Page 87 of The Highlander's Princess Bride
“I told you last night that you do not frighten me.”
“Excellent. Then perhaps you might like me a little bit, after all?”
She sighed. “Again, not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“I am neither gently bred nor a lady.”
He frowned down at her. “Of course you are.”
“Would you please sit? I’m getting a crick in my neck staring up at you.”
He bit back a smile and took the seat opposite her. “Now, tell me why you don’t think you’re a lady.”
“Because I was born illegitimate.” The words came out in a rush.
He suddenly felt muddle-headed again. “I don’t understand. You said you were raised by your parents in your grandfather’s coaching inn.”
“No, I was raised by my mother. Barely,” she muttered.
“Yes, but you said you lost your father at an early age.”
She waggled a hand. “He was never part of my life, but he didn’t die.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t like being lied to, Victoria.”
“I’m sorry for doing so,” she said. “But it’s not a point one wishes to advertise, especially as a governess.”
He noted her worried expression and the hands tightly clenched on the tabletop. “I can imagine how that would be an impediment. But you were raised in a respectable household, were you not?”
She nodded. “I can vouch for the good character of my aunts and uncles. They’re very well regarded in Brighton, as was my grandfather.”
After a moment’s consideration, he shrugged. “Then unless your father is a murderer, a brigand, or a highwayman, I fail to see the problem.”
When she blanched, his muscles seemed to tighten all at once. “Please tell me your father is none of those things.”
“He’s not.”
Nick’s patience started to run out. “Then what?”
She hesitated. “Must you insist?”
“Yes!”
Victoria scowled back at him. “There’s no need to bark at me.”
“Clearly there is, since your delicacy is making this conversation ridiculously convoluted.”
“Oh, very well. If you must know, I’m the natural daughter of His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent.”
He nearly fell out of his chair. “You’re what?”
“You heard me. The Prince Regent had a brief affair with my mother when he was first staying in Brighton. I was the result,” she finished sarcastically.
He stared at her, taking in her fiery blush and her defiant but touching glare. Something bubbled inside his chest, fizzy and hilarious. The poor lass thought that being the by-blow of a prince—the next king, for God’s sake—would put him off.
“Say something,” she said tersely.
