The Impostor Prince Read online

  Och, what was wrong with him? He was a fine braw lad, wasn’t he? Why wouldn’t Claire want to marry him?

  He found her door, intended to knock, but somehow forgot and pushed it open. “Hey hinnie,” he said. “Did ye miss me?”

  Claire sat upright, crying out, startled by the intrusion. “Merrick?”

  “Iss jus me,” he reassured her, tripping across a small rug.

  “Merrick!” she exclaimed as he stumbled forward onto her bed. “What are you doing? Get up! You can’t stay here. This isn’t seemly!”

  He rolled over onto his back, lying across her bed, grinning. “I came tae gi’ ye a wee bitty gift.”

  “You’re jug bitten!” she accused him.

  “Nah,” he proclaimed, slapping his chest. “I jus hadda wee dram is all.” And he pinched his fingers together, holding one eye closed as he tried to show her the amount.

  He was more than a trifle disguised, Claire realized.

  Botheration! She’d spent most of the day sobbing since speaking to his father. She had been praying, hoping, Merrick would return with good news, so she might tell them both to keep their blessed money…so that she might do what her heart urged her to do.

  Obviously, Merrick had spent the entire day and night deep in his cups.

  She glowered at him. “Where have you been?”

  “Chasing a verra verra bad man,” he explained, and closed his eyes, slapping both hands on his chest.

  Her ire faded a bit at his explanation.

  Suddenly, he lifted up one hand, and said, “Gad! I hope I didn’t kill your present!”

  “You brought me a present?” Claire couldn’t keep the surprise from her tone.

  “Aye, lass.”

  She didn’t really want to care that he’d thought about her, but she did. It pleased her immensely. Curiosity got the best of her. “What did you bring me?”

  He grinned a lopsided grin and gingerly opened up his coat pocket to search inside. Spotting what he was looking for, he slid his fingers within to retrieve it. “Look…it’s a butterfly!” he exclaimed, holding it up for her inspection.

  He seemed proud of his captured prize.

  Claire squinted to better see it, and tried hard not to laugh, but she couldn’t suppress a smile. She wasn’t entirely certain she should tell him the truth, but she couldn’t resist. “It’s a moth.”

  He frowned. “Nah, my love, it’s a wee butterfly!”

  He’d called her my love.

  It was nothing more than drunken babble, but it tripped her heart nevertheless. She reached out to take the poor insect from his fingers. The moth was still, it’s wings turning to powder. She didn’t have the heart to tell Merrick it was already deceased. “Thank you,” she said and meant it. “It’s lovely.”

  “You are lovely,” he whispered.

  Despite the chilly night air, warmth spread through her body, creeping up into her cheeks.

  He was staring at her, smiling crookedly, looking at her as though his heart were right there in his eyes, and Claire suddenly felt acutely aware of her lack of dress.

  She set the dead moth upon the nightstand.

  She knew she should ask him to leave, but she really didn’t want him to go. Not yet.

  “There is so much I want to tell you…but I jus can’t …”

  “You don’t have to say anything at all,” Claire assured him.

  It wouldn’t matter anyway, she lamented. Soon enough, it would all be over. Then he could choose a bride his father would approve of and she and Ben would return to their ordinary lives. The thought devastated her.

  Who would have thought she’d grow to love the arrogant knave lying beside her?

  They stared at each other.

  Moonlight sifted in through the window. Diffused through billowing drapery, it fell across Merrick’s face. Lying as he was, his lashes cast long shadows over his magnificent cheeks and his hair shone like spun silver. He was beautiful. She would sorely miss that crooked smile and sharp wit. And she would crave his kisses long after the taste of his mouth and the warmth of his touch had faded from her memory.

  “I suffer a ringing in my head that’ll not cease to torment me,” he blurted.

  Claire cocked her head at him. “Are you ill?”

  “Aye,” he said. “I am, lass. I’m addicted to your mouth…your lips.”

