How to Pursue a Princess by Karen Hawkins Page A

between myself and a man?”
    A slow smile curved his mouth, his eyes warming. “Ah, that is the question. Passion is not easy for some, and too easy for others.”
    “That doesn’t help. Is there a test of some sort?”
    “A test?” He looked surprised, but then he chuckled. “I hadn’t thought of them as tests, but I suppose they could be used so. For example, you might try this.” He brushed his fingertips down her bared arm, moving slowly.
    Goose bumps lifted, and a delicious tingle raced through her.
    His long fingers locked about her wrists and he tugged her forward until her chest rested against his. “Do you feel that? The tremor that passes between us?”
    She could only stare up at him and nod. Her heart stuttered in an agony of anticipation, her entire body softening.
    “That, Moya, is passion. And it is a rare, rare gift.”
    Every word stirred her more; a wanton restlessness filled her. “Th-that seems to be a very effective test. I’ll have to remember it.” She tried to move away, but he held her firm.
    “There is more. You should know it all.”
    “Oh?”
    “ Da. A kiss, Moya. If it makes your heart beat like a caged bird, then you have passion. And if not—” He slowly shook his head.
    “Those—” Her voice was so husky that she cleared her throat. “Those are good tests.”
    “You need to perform them correctly, though, if you really wish to tell.” He slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders. “We should kiss. Just as a practice.”
    A kiss? She blinked. “Wulf, that’s not—”
    “You must know. You are young and vibrant. A marriage without passion would be a fate worse than death. Think about it.” He bent so his lips were beside her ear, his warm breath on her cheek. “Years and years, cold and alone, never touched, or worse, dreading it.”
    She wet her lips nervously, torn between a shiver of intimate desire and the barren picture Wulf had painted.
    But if I want, I can try it right now, this moment. She closed her eyes, lifted up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth to his. He enveloped her, his arms slipping about her as he held her closer, his mouth moving over hers, teasing and tempting, opening her lips so that they were, finally, one.
    At the touch of his tongue against hers, a flash of heat roared through her, a delicious mix of shock and desire. She couldn’t get enough of him, enough of his touch, enough of the intoxicating feel of his hard muscles as they slid under her seeking fingers, enough of his hands molding her to him.
    His hands slipped from her waist to her hips and then lower, to cup her bottom. She moaned against his mouth as he lifted her, rubbing her body the length of his as he plundered her mouth, thrusting his tongue between her lips in an intimate dance.
    She was awash in feelings she’d never before experienced, feelings that threatened to drown her, pull her under, lose her. And she thrilled to it, feeling so alive, so—
    A servant’s voice called out to MacDougal, the sound splashing over Lily like a bucket of ice water. She broke the kiss, breathless and aching, her gaze flying to the door.
    Wulf’s gaze followed hers and he stepped away, too.
    MacDougal’s voice rose in the hallway. “Och, now, John, get the polish, fer the candlesticks need a bit o’ work.”
    A servant replied, and then silence.
    Lily took a deep breath. “Th-that was unwise.”
    “Nonsense. Knowledge is necessary.”
    She pressed a hand to her cheek, her fingers trembling. “You should go. Someone will find you here.”
    Wulf’s hot gaze swept over her. “Are you sure, Moya?”
    She wasn’t sure of anything, except that Wulf must leave now, or she might do something that would ruin her chances of a good marriage forever. She nodded. “I’m sure.”
    He sent her a regretful look. “Are you certain? I can—”
    “Go.”
    “But I—”
    “Please.”
    His lips thinned and he looked as if he might say something more, but one look at her face and he let