The Ice Princess (4 page)

"Yes, thank you," Isaac replied pleasantly.

The woman's suspicious expression eased fractional y at his tone. "I can bring you some hot water, too, if you'd like."

He nodded. "You're not used to men staying the night?"

"I'm not used to them staying at al ." The maid snorted. "Herself doesn't bring men to her rooms."

His jaw tightened. "She entertains them elsewhere in the Grotto?" The maid shot him an unreadable look. "I'l be getting that coffee and water, sir." She

slipped from the room.

Isaac rose, finding and using the chamber pot. The maid was protective of her mistress' secrets, which said something about how the servants viewed

Aphrodite. The worth of a naval captain could always be told by how his sailors spoke of him. When the maid returned with his breakfast. He ate, shaved,

and donned his hat and cloak before leaving the Grotto. He had important business to see to if he wanted to play with Aphrodite tonight.

Nearly ten hours later Isaac tramped back up the street to Aphrodite's Grotto. He could've hired a chair to bear him, but after months at sea he welcomed

the chance to stretch his legs.

Even if it was in the most notorious part of London.

The big man Aphrodite had identified as Bil y stood by the doors to the Grotto tonight. He eyed the smal satchel Isaac carried, but merely nodded. "She's

awaitin' you in 'er rooms."

Isaac gave the man a coin and entered the entrance hal . His heart beat like an ensign boarding his first ship.
Hold hard, son, she's a whore
, he reminded

his surging libido. She might not entertain gentlemen in her rooms, but she certainly entertained them somewhere i n the Grotto. She was the brothel's

madam, after al .

Yet oddly the thought did not lower his anticipation. Whore or not, he was looking forward to seeing Aphrodite tonight. He ran up the grand staircase and

strode down the long corridor, past giggling girls and men with stupid lust in their eyes--pray he did not wear the same expression. No one gainsaid him

when he turned down the smal er corridor and entered the hidden passage, remembering to duck his head. He paused outside the door at the end and

then knocked. There was a moment of suspense when he wondered if she would insist on meeting him elsewhere, away from her rooms.

Then she opened the door.

Aphrodite wore a dress that was almost simple tonight, green, with a bodice that was very low, although it did cover her nipples. He didn't know whether to

be grateful or mourn the loss of their distraction. The cold golden mask was firmly in place. Isaac realized oddly that he knew her—knew the grace of her

slim arms, the delicate hol ow at the base of her neck, the chal enging way she tilted her head when she caught sight of him—knew al this, yet had no idea

what her face looked like.

It irked him, like a pebble caught in his shoe, that knowledge that she refused to reveal that most basic part of herself to him.

"Do you intend to enter, Captain Wargate?" she asked, her tone acid. He grinned and bowed. "I have every intention of entering your secret room,

ma'am."

That surprised a short laugh from her. "Touché, Captain. Please come in."

He passed her, conscious that she stepped back so he wouldn't brush her person as he moved. "Cal me Isaac."

"What a very Biblical name."

"What's yours, then?" He turned to look at her. "Your real name, not the one they cal you here."

She hesitated and for a second he thought she might tel him, but she shook her head. "Would you like some wine?"

"Aye." He set his satchel on the square table before the fire. A man must be patient with a cat. She'd only drew near when he wasn't looking.

He heard the clink of the glass behind him as he opened the satchel and brought out the board. The pieces were in a soft leather pouch and he laid them

out on the black and red squares.

"What is that?" She was closer than he'd realized. He hid a smile. "What does it look like?"

She moved around him to set a glass of wine on the table. "A draughts board." She frowned down suspiciously at the game. "What did you bring it for?"

"I thought we'd play." He sat at one side of the table and picked up the wine glass, watching her.

"But . . ." She glanced about the room. "You came here to—"

"Play a game with you," he said softly. "That is if you wish to." She debated that a moment and he'd have given al the winnings from last night to have

seen beneath the flat golden mask. Then she lowered herself to the chair opposite his, her back as straight and rigid as if she were about to take tea with

the king.

