How to Pursue a Princess by Karen Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page A

sounded like an order. She managed a faint smile.“I’m sure we’ll adore one another. However, you and your grandmother won’t be escorting me home, but to Floors Castle. I am a guest of the Duchess of Roxburghe.”
    His amazing eyes locked on her, and she noted that his thick, black lashes gave him a faintly sleepy air. “I met the duchess last week and she invited us to her house party. I was not going to attend, but now I will go.” His gaze flicked over her, leaving a heated path.
    Her breath caught in her throat. If the duchess has invited Wulf to the castle, then perhaps he is an eligible parti. Suddenly, the day didn’t seem so dreary. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Wulf—or whatever your name is—but who are you, exactly?”
    He shrugged, his chest rubbing her side in a pleasant way. “Does it matter?”
    “Yes. You mentioned your men. Are you a military leader of some sort?” That would explain his boldness and overassuredness.
    “You could say that.”
    “Ah. Are you a corporal, then? A sergeant?”
    “I am in charge.” A faint note of surprise colored his voice, as if he couldn’t believe that she would think anything else.
    “You’re in charge of what? A battalion?”
    He definitely looked insulted now. “I am in charge of it all.”
    She blinked. “Of an entire army?”
    “Yes.” He hesitated, then said in a firm voice, “I shall tell you because you will know eventually since Iplan on joining the duchess’s party. I am not a general. I am a prince.”
    “A pr—” She couldn’t even say the word.
    “I am a prince,” he repeated firmly, though he looked far from happy about it. “That is why her grace finds it acceptable that my grandmother and I attend her events. I had not thought to accept her invitation, for I do not like dances and such, and you English—”
    She raised her brows.
    “I’m sorry, you Scots are much too formal for me.”
    “Wait. I’m still trying to grasp that you’re a prince. A real prince?”
    He shrugged, his broad shoulders making his cape swing. “We have many princes in Oxenburg, for I have three brothers.”
    She couldn’t wrap her mind around the thought of a roomful of princes who looked like the one carrying her: huge, broad shouldered, bulging with muscles and grinning lopsided smiles, their dark hair falling over their brows and into their green eyes. . . . I fell off my horse and into a fairy tale.
    Hope washed over her and she found herself saying in a breathless tone, “If you’re a prince, then you must be fabulously wealthy.”
    He looked down at her, a question in his eyes. “Not every prince has money.”
    “Some do.”
    “And some do not. Sadly, I am the poorest of all my brothers.”
    Her disappointment must have shown on her face,for he regarded her with a narrow gaze. “You do not like this, Miss Lily Balfour?”
    She sighed. “No, no, I don’t.”
    One dark brow arched. “Why not?”
    “Sadly, some of us must marry for money.” Whether it was because she was being held in his arms or because she was struggling to deal with a surprising flood of regret, it felt right to tell him the truth.
    “I see.” He continued to carry her, his brow lowered. “And this is you, then? You must marry for money?”
    “Yes.”
    He was silent a moment more. “But what if you fall in love?”
    “I have no choice.” She heard the sadness in her voice and resolutely forced herself to say in a light tone, “It’s the way of the world, isn’t it? But to be honest, I wouldn’t be looking for a wealthy husband except that I must. Our house is entailed, and my father hasn’t been very good about— Oh, it’s complicated.”
    He didn’t reply, but she could tell from his grim expression that he disliked her answer. She didn’t like it much herself, for it made her sound like the veriest moneygrubbing society miss, but that’s what she’d become.
    She sighed and rested her cheek against his shoulder.
    He looked down at her, and to