Rhiane watched Luke's reaction to her suggestion that Tobias could wash her hair- which she had not considered seriously and had rather been the result of musing aloud- with detached confusion. The princess elect had only been speculating about how far the royal bodyguard might go in refusing to deny any of her requests. Had her proposal been serious she would not have subjected either one of them to the inherent temptation of being undressed together. She would have found a way to dress herself simply, perhaps with a towel over her shoulders to protect her clothes, and leaned over the side of the tub to allow Tobias to clean most efficiently. Because her imagination had not seized hold of the fantastical portrait of seduction that Luke's had, where two attractive people were nearly naked, she was somewhat baffled by the intensity of his response.

His next words inquiring if she was serious sounded more like an accusation than a question. Nevertheless, she had opened her mouth to try to explain herself when he had deftly set aside his tray and straddled her lap. Rhiane's breath caught in her throat at his proximity but she did not back away. The way he told her that no man 'in his right mind' would 'say no to a woman as yourself' was a sharp departure from the Luke of the engagement ball. He had been able to reject her many times. For as long as she lived she would not forget how easily he had been led away from the celebration by the actress. His disgust with the arrangement had been so profound Queen Camilla had to intervene and force him not to leave the farmer's side. Now, in spite of having taken more than one opportunity to show his bias towards the highborn ladies, he had declared her desirable. Less than twelve hours ago he had professed he had only indulged her kiss because it would be rude to do so.

Any moment now she was confident he would stop. She stared at him, unblinking, too emotionally exhausted to suss out what bizarre motivations and intentions possessed him, when he insulted her by calling her naive. Rhiane thought it was a ridiculous label considering her sordid past with the male sex but she had no opportunity to contradict. Luke's attack was no longer one spoken but of affectionate action. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, and her heart thudded so loudly in her chest she thought she too might have to seek treatment from Dr. Gulsvig for broken ribs. This was what she had wanted. She had wanted him to touch her, to caress her, to affirm her beauty as a woman. Perhaps it was because he was fulfilling her forbidden wishes that she did not dare to stop him as his fingers sought out the strap of the gown. With very little effort the flimsy piece of fabric dropped down dangerously low.

"It's not..." she tried to call out over Luke's shoulder but Tobias was already gone. The sight had been ultimately too much for him to bear. Rhiane knew there was little she could have said to put his mind at ease. Any excuse she had would have given would have been a total lie- it was exactly what it looked like and she did have feelings for her fiance. It shouldn't have bothered her yet it inexplicably did. The princess elect cared very deeply about her only friend in the palace viewed her; for once she was not content to let her reputation suffer under misunderstanding. Later she would seek him out and try to confirm that their relationship had not been irreparably damaged.

"I don't have to tell you to stop," Rhiane asserted softly. There were goosebumps still on her flesh from where he had let his warm breath linger tantalizingly. "Last night you said you only kissed me because I wouldn't have taken the medication otherwise, that you were only being polite by not pushing me away," she continued. Although this was a subject that brought pain to her voice it did not waver with emotion. Her inflection was calm, even, and confident, as if she were merely reciting facts instead of admitting the source of her heartache. "That's how I know you won't go any farther. You'll stop of your own accord unless I ask you not to, and I can only imagine then you'll say it was under duress, and against your better judgment, that you didn't want to be [i]impolite[/i]."

But Rhiane could not pretend under the scrutiny of his crystalline blue gaze that she didn't want to shed their garments and explore their needs, the depths of their attraction, and if the lightning that crackled beneath the skin was a good omen of things yet to come. She had certainly slept with men as a matter of convenience that she found exponentially less enticing than the crown prince. His mischievous predatory gaze was alluring in ways the tabloids had failed to capture. Willpower alone kept her in place as she took heavy breaths that almost dislodged the single nightgown strap that kept her modest. She tried to steel herself for Luke to withdraw, to suddenly laugh and say a peasant didn't deserve a dance between the sheets, that he would only perform under obligation when they were instructed his mother to share a bed for the purposes of procreation.

"If he really likes me as you claim he does, this could be a way to free you from having to humor me," Rhiane continued. Despite herself she couldn't help but provoke the jealousy that had reared its ugly head. She had to watch as Sophia twice turned the head of Luke and so now it was only fair he suffer a taste of the same. "You can make it his duty to attend me so you don't have need to do so in private. We could keep everything professional." Technically the actress had been affair once the heir to the crown had become engaged. Perhaps Sophia had broken up with Luke but that did not mean that he was of a mind to stop pursuing others like her. What Rhiane alluded to was an arrangement where he could be a playboy in secret while his cousin was his stand in when the princess elect found herself yearning.

It wasn't what she wanted. Luke could almost certainly judge this for himself from the color of her cheeks as she watched him, from the way her body had become hot to the touch, from the way she did not withdraw but remained frozen in place, waiting anxiously for his reply, nervously anticipating a callous rebuff.