His Royal Pleasure (12 page)

Katherine felt the room turn sideways. She stared wide-eyed. “Ruined!”

“Well, perhaps ruined is a bit dramatic. But it's close. Alex was restless and unsettled before he went on vacation. Since he's been back, he's miserable.”

Surprise ran through her. “Has he discussed this with you?” she asked doubtfully. It was difficult for her to imagine Alex willingly discussing his feelings.

“I interrogated him one evening after dinner. He was reticent at first, but after a few White Russians, he started talking—” Isabella's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion “—and singing something about ripping out his heart and stomping that sucker flat. He said some things I didn't understand. Fireflies and water-balloon battles, something about the beach at night and how beautiful she was. When I asked who she was, he said ‘Katherine.'”

Her heart clenched, and she stood. Sitting was suddenly impossible. “I gave him the firefly.” Katherine shrugged. “Children catch them, and he seemed to have missed out on the fun of childhood. I guess I tried to help him find that for a little while.”

“Katherine, you gave my brother more than a firefly.”

Katherine felt her cheeks heat. She wasn't ashamed; she just felt what she'd shared with Alex was very private. “He didn't—” she started, and faltered. Swallowing, she continued. “He didn't discuss that, did he?”

“No.”

Relief coursed through her.

“But we haven't solved anything. Alex is miserable.”

Feeling helpless, Katherine lifted her hands. “I don't know what to say.”

“Say you'll come to Moreno.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Isabella challenged. “You're responsible for his unhappiness. The least you can do is visit him.”

“I have responsibilities here. School starts in two and a half weeks.”

“Then you may visit for two weeks.”

Katherine shook her head in frustration. “You don't understand. If I go, I'll just be prolonging the agony for both of us. Nothing can ever come of this. I've been involved in one major mess with a politician, and I don't want to do it again.”

Isabella gave her statement a dismissing nod. “I know all about your unfortunate experience with your ex-husband. It's a drop in the bucket compared to what our family has been through. Alex probably didn't tell you about it because he feels he's got to keep the record with the press spotless to make up for our father's indiscretion.”

“He mentioned something about bad choices that affected everyone,” said Katherine, remembering their conversations.

Isabella sighed, flicked her ashes into the ashtray and told Katherine the story of her parents' seven-year estrangement. Alex's young mother had been crushed when a woman came forward claiming the prince had sired her young son. The press played up the embarrassing drama.

“Oh, no,” said Katherine, remembering her own humiliation.

“Oh, yes. The truth came out that while Father hadn't been responsible for producing this child, he had in fact had a lengthy affair with the woman.” Isabella paused. “After he'd married my mother.”

Katherine felt a surge of sympathy for Isabella's mother. She understood the feeling of betrayal. “It must have been terrible.”

“It gets worse. My mother was pregnant and terribly hurt. She left my father. She took me and tried to take Alex, but my father wouldn't allow it. After all, Alex was heir to the throne.” Isabella shook her head, a shadow coming over her face. “I always thought Alex got the worst of it. He was stuck with my father, who was miserable. Michellina and I got to live in the country with my mother. She was sad, but determined to make a happy life for us.”

Katherine was confused. “But your parents are together now.”

“Yes. It took them seven years to make up.” She rolled her eyes. “They're both incredibly stubborn. Father had to court Mother all over again. The press loved that too.”

Katherine's heart twisted. “And Alex?”

Sadness flickered across Isabella's face. “You're right about Alex missing his childhood. And now he has this misguided notion that he has to live a boring, unhappy life and save us from further scandal.”

Katherine felt helpless. “I don't see how I can help him.”

“If you care for him, you can be his friend.” Isabella's gaze flickered downward. “In his position he doesn't have many.”

Katherine sensed Isabella was speaking for herself too. She felt torn. Of course she badly wanted to go to Alex and make him smile and comfort him. She wanted to be there for him. But she was terrified. Going to Moreno meant she'd be risking everything. “Look at me.” Katherine opened her arms, fully aware of her khaki shorts and T-shirt. She knew what her hair looked like. “I'm not princess material.”