He nodded and moved one of his men. "You don't have wine yourself."

"I don't drink it while entertaining." She pushed a round piece forward.

"Why draughts?"

He shrugged and made his move. "It's easy to play, but hard to master. I thought you might enjoy it."

"Enjoy it." She said the words as if tasting a strange meat. "You'd rather play a child's game than bed me?"

"Right here, right now, yes," he said and took the two pieces she'd played. "And it's not a game for a child."

She stared down at the board and he knew that under the cold metal mask she was frowning.

He made sure to keep his mouth straight.

"I don't think I like this game," she said regal y and flicked a piece forward with her fingertip.

"That's because you're not used to playing it," he replied. "It takes but a bit of practice. A smidgen of thinking ahead."

"Thinking ahead in what way?"

He scratched his chin. "Draughts can be played in two ways. One can move the pieces at random, reacting to the plays of the opponent. That is how a

child plays draughts." He pushed forward a round wooden piece, tempting her to capture it. "Or one can plan ahead, anticipate the moves the opposite

player makes. The game is more complex then." She stared at his lure for a moment and then moved a different piece forward. "It sounds like too much

thought for what is merely a game."

"A game is what one makes of it," he said softly. "Much of life is a game. If played skil ful y, with an intel igent and fascinating opponent, it can become

almost like a dance. One chal enges and moves, the other teases and skips away, only to dart forward later and strike a tel ing blow."

She looked at the board and then suddenly leaned forward and jumped two of his men, capturing them. She set the pieces neatly by her side of the board

before looking u p he r green eyes flashing triumphantly behind the mask. "Perhaps I like this game after al ." He felt the thrill g o through him—the

knowledge that he'd engaged her, this mysterious woman, but he bowed his head to hide his own triumph. A commander knew not to celebrate too soon

and let the enemy ship duck thorough his defenses.

Aphrodite was fingering one of the wooden markers she'd captured.

"Where did you get this game?"

"I made it."

She bent her head as if to examine the piece she held. "You carved it?"

"Mmm," he murmured his assent. "The evenings are long at sea. I carved that and stained it several years ago."

"Who do you usual y play with?"

His lips twitched her suspicious tone. "My first mate or one of the lieutenants. King me."

She placed a second marker on top of his first and then stared down at the board, but made no move. "It must be dreary to be so long at sea."

"No, not at al ." Isaac sat back in his chair and took a sip of wine. "The sea is ever changing, sometimes so mild and sweet it makes your heart ache at

the beauty. Sometimes she throws a fit and tosses the ship about so that you'd like to leave her and never return. But a sailor always returns to the sea."

She pushed one of her markers too near his guard. "You make the sea sound like a woman."

"She is to most sailors," he murmured absently. He could see no trap so he took three of her men.

Aphrodite made a sound of displeasure at his move and bent her head to the table. "You're widowed, but you must have a woman waiting for you

somewhere?"

"I wouldn't be here if there was."

Her head jerked up. "What a very fine sentiment, Captain." He cocked his head, eyeing her. "You don't believe me."

"No." She took one of his men. "In my experience al men are happy to dawdle with more than one woman, given the temptation."

"Most men, perhaps—"

"
All
men," she said with finality.

"Not this one, madam," he growled and took six of her markers at once with his king.

She gasped, looking down at what remained of her men. "A gentleman would let the lady win!"

"No." He shook his head. "No quarter, no false pity. We play this game as adults, you and I."

"I don't understand you," she said and for the first time he heard uncertainty in her voice.

"Make your move."

She glanced at the board. "Whichever way I move I'l lose."

"Do you admit defeat, then?"

"No." She played.

He took another man. "I'l ask a forfeit when I win."

"You made no mention of a forfeit before we started." She sounded indignant.

"I do now."