  Claire’s cheeks burned. “What has that to do with the ringing in your head?” she asked, ignoring the tiny thrill his admission gave her. But she couldn’t contain her smile.

  “Something about cannons and kisses,” he muttered. “I read it in a…book…once. Only now I understand what it means.”

  She was relieved he understood what it meant, because she didn’t comprehend a single word coming out of his mouth. Still, she was glad he’d come to her. They wouldn’t have many more opportunities to be alone together. Tonight might be the last time.

  “What time is it?” she inquired.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No,” she confessed.

  “Very well, then. I’ll stay, if you insist.” He grinned. “But only if you’ll kiss me.” He closed his eyes and puckered his lips.

  Claire laughed, reaching out to caress his cheek with the back of her hand. “Silly, silly man.”

  He seemed to be waiting for his kiss, and then his face relaxed. He blew a hearty sigh that ruffled the hair on his brow and she knew at once that he was asleep. She bent forward, touching her mouth to his lips. He didn’t stir.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He didn’t respond.

  Tears pricked at her lids. And, for a long moment, she simply stared at his face, trying to imagine how things might have been.

  He began to snore.

  Claire considered waking him and asking him to leave, realizing that her reputation would be at stake if she were to allow him to remain. But at this moment, she really didn’t care. When all was said and done, she didn’t think she would ever love anyone again. This feeling had accosted her just when she’d thought her heart was immune.

  Adjusting her pillow beside him, she laid her head down and set her hand upon his chest, closing her eyes, feeling safer lying next to him than she’d felt in all her life. When she was old and gray, she would recall this moment and there would be no regrets. She thought of the moth lying at her bedside and smiled a bittersweet smile. She fell asleep with Merrick’s heart beating soundly beneath her palm.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ian awoke to the sound of smooth, even breathing not his own. Claire was lying beside him…as it should be…as he wanted it to be for the rest of his days. He knew her scent without opening his eyes. Roses and woman.

  His head ached, but his groin ached more.

  Lord, he wanted her.

  The blood rushed into his loins as he thought of taking her. His heart began to pound as he thought of burying himself between her sweet thighs.

  He opened his eyes.

  It was dark.

  She was like a chimera curled up beside him on the bed, her beautiful face buried against the pillow, the moonlight lucent against her white gown, revealing everything and nothing at all. As she took each slumbering breath, her breasts teased his arm. His palms ached to cradle the plump little delicacies.

  Heaven help him, she should have asked him to leave. Now, he was afraid it was too late.

  He was a bloody rotten hound for coming to her so late, as though she were no more than a bit of muslin. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. Like a siren’s song, her presence under the same roof was a temptation he couldn’t resist.

  He didn’t want to resist her.

  He gently pushed the pillow off his shoulder, trying not to disturb her sleep. He considered leaving, but he was powerless to stop himself from bending to touch his lips against her mouth. The taste of her was like manna to his starving soul.

  He hardened fully and his trousers grew tight as he watched her sleep. Her face was lik
e that of an angel, her lashes long against pale cheeks. Her hair was free. He’d never seen it undone. Like dark silk, it spread across her breasts and spilled over the white sheets. Enthralled, he reached out and twirled a strand between his fingers, wondering if her mons would be so silky soft.

  He wanted to taste her.

  All he wanted was to give her pleasure.

  As though it had a will of its own, his hand reached out to cup one breast and she moaned at the touch, rising toward it instinctively.

  It was more than Ian could bear.

  He wasn’t strong enough to walk away tonight. And why should he? If she didn’t want him to love her, she could ask him to leave and he would go.

  Her nipple pebbled beneath his hand and he groaned inwardly, trying not to wake her. Not yet.

  He loved her. Her skin, her body, her mouth, her hair…everything about her, including her incredible wit.

  “Claire,” he whispered, knowing he shouldn’t touch her without permission, but afraid she would ask him to leave.

  She stirred, murmuring. The sound made him throb.

