Read Online Pleasuring the Prince by Patricia Grasso - Free Book Online Page A

her to the sofa in front of the black marble hearth.
    Sitting in the prince’s drawing room made Fancy uncomfortable. She had never ventured inside a man’s home, and her virtue had been guarded as diligently as that of any society debutante.
    Appearances meant everything. Society believed that sitting alone in the prince’s home was as immoral as lying in his bed. Her reputation would be ruined if anyone discovered her presence here.
    “Relax.” Stepan reached over and patted her hand. “Did you apologize to Patrice Tanner?”
    “I wasted my time.”
    “What did she say?”
    “Patrice asked if I’d come to see the dressing room I coveted.” Fancy gave him a disgruntled look. “I noticed her mirror is much larger than mine and crackless.”
    Stepan smiled at that. “I am proud of your apology,” he said, “but I thought the person receiving the apology was required to accept it.”
    His puzzlement surprised her. “Your Highness, have you ever apologized to anyone?”
    “Hmmm…” The prince stared into space for long moments before answering. “I do not believe so. At least, I cannot recall any apologies.”
    Fancy smiled at his admission, and he returned her smile. She knew he had no idea what was amusing her.
    Bones and two men of gigantic proportions marched into the drawing room. All three carried trays, which they set on the table near the sofa. One tray held a bottle of clear liquid, two tiny glasses, and plates with silverware. The other two trays contained bite-sized morsels of food, none of which Fancy had ever seen before, except the bread, cheese, and sausage.
    “Thank you, Bones. We will serve ourselves.”
    “Ahem…” One of the men cleared his throat, drawing the prince’s attention.
    “Fancy, I present Feliks, my chef, who traveled from Russia.” Stepan introduced them, and then gestured to the larger of the two. “And this is Boris, Feliks’s brother, my sometime bodyguard.”
    “I am pleased to meet you.” Fancy gave both burly Russians a polite smile.
    Feliks grinned. “Prince say you sweet songbird, huh?”
    Stepan chuckled at her blush. “Miss Flambeau does sing at the opera.”
    Boris spoke up then. “Krusseevy dyevuchka.”
    “He said ‘beautiful girl,’” Stepan whispered, leaning close. “Tell him spasseeba , thank you.”
    “ Spasseeba , Boris.”
    The big Russian grinned at her and nodded. “You good pronounce.” Then he followed Feliks and Bones out of the room.
    “How difficult life in England must be for Feliks and Boris.” When he raised his brows, Fancy added, “I mean, their lack of English limits communication.”
    Stepan burst into laughter. “After living in London for five years, Feliks and Boris speak English very well. They pretend otherwise when it suits them. Which allows them to eavesdrop on gossip.”
    “This is vodka.” Stepan poured the clear liquid into the tiny glasses. “The food is zakooska .”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means—” The prince shrugged. “Vodka means vodka, and zakooska means zakooska .” He passed her a glass, instructing her, “Do not sip the vodka. Gulp it down in one swallow.”
    She lifted the tiny glass to her lips, but the prince stopped her. He passed her a wedge of Swiss cheese. “Eat this after you gulp the vodka.”
    Fancy drank the vodka in one swig, and then regretted it. She coughed and wheezed, the liquid fire stealing her breath and burning a path to her stomach.
    “Eat the cheese.”
    Eat the damn cheese?
    Fancy looked at the smiling prince through vision blurred by tears of distress. The coughing and wheezing ceased, but the fire inside left her gasping.
    “The vodka does not agree with you.” Stepan patted her back solicitously until her gaze cleared and he recognized the murderous glint in her eyes. “Are you hungry?”
    Her violet gaze narrowed on him. “Dead women do not eat.”
    “I apologize for failing to warn you about the vodka’s strength.” Stepan gave her his most