"Humph. Then it is my decision whether I'l grant it or not." She looked up at him through the slanted eyeholes of her mask, her eyes glowing green.

"Perhaps you'd like me to perform a service for you."

"Perhaps I would," he replied and cornered her last man. She looked at the board and then sat back in her chair, the angle of her body making her breasts

thrust at him invitingly. "What would you have me do, Isaac? What do you most desire?"

His throat had gone dry at her purring tone. Somehow the sight of her in her own rooms, in the more modest green dress was much more al uring than the

night before. There were parts of him that clamored to take her up on her offer.

But a wise player knew when to avoid the too-obvious lure. "I want your mask. Take it off for me, Aphrodite."

She froze. Her hands crept to her face, touching the gold that shielded her from his eyes.

"No." Her hands dropped to her lap. "I said I'd decide whether to give the forfeit or not and I cannot give that."

"I see." He blew out a silent breath of disappointment. Stil too soon, then. He leaned forward and began gathering the draughts pieces. Then she cleared

her throat.

He looked up, his hands stil ing.

"I'l give another forfeiture," she said so low it was nearly a whisper. His eyes narrowed. "What is that?"

"My name." She swal owed. "My name is Coral Smythe." And the triumph that surged through him was sweeter than that he'd felt the first time he'd

defeated an enemy ship.

At the touch of the Ice Princess's frozen lips, the poor mortal man's blood
would stop. His heart would freeze and his face and limbs ice over. He

would,
in fact, become a statue of ice, and then he joined the hundreds of other frozen
men who stood about the Ice Princess's icy lake. Immobile.

Silent.
Unchanging. And her only companions. . . .

--from
The Ice Princess

Coral woke early the next morning and turned to look at the chair. Empty. Isaac was already gone. Alarmed, she sat up and felt for her mask, but it was stil

i n place. She swallowed, letting her arms fal . Strange t o think that he'd seen her asleep. S he usually hated the thought of being observed with her

defenses down, but with Isaac . . . the knowledge that he'd seen her asleep was almost erotic. She shivered and rose. She was letting the captain too

close. A man didn't rise to command his own ship in the Royal Navy by being weak. By letting his desires control him. No matter his interest in her at the

moment, it would disappear once the novelty wore off and he came to his senses.

Coral pushed the cruel thought from her mind. She had errands to run and if she were quick she might leave the Grotto before Jimmy rose. Quickly she

dressed and hurried through the little passage, but her luck ran out when she reached the main hal . Jimmy leaned against the wal as if he'd been waiting

for her. Her heart jumped nervously at the sight.

"Another late night, Aphrodite?" He shook his head in mock concern.

"And I hear Captain Wargate spent the night in your rooms. Again." She made to move past him. "I've an appointment—" He caught her arm roughly.

"You're not taking your services elsewhere, are you, sweet?"

"Of course not." She inhaled to calm the panicked fluttering in her breast.

He squeezed, pinching her flesh against her bones painful y. "Because I wouldn't like t o have t o discipline you, Aphrodite, no t when you've suddenly

proved so very profitable again."

She stared, truly shocked now. "You know I don't entertain. Not anymore. After Captain Wargate's seven nights are up--"

"The gentlemen wil be clamoring to try you." Jimmy grinned like the evil imp he was. "We simply can't afford to let this opportunity slide, sweet."

"Jimmy—"

He suddenly let go of her arm, causing her to stumble back. "I think we'l make the Red Room solely yours. It'l lend a touch of exclusivity to your wares.

Now don't let the captain tire you out. I've already got the customers lining up for your first free night."

He grinned again and strol ed away down the hal .

Coral pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the frantic beat of her heart. Dear God, if Jimmy truly decided to whore her out, there was nothing she could

do to defend herself. He held the majority share in the Grotto, had the power to toss her into the street. And worse, he had the power to make the lives of

al those who worked in Aphrodite’s Grotto—the working boys and women, the maids and cooks, even the bul y boys—a living hel . Jimmy could make her