The Ice Princess

The Ice Princess

Elizabeth Hoyt

EVEN NIGHTS OF SIN

As the madam of Aphrodite’s Grotto, the most infamous brothel in London, Coral Smythe knows everything possible about men’s needs and desires. Yet

she’s never experienced the love of a single man—not even that of Captain Isaac Wargate whose hawk-like eyes stare at her with both condemnation

…and lust.

SEVEN NIGHTS OF ECSTASY

Captain Wargate heartily disapproves of the sensuous madam who always wears a golden mask. She lures his officers from both his ship and their duty.

But when Coral herself is offered up as the prize in a game of chance, Wargate impulsively enters…and wins.

SEVEN NIGHTS OF LOVE

Now the puritanical navy captain has just seven nights to learn everything he can about the mysterious madam and what she knows of a man’s desires.

But when Coral is threatened by the new owner of Aphrodite’s Grotto, wil Wargate take a chance on the woman beneath the mask…and on love?

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away from here, there
lived a princess made entirely of ice…

from the
Ice Princess

London, 1762

The madam of an infamous brothel has to handle many types of difficult men, Coral Smythe reflected. Drunken lords, arrogant merchants, callow youths

teetering on the crumbling edges of their own personal disasters, and just too many men with more money than sense in their pockets. But few men were

as irritating, provoking, vexing, or
aggravating
as a puritanical naval captain.

An
attractive
puritanical naval captain.

Coral touched the gold mask covering her face with one finger, checking as she always did that it was in position. Thus satisfied, she descended the

staircase into the gilded hel hole that was Aphrodite’s Grotto. Business was brisk tonight. The curving grand staircase spil ed into the main hal . At the far

end were the great double front doors to the Grotto, overhead Aphrodite herself frolicked in painted pink clouds, surrounded by her well-endowed mythical

lovers, and below…

Wel below was bedlam of course.

Ladies—some of the evening, some quite real swanned about in demimasks, their faces much more decorously covered than their bodies. Gentlemen

–one used the term loosely here – strutted and shouted and fel over themselves in drunken revelry.

Coral lifted her upper lip beneath the mask. Easy marks, every one of them. Al these men just waiting to lose their money. And for what? A handful of soft

breast? A warm wet mouth sucking on their cock?

Foolish, ephemeral pleasure that disappeared with the light of the next morning. Men were such idiots, so alike in their base desires and loud demands.

Dukes or coal merchants, they threw back their sweaty heads and laughed at Aphrodite, smiling down from her clouds.

Al except that one puritanical naval captain.

Captain Isaac Wargate stood like a gloomy black rook of doom at the side of the hal . He still wore his long naval cape, despite the heat in the crowded

hal , and held his crocked hat propped under one arm. He surveyed the room expressionlessly, the Coral knew there was disapproval i n the hawk-like

eyes that peered beneath heavy black eyebrows.

Irritating man.

She sauntered toward him, aware somehow that he knew of her presence, though he didn’t deign to look her way. She could study him thus – his nose

large in profile, his ful lips compressed just slightly, his dark hair pul ed back into a tightly braided queue, the lines about his mouth deep and cynical ---

she could feel and acknowledge that traitorous bit of heat that pooled low in her bel y every time she saw him.
Damn him
.

“Goodness Captain, we haven’t seen you here for half a year or more.”

She cal ed sweetly when she was within a few feet of him. “Have you found a lady bird for the evening?”

“You know I don’t sample these wares, madam” he growled in reply. He didn’t bother looking at her, despite the low cut o f her glittering black-and-gold

dress. Her nipples were rouged tonight and peeked from the top of the square-cut bodice, a startling crimson contrast to the black material and her own

white skin. She had the eyes of every other man in the room. But not his.

Which only irked her more.

Beneath her mask she smiled and infused contrition into her voice.

“Oh, of course. How sil y of me to have forgotten.” She leaned closer to him, his broad, cloaked shoulders a t the height o f he r forehead, and said

conspiratorial y, “You do know I can supply boys as wel , don’t you?”

He turned then, his dark blue eyes hitting her like a physical blow.

“I’m not interested in the trade of any human flesh, ma’am.”

“Then one wonders what you’re doing in a brothel.”

“I’m only here to round up my junior officers,” he said shortly. He nodded to a bantam man across the room−one of his sailors. “As you very wel know.”

“Mm, I’m probably alerted before your admiral when the
Challenger
docks. Al those lovely officers in their pretty uniforms come streaming off your ship

and in my doors.”

She caught the eye of Big Billy, one of the Grotto bullyboys, over the captain’s shoulder. The bullyboys were employed to keep the rough out and, when

needed, to help the finer hurry home when they’d overstayed their welcome. To look at Bil y −a huge, hulking man with almost no forehead −one would

never think that he was actual y quite sharp. He brushed the tip o f his nose with a thumb − a prearranged signal
meaning trouble i n the offing
. Coral

nodded imperceptibly and glanced about. The man in front of her was the only trouble she could see, but Bil y knew something was up.

She turned back to the captain.

Who was frowning down at her. “My officers gamble and wench away what little pay they have here.”

”Is that my problem?” She shook her head sorrowly and spread her hands. “I provide the enticement. They come here of their own free wil . I can hardly

turn those poor, lonely boys away.”

