“Can it?” Surely, he wasn’t going to propose? Now? It was what she’d wanted. What she had planned. The sole purpose of this entire Christmas charade. Why, this was going to be easier than she had thought.

“It would be difficult, you know. There are all sorts of matters to be resolved. Details to be sorted out, arrangements to be made, permissions to be sought.” He shook his head. “Yet, I think well worth it. You would make an exquisite princess. My exquisite princess.”

Still, now that a proposal seemed imminent, it seemed, as well, not quite . . . right. “Given your position, it is not a decision to be made lightly.”

“Nor would I make it lightly.” He squeezed her hand. “Dare I tell you how much I long to take you in my arms, to make you truly mine.”

“Oh, my.”

“Camille”—he bent closer and spoke softly into her ear—“I wish to feel the heat of your body next to mine, the beat of your heart in tandem with my own, your breath mingling with mine.” He straightened and his gaze bored into hers. “You feel the same. There is passion in you, Camille, simmering beneath the surface. Waiting only for the spark that will burst it into flames. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Can you?” she murmured.

This perfect man, her perfect prince, was gazing down at her with desire flaring in his eyes. She should be falling into his arms, into his bed, and all she could think about was that Grayson was in the bedroom across the hall from hers. Why, even now he was standing near the parlor door pouring himself a brandy. Annoying creature. This was his fault.

“As I said, we have a great deal to talk about.” His gaze locked with hers. “Let me come to you tonight.”

“Oh, but my family, Nikolai. They are all in the rooms next to mine. Should we be discovered . . .” She shook her head, in part to hide her relief. She wasn’t her sister. They were entirely different when it came to this sort of thing. Beryl was much more adventurous. Camille had always considered herself rather discriminating. She had never fallen into bed with a man just because it might be, well, fun. “It would be most . . . improper.”

“Yes, of course.” He released her hand and stepped back. “Forgive me. I lost my head for a moment.” He smiled. “Not an uncommon occurrence when I am with you, I fear.”

“You are a most charming devil, Nikolai.” She adopted a teasing smile.

“I cannot help myself, it seems, with you. I am allowing my heart to lead my head. Too quickly, perhaps.” He sighed. “But then I am a man who knows what he wants when he sees it. And I always get what I want.”

“One of the privileges of being a prince, no doubt.”

“I should warn you, Camille, I am a most impatient man.”