Isabella gave her an assessing glance. “We can take care of your hair, cosmetics and wardrobe one day and leave the following day.”

The cosmetics wouldn't take care of her inadequacy. Panic sliced through her, and she thought of all the obstacles. “What about my passport? Where would I stay? What about the press?”

Isabella stubbed out her cigarette. “I can arrange for a temporary visa. You'll be my guest at the palace, and Jacques will handle the press. Is there anyone you should notify of your absence?”

Katherine brushed her hair behind her ear in agitation. “My brother, Chad. He's not going to believe this. I'm not sure I do, either.” Isabella was talking as if everything were decided, while Katherine was still seesawing first one way, then another. She felt uncertain, but part of her was impatient with her uncertainty.
Take a chance. You'll always regret it if you don't.

“Fine,” said Isabella, ignoring Katherine's distress. “Pack tonight. We'll leave tomorrow morning for New York.”

“New York!”

“Yes,” Isabella said calmly. “I've heard of a wonderful salon there. And while New York's not Paris, the shopping should be adequate.”

Katherine considered backing out.

Isabella gave her a sharp glance. “Don't even think it.”

Katherine shook her head, muttering, “You're worse than he is.”

Isabella stopped. “What do you mean?”

“Do you always get your way?”

“No.” Isabella gave a dazzling smile. “But I try.”

If Alex heard one more word about Claire Deneuve's impressive pedigree, he would thrust the sterling-silver butter knife into his ribs and put an end to his misery.

“I don't want to brag,” her mother said, “but, yes, Claire can trace her ancestors all the way back to Charlemagne.”

Alex turned the gleaming silver knife in his hand and thought long and hard. The knife was as dull as the dinner conversation, though, and it would take quite a bit of effort to inflict a lethal stab in one stroke. Stifling a sigh, he set the knife down. It only seemed that dinner was taking an eternity, he assured himself.

His mother must have sensed his impatience. In the slightest of movements she shook her head, showing her disapproval. Her eyes held a glint of sympathy, however, and she smiled in good humor.

Claire Deneuve was the latest offering paraded under his nose as a strong suggestion for his future wife. She had all the credentials, had been to the right schools. Her reputation was spotless, her manners impeccable, and she was easy on the eyes. Her father was a wealthy, politically influential French count.

He'd heard the list of her assets
ad nauseam.
Alex wondered if she'd ever caught a firefly.

He scowled, remembering how Katherine had rejected him. His ego was bruised, his pride damaged, and he didn't want to think about what she'd done to his heart. Her implacability struck sharp and deep, leaving him with an unwelcome feeling of vulnerability.

Restless again, he looked around the linen-covered table, noticing the two empty seats. Isabella and her escort were late. Lucky them.

Claire murmured something about the weather.

Alex was about to reply when Isabella burst in. She gave a quick little bobbing curtsy, a smile full of charm. “So sorry I'm late. Please forgive me. I know it's insufferably rude.”

“Yes, it is,” Alex agreed dryly, noting her lack of explanation.

“I've brought a friend,” she continued in a blithe tone. She opened the door and encouraged her visitor. “Come on.”

Cynically he sat back and wondered what poor, unsuspecting sap Isabella had lured into her net this time. He caught a flash of red and purple. Then Alex watched as heaven and hell walked through the door in kid-leather heels.

His heart dropped to his knees. She was dressed, not in shorts, but in a purple silk dress that flowed over her curves like water. She'd cut her hair. Sentimental sorrow warred with desire. Somehow she looked both sophisticated and innocent with her lush painted mouth and large crystal eyes. He remembered painting that mouth and kissing it, watching it burn his body. He'd looked into those eyes when they turned dark with need. He stiffened, bracing himself against her effect on him.

His gaze flicked downward, and Alex caught sight of Katherine's hands, clenched at her sides. He saw through the worldly disguise. She looked terrified. Terrified but beautiful, and entirely desirable. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and he found himself irritated at the slight.

