One Night With A Prince by Sabrina Jeffries Read Free Book Online Page B

funny. Rosa is a soldier’s widow. That taught her to be fierce.”
    “Much like her mistress.” He drew her aside to avoid a footman carrying a particularly large bolt of rose satin. “God help the poor fellow who waylays you two in some dark alley. He’s liable to have his head shot off.”
    She sniffed. “Sometimes a woman has to defend herself.”
    “And sometimes, my sweet, she should allow a man to defend her.”
    “As long as that man isn’t the same one she needs defense from.”
    He shot her a seductive smile. “In which case, there are more effective ways of bringing him to his knees than shooting at him.”
    She fought to ignore the sensual pull of his dark flirtations. “As if you would know—have youever let a woman bring you to your knees?”
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    “I do it in bed all the time.” He scoured her with a wicked gaze, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “I can’t wait to be on my knees with you.”
    A vivid image of him kneeling between her parted thighs rose in her mind, shocking her. “You’ll be waiting an eternity for that,” she shot back, as much to convince herself as him. He merely laughed. The audacity of the man! Did he haveno intention of holding to their bargain? Or could he simply not help trying to seduce any woman within reach? Well, it wouldn’t work with her. She refused to let his flirtations make her imagine what he’d be like in bed. Or wonder if he would be gentle or rough. If he would leave her feeling vaguely dissatisfied afterward the way Philip always had—
    Oh, Lord, how could she even think about such things with her husband freshly in the grave? Byrne drew her into the nearby dining room out of the way of the trooping footmen. Glancing around, he caught sight of a portrait over the mantel that she’d brought with her from Rosevine. His eyes narrowed.
    “Your father?”
    “How did you know?”
    “The uniform.” He smiled. “And the resemblance. You have his fierce green eyes and stubborn chin.”
    “Thank you,” she said, pleased. Most people said she looked nothing like Papa, because he was tall and gaunt, with gray-streaked chestnut curls utterly unlike her long, dark locks.
    “Does he know about your scheme?”
    She eyed him warily. “How could he? He’s fighting the French right now.”
    “But you didn’t write him.”
    “I thought it best not to bother him.”
    “And Prinny?” Byrne lifted one eyebrow. “When he learned that your ‘property’ had been sold, why didn’the approach your father?”
    Because there was no time. In one month, Lord Stokely would make good his threats unless she stopped him. It would take a month at least just to reach her father and bring him back to England. But if she told Byrne that, it would raise more questions in his too-inquisitive mind. So she shrugged. “I suppose His Highness thought it best to deal with me, since it wasmy husband who sold my family’s property.”
    Byrne flicked her a glance. “If your father did know of your scheme, what would he think of it?”
    Trying to ignore Papa’s stern eyes staring down at her, she clasped her clammy hands together, and lied.
    “I have no idea.”
    “I doubt he’d approve of your sacrificing your reputation for ‘family property.’”
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    “With luck, he won’t hear of it.” But of course he would. And no, he wouldn’t approve. She was his
    “little soldier,” his “Bel-bel”—he would want no man sullying her good name. But what use was her good name when his was about to be destroyed? She refused to watch “Roaring Randall” be vilified in the papers as the man responsible for the greatest scandal in royal history. Worse, as the prince had pointed out, if the letters weren’t retrieved, Papa might very well hang for treason. How could she take that chance?
    Papa should never have kept those