even come to hate each other.” She waited, but he didn’t try to allay her worries. She sighed. “My own parents didn’t have a happy marriage.”

“Nor did mine.” Harry sat on the bed to take off his boots. “My mother betrayed Da for years; perhaps for the whole of their marriage. Yet he forgave her again and again. Until he could forgive her no more.” He removed his coat.

“He loved her,” George said softly.

“Yes, and it made him weak and eventually led to his death.”

She could no more reassure him than he’d been able to reassure her. She wouldn’t ever betray him with another man; she knew that. But who was to say she wouldn’t lead to his destruction in another way? Did loving her make Harry weak?

George studied the caged leopard. “He gets free, you know.”

He paused in unbuttoning his waistcoat and raised his eyebrows.

She held up the carving. “The Leopard Prince. He’s freed in the end.”

“Tell me.” He shrugged off the waistcoat.

She took a deep breath, and said slowly, “The young king brought the Golden Eel to the father king, just as he had the other gifts. But the Golden Eel was different.”

“It was ugly.” Harry started on his shirt.

“Well, yes,” George admitted. “But besides that, it could speak, and it was wise. When the father king got it alone, it said, ‘Tush! That weakling no more stole me than the wind did. Listen now, tell the young king that the beautiful princess will only marry the man who wears the golden chain with the emerald crown on it. Then you will have the man who has done all these wonderful things. That man and no other shall be her bridegroom.’ ”

“I’m beginning to suspect you are making parts of this fairy tale up, my lady.” Harry tossed his shirt to a chair.

George held up her hand. “On my honor as a Maitland. This is exactly how Cook’s aunt told it to me in the kitchen of my town house over tea and crumpets.”

“Huh.”

She leaned back against the headboard. “So the father king marched back to the young king and told him the Golden Eel’s words. The young king smiled and said, ‘Oh, that’s easy enough!’ And he didn’t even have to return home, for he’d brought the Leopard Prince with him. He went to the Leopard Prince and said, ‘Give me that chain that hangs about your neck.’ ” She paused a moment to watch as Harry started to unbutton his breeches. “And what do you think the Leopard Prince said?”

He snorted. “Shove it up your”—he glanced at her—“nose?”

“No, of course not.” She frowned severely. “No one talks like that in fairy tales.”

“Perhaps they ought.”

She ignored his mutter. “The Leopard Prince said, ‘Impossible, my liege, for if I remove this chain, I will soon sicken and die.’The young king replied, ‘Well, that’s a pity, for I’ve found you quite useful, but I need the chain now, so you must give it to me at once.’And so the Leopard Prince did.” George looked at Harry, expecting a protest, a comment, something.

But he simply returned her gaze and removed his breeches. This made her temporarily forget where she was in the fairy tale. She watched as he sat on the bed beside her, quite nude.

“And?” he murmured. “Is that it? The Leopard Prince dies and the young king marries the beautiful princess?”

George reached up and untied the black ribbon holding his queue. She ran her fingers through his brown hair, spreading it on his shoulders. “No.”

“Then?”

“Turn around.”

Harry arched his eyebrows, but turned so his back was to her.

“The young king presented himself to the father king,” George said quietly as she stroked her hands down his back, feeling the bumps of his spine. “And the father king had to admit that he wore the chain described by the Golden Eel. Reluctantly, he sent for his daughter, the beautiful princess.” She paused to dig her thumbs into the muscles that sloped up from his shoulders to his neck.

Harry let his head fall forward. “Ahhh.”

“But the beautiful princess took one look at the young king and started laughing. Naturally, all the courtiers and ladies and lords and the people who hang about a royal court just stared at the beautiful princess. They could not understand why she laughed.” She worked her fingers into the muscles at the back of his head.

Harry groaned.

George leaned forward and whispered in his ear as she bore down on his shoulder muscles. “Finally her father, the king, said, ‘What causes such mirth, my daughter?’ And the beautiful princess said, ‘Why, the chain doesn’t fit him!’ ”

“How can a chain not fit?” Harry mumbled over his shoulder.