The memory of her coolly worded rejection taunted him. Masculine pride rose to the surface. He wanted to snub her, then deport her. He wanted to catch her in his arms and comfort her.

Alex nearly despised her for the flux of emotions raging inside him. His feelings for her weren't pretty or gentle. Or controlled. That fact bothered him most. What was she doing here? Was she toying with him?

Isabella ticked off introductions at the speed of sound until she came to Alex. Then she paused. “And my brother, His Royal Highness Alexander Merrick de Moreno.”

Alex stood, and everyone else followed suit. “Welcome to Moreno, Ms. Kendall. We're
delighted
with your presence.”

She blushed. Isabella gave her a gentle nudge. “Curtsy,” she whispered.

Katherine stared at his sister in such disbelief that Alex nearly laughed out loud. Perhaps there would be justice after all.

Isabella nodded, and Katherine gave a slow, uncertain dip. “Thank you,
Your Highness.
”

He moved toward her, took her hand and kissed it. Her hand trembled within his. The movement soothed his stung ego. Something inside him bent, just the slightest bit, and he gentled his tone. “It will be my pleasure.”

“Don't count on it,” she whispered, taking her hand back. She looked uneasy enough to bolt.

“Please join us. We were just getting ready for the main course,” Alex's mother said in mild reproof to Isabella.

Katherine was seated between the countess and the countess's son, Pierre. Alex looked at her, toying with the idea of rearranging the seating.

“How long do you plan to visit Moreno, Ms. Kendall?” Alex asked.

“Two weeks,” she said, and he felt her gaze focus on his ear. She raised an eyebrow.
Where's your earring?
her eyes asked.

“Such a short time,” he said, disappointed.
You cut your hair.

“Yes, it is.” She touched her hair, looking uncertain.
You don't like it.

“It's beautiful,” he reassured her, forgetting to hold his tongue.

“I'm sure Moreno is beautiful. I look forward to seeing your country.”

To hell with seeing his country, Alex thought. He wanted to lock her in his suite until his passion was spent and the burning need for her disappeared. Alex watched as Pierre, wearing a pleased, seductive grin, proceeded to move in on Katherine. At that moment His Royal Highness longed for the return of the guillotine.

 

“Well, you've done some stupid things, but this time you've reached your peak,” Katherine muttered to herself as she sat on the cushioned bench in front of her guest-room window. A vanilla-scented breeze fluttered the curtains and cooled her face. It was dark, so she couldn't see much, just the bending of trees, the shadow of ships in the harbor, a hint of a whitecap here and there.

She heard her door open and didn't turn. Another maid, she thought, and refused to get into another argument about her ability to unpack her own clothing. She'd traded her dress, heels and stockings for her aqua cotton nightshirt emblazoned with the words Warm Me Up. Katherine rubbed her arms. She could use some warmth. Alex had been cold and remote.

Her door clicked closed, and Katherine gave a sigh of relief. She wanted to be alone.

“You cut your hair.”

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she jerked her head around. He stood two feet from her, still dressed in his formal clothes, his face inscrutable. His only concession to the late hour was the loosened tie and removal of the black jacket.

She stood and swallowed hard, wishing for the millionth time that she were taller. “Isabella's suggestion. You don't like it.”

“The silk dress?”

“Isabella again.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm afraid it will have to be dry-cleaned. I spilled some wine on it.”

Alex's eyes narrowed. “Was that when Pierre invited you to his private beach?”

Katherine clenched her jaw. “No. As a matter of fact, it was when Claire asked if you'd enjoyed slumming in America.”

He didn't reply, just watched her with that cold, forbidding expression bred through hundreds of years of his ancestors. She couldn't bear it, so she slipped around him, making a wide arc to avoid him. “You don't have to worry. I won't be telling anyone about what happened between us. I'm thinking of leaving tomorrow, so—”

“Tomorrow?” he interjected. “You said you were staying for two weeks.”

