The Ice Princess by Elizabeth Hoyt Read Free Book Online Page A

journeyed through forests and mountains, tundra and bare ice, tramping along with a bag
    over his shoulder and worn boots upon his feet. He was attacked by lions, chased by bandits, and spent the night with more than one wise hermit. And
    as he neared the Ice Princess' palace he began to hear her song, high and sweet, and so very, very lonely. . . .
    --from The Ice Princess
    Coral glanced into the mirror and smoothed her already perfect coiffure. She'd waited on innumerable men in her career, but for some reason, the wait
    tonight for Isaac was making her as nervous as a cat strol ing through a pack of dogs.
    She let her hands fal on a sigh of frustration. Oh, why not admit the truth? Isaac wasn't like al the other men she'd lured and ensnared over the years.
    Isaac was important.
    Which was perhaps why she'd cut short their tête-à-tête last night in an uncharacteristic fluster. She just didn't know what to make of the man. How to act,
    how to present herself. He seemed to see right through her usual wiles— damn him. He made her feel wretchedly gauche, and at the same time the mere
    sight of him caused her heart to jump and skitter, made her lips curve in a sil y smile.
    Good Lord, she was turning into a ninny.
    A discreet knock came at her door and she whirled, that idiot smile attacking her face. She fought it back fiercely, took a deep breath, and glided across
    the room to open the door. The sight of Isaac's grave, handsome face was like a physical blow. He wore his naval uniform—
    crisp white, dark blue, black, and gold—and his black hair was pul ed back into a severe queue. Her heart started skittering, whether she wil ed it or no, a
    tempo that increased, keeping time with her mounting excitement. She wanted to muss his uniform, take apart that tight queue and run her fingers through
    his hair. And why not? Wasn't that the inevitable conclusion to this game they played? Why not simply accept fate?
    The only problem would be to keep herself intact as she gave into her urges. She knew she trembled on the edge of an abyss, and if she fel ... wel , there
    would be no climbing out of that particular pit. But she pushed that thought aside as she stood back to let him in. She'd bedded many men in her lifetime.
    He was just one more.
    Now, if only she could convince her heart of that.
    He threw his cloak over a chair and started to speak, but she was done with their dancing. She stepped close to him and, standing on tiptoe, reached up
    to bring his face down to her level.
    She kissed him.
    Ah, this was better. A part of her calmed at the touch of her lips on his, even as her belly clenched in need. His lips were firm yet supple, yielding to her
    pressure without surrendering. She was surprised—
    and a little embarrassed—by her own moan. It was the man who was supposed to yearn and lose control. She was the Aphrodite. She was immune to
    sexual heat.
    Except that with him she was not.

    She pul ed back at the thought, suddenly frightened. Isaac looked down at her, his lips a little reddened by their kiss, but his eyes stil alert and watchful. As
    if he merely waited for her next move. The sight piqued her. He should not be more calm than she. She'd make him feel, damn him, she'd make him lose
    control.
    She reached up and pulled his queue forward across his shoulder. Then she unwound the inky black strands, spreading them, sifting them with her
    fingers, playing like a cat with string. Al during this he stood silent and stil and let her tease. When she was done she fanned his unbound hair over his
    shoulders and examined him. He looked like a pirate—in a naval officer's uniform. She frowned at his clothes and untied his black neckcloth, pulling it
    free. She threw it to the floor, prompting a frown from him.
    That hint of disapproval delighted her.
    She attacked his coat and waistcoat next, throwing the one on the bed and the other perilously near the fire, but he was stubbornly impassive. He began
    to crack,