  “Claire …”

  Claire awoke to the shocking weight of a hand on her breast. He squeezed softly, sending lightning currents throughout her body, stirring something wicked deep inside her. His touch made her body convulse in places she’d never known existed. Her breath quickened and she swallowed, afraid to protest lest he go, afraid not to protest lest he think her a wanton.

  “Claire,” he whispered again.

  Her heart tripped, but she ignored him, not wanting him to realize she was awake.

  His hand paused over her pounding heart, as though to measure its beat. And then again his hand squeezed her. Claire arched into his touch, desperate for something she couldn’t name.

  Without warning, his hand fluttered down her belly, toward her private place, and lower, to the hem of her night rail. He lifted her gown slowly and Claire’s heart slammed against her ribs.

  Stop him, her conscience railed.

  Heaven forgive her, she didn’t want to.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as he lifted her gown, sliding it up her thigh until she was revealed to him. And then he descended upon her, his warm mouth embracing her in a kiss that sent her pulse skittering. She cried out in shock as his tongue slid into her body, dancing within. Her body clenched around his tongue as it swirled deeper. Instinctively, she leaned toward his caresses, her leg shifting to give him better access.

  It was wicked…so very wicked…but so very wonderful…

  Ian groaned with pleasure as she spread her legs for him, letting him feast on her body.

  She was warm, sweet, silky…

  He hardened fully and he pressed himself against the bed, trying to imagine what it would feel like to penetrate deep into her body. She was tight around his tongue and he nearly unmanned himself as he thought of sinking into the velvety depths of her.

  Her sweet, feminine perfume filled his nostrils and the taste of her dizzied him.

  “You are luscious,” he told her, devouring her, his heart hammering. “So luscious!” he declared. And then he couldn’t speak any longer. He dove into the depths of her, lapping, sucking, tasting. He didn’t know how to say it, but he begged her to hear what his heart and his body were trying to tell her…that he cherished her.

  Reaching up, he kneaded her breasts while he buried his tongue deeper inside her. She was wet and ready for him. When she didn’t resist and, instead, whimpered and arched into him, he pulled himself upward, needing to look into those green eyes.

  They were wide and drunk with pleasure.

  Claire swallowed.

  She was thrilled by the desire on his handsome face, the glint in his blue eyes. His lips shone, wet from his kisses. The sight of it made her shiver painfully.

  “If you tell me to go,” he swore. “I’ll go.”

  She shook her head and he growled low in his throat, pulling her gown up over her head and stripping it off. “I want to see you, Claire.”

  Claire couldn’t deny him.

  She didn’t want to deny herself.

  Something had begun to ache deep within, something she knew only he could cure.

  “Do you understand what this means?”

  Claire nodded. She understood that she was giving him something precious and that after tonight, it would be gone and that there would be consequences.

  He reached down and touched her where his mouth had caressed her and bent to whisper into her ear. “This is mine. Only mine. Do you understand?”

  Again, she nodded, her breath constricted within her breast. She couldn’t imagine giving herself to anyone else.

  “Say it,” he commanded her.

  “It’s yours,” she swore.

  He rewarded her by slipping a finger inside her body, swirling it gently, and she whimpered with pleasure, throwing her head back. “Yes,” she cried softly. “Oh, Merrick…”

  Ian was beside himself with lust. Even the sound of his brother’s name on her lips didn’t temper his desire.

  Damn his head and damn his conscience.

  Tomorrow, he would make everything right.

  He unbuttoned his shirt and kicked off his boots.

  Tonight, he wanted only to bury himself deep inside her, feel her body tighten around his shaft.

  He undid his trousers, freeing himself, then pinned her hands above her head, kissing her breasts, her neck, nibbling at her flesh, undulating against her belly, letting her feel his arousal against her bare skin. He wanted her to fully comprehend what it was he was about to give her. If she wanted him to stop, now was the time to say so.

