Once Upon a Moonlit Night by Elizabeth Hoyt

Author:Elizabeth Hoyt
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2016-07-05T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“I think that John is a prince in disguise,” the queen said, and the king, who had been dozing, woke with a start.

“What? What?” The king scowled. “Surely not.”

The queen gave him one of those looks. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t know how you’ll find out,” the king retorted. “Can’t just ask him—he’ll be bound to say he is a prince whether he is or not.”

“You forget the parsnip test,” the queen replied.…

—From The Prince and the Parsnip

* * *

It was late afternoon when Hippolyta was woken from a doze by the jolt of the carriage.

She opened her eyes dazedly and realized that she was leaning against a warm male form. “What—?”

The arm holding her tightened briefly and then Mr. Mortimer drawled in a deep voice, “You looked ready to tumble onto the carriage floor.”

“Oh.” She yawned and peered out the carriage window. They seemed to be coming to a city. “Where are we?”

“Leeds,” he said. “I think we’ll stop for the night.”

She nodded, not bothering to move, though she knew she should. It was completely inappropriate for her to be lying here in Mr. Mortimer’s arms. But then it was completely inappropriate for her to’ve shared a room with him, to’ve shared a bed with him, to’ve done almost all the things she’d done in the last three days.

She found she simply didn’t care.

No one knew who she was here. There was no need to worry about her posture, to parse her words. No one cared who she was or where she came from. It was wonderfully freeing.

And besides. She liked feeling Mr. Mortimer’s hard hot body next to hers. That admission was completely inappropriate as well. Would she even have made it a fortnight ago? She wasn’t sure. Perhaps all that had happened since had changed her in a profound and permanent way.

Or perhaps it was simply Mr. Mortimer.

The thought was disconcerting and Hippolyta pushed herself upright just as the carriage rolled to a stop.

“Wait here,” he said, getting up. “I’ll see if there’s room.”

Mr. Mortimer stepped from the carriage and shut the door behind him.

Hippolyta stared down at her hands. Leeds was nearly halfway to London—or so she thought. Eventually they would arrive home. And then? Perhaps she’d never see him again.

No.

She inhaled. No. Even if he was simply a cartographer, she would…would ask him to call on her. There. Papa had started life as the son of a vicar. He might’ve made his fortune since and been knighted, but Papa would understand coming from a humble beginning. She was nearly certain.

The carriage door opened again and Mr. Mortimer stuck his head back in. A lock of sun-streaked hair had escaped from his tie and she had an urge to push it back from his forehead. “We have a room.”

She firmly clasped her hands and beamed at him. “Oh, good. Let me just find Tommy.”

He shook his head. “Leave him for now. I’ll take you in and then come back for him.”

She stood and held out her hand.

He frowned at it and then glanced back at the inn yard.

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