(Legend of the Four Soldiers, #5) The Ice Princess by Elizabeth Hoyt

Author:Elizabeth Hoyt [Hoyt, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

So the soldier set off for the home of the Ice Princess. He journeyed through forests and mountains, tundra and bare ice, tramping along with a bag over his shoulder and worn boots upon his feet. He was attacked by lions, chased by bandits, and spent the night with more than one wise hermit. And as he neared the Ice Princess' palace he began to hear her song, high and sweet, and so very, very lonely. . . .

--from The Ice Princess

Coral glanced into the mirror and smoothed her already perfect coiffure. She'd waited on innumerable men in her career, but for some reason, the wait tonight for Isaac was making her as nervous as a cat strolling through a pack of dogs.

She let her hands fall on a sigh of frustration. Oh, why not admit the truth? Isaac wasn't like all the other men she'd lured and ensnared over the years. Isaac was important.

Which was perhaps why she'd cut short their tête-à-tête last night in an uncharacteristic fluster. She just didn't know what to make of the man. How to act, how to present herself. He seemed to see right through her usual wiles—damn him. He made her feel wretchedly gauche, and at the same time the mere sight of him caused her heart to jump and skitter, made her lips curve in a silly smile.

Good Lord, she was turning into a ninny.

A discreet knock came at her door and she whirled, that idiot smile attacking her face. She fought it back fiercely, took a deep breath, and glided across the room to open the door. The sight of Isaac's grave, handsome face was like a physical blow. He wore his naval uniform—crisp white, dark blue, black, and gold—and his black hair was pulled back into a severe queue. Her heart started skittering, whether she willed it or no, a tempo that increased, keeping time with her mounting excitement. She wanted to muss his uniform, take apart that tight queue and run her fingers through his hair. And why not? Wasn't that the inevitable conclusion to this game they played? Why not simply accept fate?

The only problem would be to keep herself intact as she gave into her urges. She knew she trembled on the edge of an abyss, and if she fell . . . well, there would be no climbing out of that particular pit. But she pushed that thought aside as she stood back to let him in. She'd bedded many men in her lifetime. He was just one more.

Now, if only she could convince her heart of that.

He threw his cloak over a chair and started to speak, but she was done with their dancing. She stepped close to him and, standing on tiptoe, reached up to bring his face down to her level.

She kissed him.

Ah, this was better. A part of her calmed at the touch of her lips on his, even as her belly clenched in need. His lips were firm yet supple, yielding to her pressure without surrendering.

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