“Shhh.” George pushed his head back down. “I don’t know. It probably hung to his knees or something.” She dug her thumbs into the hills along his spine. “Anyway, the beautiful princess looked around the court and said, ‘There. That is the man the chain belongs to.’ And, of course, it was the Leopard Prince—”

“What, she just picked him out of the crowd?” He twisted out of her hands this time.

“Yes!” George placed her hands on her hips. “Yes, she just picked him out of the crowd. He was an enchanted Leopard Prince, remember. I’m sure he looked quite distinguished.”

“He was dying, you said.” Harry was almost surly now. “He probably looked a right mess.”

“Well, he didn’t after the beautiful princess put the chain back on him.” George crossed her arms. Really. Men were quite unreasonable sometimes. “He got better right away, and the beautiful princess kissed him, and they were married.”

“Probably it was the kiss that revived him.” Harry’s mouth quirked. He leaned toward her. “And was the spell broken? He never turned into a leopard again?”

She blinked. “Cook’s aunt didn’t say. I would think so, wouldn’t you? I mean, that is the usual thing in fairy tales, the spell is broken and they marry.”

She was frowning thoughtfully and was consequently caught off guard when Harry lunged and captured her wrists. He pulled her hands above her head and loomed over her menacingly. “But perhaps the princess would have preferred that he remain a Leopard Prince.”

“Whatever do you mean?” George asked, batting her eyelashes.

“I mean”—he nibbled at her neck—“it might have been more interesting on their wedding night.”

She squirmed under the sensations he was arousing and stifled a giggle. “Wouldn’t that be bestiality?”

“No.” Harry took her wrists in one hand and used the other to whip off her covers. “I’m afraid you are mistaken in that, my lady.” He flung up her shift, exposing her nude legs. She spread them invitingly, and he settled his hips there, making her gasp at the contact. “Bestiality,” Harry murmured in her ear, “is congress between a human and a common animal, such as a horse or bull or rooster. Sexual activity with a leopard, on the other hand, is merely exotic.” He nudged his hips, burrowing the length of his penis between her folds and touching her just
there.

George’s eyes closed. “A rooster?”

“In theory.” He licked along her neck.

“But how could a rooster—?”

He used his free hand to pinch her nipple.

She moaned and arched beneath him, spreading her knees wider.

“You seem very interested in roosters,” he purred. Harry rubbed his thumb over her nipple.

He hadn’t moved his hips since that first time. George tried to bump hers up to encourage him, but his full weight lay heavily on her, and she realized he wasn’t going to move until he wanted to. “Actually, you could say I’m more interested in one
cock
in particular.”

“My lady.” He raised his head, and she could see the censorious frown on his lips. “I’m afraid I do not approve of such language.”

She felt a gush of erotic desire. “I’m sorry.” She lowered her eyelashes demurely. “Whatever can I do to win your approval?”

There was silence.

George began to wonder if she had overstepped some boundary. But then she glanced up and saw Harry trying to repress a smile.

He bent his head until they were nose-to-nose. “It won’t be easy to get in my good graces again.” He flicked her nipple with a fingernail.

“No?”

“No.” Almost casually he tugged the ribbon on her chemise and pulled it down. He cupped her breast in his hand. His palm felt incredibly hot. “You will have to work very hard.” He flexed his hips, sliding between her folds.

“Mmm.”

Harry stopped moving. “My lady?”

“What?” George muttered irritably. She nudged up, but he wouldn’t move.

“Pay attention.” He pinched her nipple again.

“I
am.
” She opened her eyes wide to prove it.

He moved again. Agonizingly slow. She could feel the head of his erection slipping down, almost to her entrance and then back up to kiss her clitoris.

“You want to win my approval,” he reminded her.

“Yes.” She would have agreed to just about anything he said.