Before he could react, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pressed his mouth back to hers. The kiss was hard and unyielding, and his mouth opened to hers in hungry welcome. He grabbed her waist and pressed her against him. She had the body of an athlete and the soft curves of a woman. His hands explored her back in a slow burn, while her hands ran through his hair.
This was bliss.
Ecstasy.
Oblivion.
He’d been kissed many times before. Every señiorita seemed eager to kiss a prince. But his previous experiences were nothing on this kiss. It felt like the wild thrill of jumping off a cliff and into the ocean. He was falling down, down into dark, unknown waters. Drowning in her kisses. One kiss became two, until the number was too great to count or too difficult to remember. He didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.
Eventually, she pulled her head back before brushing her lips, gently this time, against his swollen ones.
“I’m Nora.”
He couldn’t help but smile against her soft lips and whisper, “Matteo.”
The princess stiffened, pushed him off, and stepped back. Her jaw dropped and she looked at him in what appeared to be horror. But why? They had already been legally married, and the ceremony in Sania was only going to be a formal celebration before the consummation, something he was definitely looking forward to now.
She took a few more steps away before bowing. “Prince Matteo, I am not who you think I am.”
His face went fiery as he held out his right hand. “You are my wife.”
She shook her purple hair. “My cousin and I both have the same name: Eleanora. Elea is the heir, and I’m the spare.”
Matteo stumbled back as if he’d been stabbed by her sword.
* * *
Nora
“What was all that commotion about?”Elea asked grumpily, her head partially covered by her pillow. She was a small purple speck in an enormous canopy bed with crimson silk coverings. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since we sailed for Sania.”
Nora closed the arched window behind her and locked it. “There was someone in your courtyard. I went to investigate.”
Her cousin sat up and pulled the covers up to her neck. “Not another assassin!”
Nora shook her head, but Elea’s green eyes were still wide with fear. She appeared younger than her twenty years. At one time, Nora would have put an arm around her cousin and attempted to comfort her. But not now. The gulf between them had grown as large as an ocean. She dare not even sit at the foot of her cousin’s bed. They were not on such intimate terms.
“Only a besotted prince,” Nora said.
Placing her dagger on the dressing table, she took off the scabbard around her shirt and began to undress. There was a small trundle bed in the corner of the room for her. She was only her cousin’s companion, after all, the daughter of a princess, not a king.
“You saw Prince Matteo.”
“Yes,” Nora answered tersely. The less Elea knew about the kiss, the better it would be for all their sakes. Stripping down to her short shift, she climbed under the light covers of her bed.
“Was he handsome?”
She gritted her teeth. Matteo was beautiful, with all the lean muscles and sinews of a fighter. He tasted of sandalwood and sweat. He was everything that was foreign and forbidden. Yet she’d lost herself in their kisses. . . . If only she weren’t the spare cousin. If only Nora had met him before he’d been married to Elea for the treaty. But such thoughts were pointless. What was done was done. Any chance for them had been over before they even met.
“Very handsome,” Nora finally said.
In the dim light, she saw Elea pull her covers tighter against her chest. “What did he say? I want to know every word that passed between you.”
Nora could only roll her eyes—the Princess Royal of Urka was back with her demands. “Nothing much.”
Elea got out of bed and walked toward her. “Something else happened. You stink of guilt!”
“I smell of sweat. There was a fight,” Nora admitted. “I didn’t recognize the prince and we fought a friendly duel.”