  When she didn’t protest, he shed his trousers and positioned himself lower, seeking entrance to her body. His shaft glistened with the evidence of his own desire. She lifted her hips, inviting him in and he groaned, shifting upward and thrusting into her.

  She cried out and he stilled, shuddering, his brain fogged with pleasure. Ignoring his own body’s demand to stroke himself between her sweet petals, he kissed her lips, her chin, her eyes, her throat, until he was certain her pain had eased.

  Claire’s fingers pulled at the soft curls on his chest, reveling in his bare male flesh.

  He had begun to fill her but had stilled, teasing her with the promise of more.

  She clung to him, tears slipping from her eyes. And then, just as quickly as the pain had appeared, it vanished, and she needed him deeper still. She curved upward to tempt him, crying out when he answered her plea, plunging inside her.

  “Claire,” he rasped, and then slid his hands beneath her bottom, holding her, thrusting harder and harder.

  It was like nothing Claire had ever experienced before.

  It was like nothing she had ever imagined.

  He drove inside her again and again, harder and harder, until his body reached its culmination and she could feel it pulse deep inside her.

  Crying out, she spread her legs wider, arching into him, needing her own release. Pleasure shattered within her. Her body convulsed. She clung to him, unable to speak, unable to stir. Tears streamed from her eyes. Without a word, he withdrew and rolled onto his back, groaning with satisfaction as he pulled her atop him.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll make this right,” he swore.

  Claire’s heart squeezed, because tomorrow promised only pain. Still, tonight, she didn’t have to think about that. Tonight, she was still lying atop him and she wanted only to make believe the morning would never come.

  She laid her head on his chest, while he caressed her back, his hand combing through her hair.

  She lay atop him so long that she felt him stir once more, growing hard between her thighs and her heart beat a little faster.

  “Can we do that again?” she asked a little timidly.

  He chuckled. “Again?” he asked.

  Claire lifted herself up and peered down into his eyes, nodding.

  “I believe I can accommodate you,” he said, grinning. He reached out a
nd lifted her, settling her back down upon his hardened shaft.

  “Oh, my!” she cried out.

  She hadn’t thought she could feel him any deeper.

  “Ride me, Claire,” he commanded her as he undulated beneath her. Claire answered his rhythm with her own, matching his deliberately slow stroke.

  “Oh, my,” she sighed, and sat upright, bending backward to accept him more fully, the need for communion making her bold.

  “That’s my girl,” he encouraged, reaching up to stroke her breasts.

  “I want to do this again!” she whispered. “And again!”

  He laughed and patted her on the bottom, grinning boyishly. “Patience, lass, we haven’t even finished this one yet. There will be many, many more opportunities.”

  He didn’t understand. There would be no more opportunities, she wanted to tell him. But she closed her eyes and refused to be saddened. She had this moment, and memories of this bittersweet union would carry her through a lifetime.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “You can’t keep me here!” Ben shouted, rattling the cell bars in desperation.

  He hadn’t had a bloody bath in nearly two months and his own stench was beginning to rival the stink of the prison. The pungent scent of urine filled his nostrils and the squeak of rats screeched in his ears until he thought he would go mad.

  He’d never realized people could live, and die, in such squalor. Just yesterday, a man was discovered lying dead in his own feces.

  “How many times ha’ ye been told?” a cellmate called out. “This is Fleet, boy. They can do whatever the hell they want. Now, get some sleep, will ye? Ye’re keeping the lot of us awake.”

  Ben reared back and rammed the cell door with his entire body, screaming out in frustration.

  Damn it.

  The bloody worst of it was that he didn’t even know how he’d ended here. He’d been in engaged in a card game—and had won, damn it all! After a long losing streak, where he’d nearly lost everything, he’d won. He banged the cell door again. The sound of it reverberated throughout the prison.

  “Shaddap, ya bleedin’ infant!” another cellmate demanded from somewhere down the dark, rank corridor.