Free Storming the Castle by Eloisa James Page B

knew what she had to say. As if he guessed that it was to be her last night in the castle.
    Yet it wasn’t long before he pulled back. She would have been angry if she couldn’t see raw lust fighting with regret in his eyes. “I’m no Rodney, taking a maiden in the stables,” he said, reminding himself as much as her.
    If she was to execute her plan now was the moment.
    “I’m no maiden,” Philippa reminded him. And: “I need you.”
    Every inch of her body was aware of the coiled strength of his. The way he held himself utterly still, not twitching or fidgeting.
    “I wrote to my father,” she said.
    He raised an eyebrow.
    “I couldn’t allow him to worry about me any longer. It was thoughtless and unkind to give him such anxiety.” Jonas made a snuffling sound in his cradle, like a baby piglet. “My father will take me home, of course.”
    Wick made a sudden movement but stilled.
    She swallowed and looked back up at him. “He will come to retrieve me, and take me home to Rodney. That’s what he must do, because I—I was fool enough to lie with Rodney in the stables.”
    “Ah, Philippa,” Wick said. And then she was enveloped by his arms.
    “I know,” she said carefully, “that you would help me if you could.”
    He held her, warm and close.
    “If I had, if I had slept with another man, perhaps Rodney would refuse to marry me.” It sounded absurd. She gave up and started over. “If I—”
    He interrupted her. “Philippa.”
    “I know,” she said miserably. “I know you’re too much of a gentleman to do what I am asking.”
    “You are only playing at being a nursemaid, Phillipa. You will go home and be a lady again. But I have never had a gentleman’s rank. Servant or bastard . . . either one is ineligible to marry you.” His voice was fierce, as ferocious as a wolf in winter. “You ask the impossible.”
    “I’m sorry! I should never have suggested it.” Her words caught on a sob. “I didn’t think of it that way. It’s just that I thought that you . . .”
    “You knew that I desired you and thought I might help you escape from an odious marriage. I cannot have this conversation with the young prince in the room,” Wick stated. He walked across the room, bringing Philippa with him, and opened the door to the corridor.
    Her heart was breaking. It had all gone wrong. She had insulted Wick. Of course, he couldn’t do as she asked. It was as ridiculous as the idea that he should marry her. He was the son of a grand duke. She was a fool—a stupid, naive fool from a small village, and she should have stayed there. Though if you looked at it another way, he was a servant, and she was a lady. The outcome was obvious.
    Besides, her idea was ridiculous, born of desperation. Obviously Wick would never, ever, sleep with an unmarried lady—even if she had begged him.
    Her cheeks were burning, as she followed Wick into the corridor and shut the door behind her.
    But she came from strong stock, and she would not crumple. “I apologize for asking you to do something so insulting to your sense of honor,” she said, keeping her voice steady. And she even managed to summon up a wisp of a smile. “I know you are no debaucher of maidens.”
    He did not return her smile. “My father was as much. My mother worked in the castle’s laundry. I cannot, ever, act as he did.”
    Philippa nodded. “You are not like your father. And you mustn’t think twice about Rodney. I shall explain everything to my father, and I will make him understand.” She would not burden Wick with the truth: that her father would marry her to Rodney willy-nilly.
    “I could kill Rodney, if you wish. Perhaps I should do it whether you wish me to or not.”
    She blinked and saw that his eyes were entirely serious. She let out a muffled laugh. “No! Rodney is . . . Rodney is not terrible. I exaggerated the matter when I told you about him. I will tell my father that I don’t wish to marry Rodney, and that will be