“Can’t you?’ He eyed her thoughtful y. “I’d’ve thought you could do whatever you wished in this place.”

She shrugged, her nipples rising above her bodice for a second. “Looks can be deceiving Captain. I’d’ve thought a man of your years would know that.”

“Oh, I know it well enough.” He glanced away from her as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her white flesh on display, “If I could keep my men from coming

here I would, damn you.”

“So stern,” she crooned. She reached up and trailed a gold-lacquered fingernail through the strict folds of his black neck cloth. It gave her a thril –like

petting a great bird of prey who might bite at any moment.

“Is there nothing I can do to relax you, Captain?”

His hand caught hers in a move so swift she started. His hand was big and hot, his fingers entirely enveloping hers. For a moment he stared at her, his

blue-black eyes narrowed and watching.

Then he abruptly let her go. “You can refrain from touching me, ma’am.”

And the awful thing was she felt a pang of hurt from his words. Stupid, really. She’d been a whore since the age o f fourteen. Had withstood far worse

insults without turning a hair. Yet the clipped words of a puritanical naval captain could hurt her.

Fortunately, her golden mask hid everything but her eyes. She let her hand fal carelessly as her eyes trailed down his person. His cape was thrown back,

revealing the dark blue of his coat, trimmed with bright gold braid, a pristine white waistcoat, and white breeches. Her gaze settled there, below the

waistband of his breeches, and she cocked her head, examining the magnificent bulge under the white cloth.

Then she raised her eyes to his blue-black stare. “You do not want my ladies; you do not want my boys. I’ve heard that you are not married−”

“Widowed,” he snapped.

She inclined her head. “So tel me Captain. Is that padding to make your uniform fit properly? Or do you actual y have a cock and bal s like any other man,

for I declare I am in doubt.”

She expected anger− even rage. Many men of her acquaintance would’ve struck her for such a shameless insult.

Captain Wargate smiled. His full lips widened and parted, revealing strong white teeth. She caught her breath. The man was astonishingly handsome

when he smiled.

“You’re insulting my
manhood
, ma’am? I must’ve truly rattled you. Your repartee isn’t usual y so crude.”

She glanced away uneasily, and again caught Big Bil y’s eye. He nodded to one of the sitting rooms off the main hal . She should go find out what had Bil y

so worried. She should tend to her business. Instead she turned back to the captain and purred, “you must forgive me, sir, but I’ve not seen any evidence

of your, er,
manhood
as you so delicately put it. Quite the reverse in fact.”

Stupid. She needed to find the threat, not stand here and trade ineffectual gibes with a man from a world entirely different from her own.

He shifted and suddenly, the broad expanse of his white waistcoat was al that was in front of her face. She glanced up, startled.

To meet too-perceptive dark blue eyes. “Who’re you watching for?”

She opened her mouth, intending to deny or confess, she wasn’t sure, but a loud male voice spoke behind her before she could.

“Gentlemen!”

Coral turned, already knowing the source of that high, excited voice, already knowing what Bil y had been trying to signal her.

A lithe Youngman in powdered wig and blazing orange coat leaped to the top of a table. He spread wide his arms. “Gentlemen!” Kindly lend me your ears,

for I have an announcement you won’t want to miss!”

By this time the entire room had turned to look, the laughter and shouted talk gradual y dying.

Captain Wargate was at Coral’s back and she felt the brush of his chest as he whispered in her ear. “That’s the one you were watching for, isn’t?”

She gave a single jerky nod.

“Who is he?”

“Jimmy Hyde,” she said grimly.

“And
what
is he?”

But there wasn’t time to answer and she wasn’t sure she could in any case.

Jimmy was talking again. “Tonight, gentlemen, you are very fortunate. Very fortunate indeed! For tonight you’l witness a game of chance like no other.”

“What kind of game?” a tal elderly man in a ful -bottom wig shouted.

“Loo, sir!’ Jimmy cal ed back.

“Phht!” A thin-lipped dandy in black and scarlet shrugged a discontented shoulder. “I can get a game of loo in any gambling house in the city.”

“True, sir, very true!” Jimmy might be a spawn of Satan himself, but he knew how to work a crowd. He grinned and raised his right hand with a flourish. “But

I’l wager, sir, you’l not find a pot like the one Aphrodite’s Grotto offers tonight.”

“And what pot’s that?” a royal duke drawled.

Jimmy turned and in the second before he spoke, Coral met his evil little eyes. “Why, gentlemen, we offer up Aphrodite herself!”

She staggered, though no one but Captain Wargate would’ve noticed since he caught her at once about the waist to steady her. What nasty plan had

Jimmy come up with now? She hadn’t sold her own body in over two years. He
knew
that. He knew how much she hated it. Which, obviously, was his

point.

Jimmy grinned again like an impish monkey bent on destroying what soul she had left. “Seven full nights, gentlemen! Aphrodite will serve the winner for

seven nights of bliss in
any
and
every
way he wishes!’

A buzz began i n the crowd, like flies swarming t o a wounded deer. Jimmy jumped from the table and held out his hand t o her, graceful, indolent, the

command almost entirely hidden. “Won’t you my dear?”