“Isabella's suggestion again, and my mistake for following it.” She bit her lip and glanced up at him. He'd turned to face her. “Megamistake,” she muttered.

He cocked his head to one side. “But you've just gotten here. Don't you want to see Moreno?”

“I've seen enough,” she said flatly.

He stepped closer, and she saw that she'd been wrong about the chill in his eyes. They were bright, all right, bright with anger. “What makes you say that?” His voice was low and very controlled.

Katherine was tired of dancing around the subject. “Well, it could have something to do with the near-permanent frown you've been wearing since I arrived.”

He glowered. “What should my expression be when I see the woman who told me to find someone else after I've begged her to come to me?”

Jealousy twisted her beyond reason. “It doesn't look like you wasted any time.”

“My mother arranged that dinner. At least Claire doesn't hate me for being a prince.”

“I never said I hated you,” she retorted.

“You might as well have.”

Katherine took a deep breath. “You know, Alex. That phone call was just as hard for me as it was for you. Maybe even worse. Do you think I enjoyed saying those things? Do you think I wasn't cut to ribbons? I was trying to make it easy for—”

“Easy!” Alex swore. “To throw my love back in my face.”

“It sounded more like an affair to me, and I was half tempted to take you up on your offer, Your Royal Highness. But princes don't have a corner on the market when it comes to pride and self-preservation. I have a little of my own.”

They stared at each other, locked in willful combat, the air sizzling between them. It went deeper than words, and judging from his fierce expression, Alex wasn't any happier about it than she was.

She pushed her hair behind her ear and looked away. “This is crazy. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry for all the grief I've caused you.” She walked to the dresser and pulled the music box from the drawer. “But I do want you to have this.” She pushed it into his hands.

He looked dumbfounded. “Why?”

“Open it.”

He looked at her, then down at the box, and opened it. The tiny grind of gears broke the silence, and the music played. He listened for a moment, his face gentling with memories. Katherine felt the tug of them too. Her skin grew warm and her breath short at the vivid images playing in her mind.

Abruptly Alex closed the lid with a click and reached past her to set it on the dresser. “I don't want the damned music box. I want you.”

Katherine froze. Stunned by the blunt need in his voice, she helplessly watched him move toward her with purpose stamped on his rigid features. A second later his arms went around her, warm and encompassing. Katherine closed her eyes against her immediate, unbidden response. Like a flower toward the sun, her body curled into his heat. Her hands sought the strength of his shoulders.

“I'm starving for you,” he muttered roughly. “I want to drink your laughter until I'm drunk with it. I want to taste your body until you cry out. I want too much.”

Her heart twisted. She bowed her head into his chest. “Two weeks,” she said desperately. “I'm leaving in two weeks.”

His hands tightened around her waist, and he nuzzled her hair. “If I had my way, I'd lock you in my suite.”

“The press would have a field day.”

“Don't push me, Katherine.”

The recklessness in his voice made her uneasy. She looked up and touched his jaw. He was so precious to her that she ached. “I lied,” she whispered. “I did dream of you.”

His gaze darkened, and he smoothed the hair from her face. “You won't for the next fourteen days.”

Confused, she rubbed her cheek against his hand. “Why?”

A hint of an arrogant grin tugged at his lips. “You won't be sleeping.”

 

She did sleep, but only in the early hours before dawn when Alex left her. The nights were his. Katherine didn't question the way he demanded rights to her body, because, right or wrong, she felt the same way about him.

On Tuesday morning Alex cleared his schedule and took Katherine on a tour of Moreno in, of all things, a carriage.

She noticed the way everyone from shopkeepers to professionals dressed in suits waved and deferred to him. It must be a heady experience to be always the center of attention, she thought, as they rode through the market square with the quaint, colorful buildings. She wondered if it might also get lonely, though, when everyone expected you to be at your best all the time.

Pride and devotion came through in his voice as he told her the history of his country. Katherine was charmed by the mingling of French and English she heard, but mostly she was charmed by the man beside her.

When they meandered onto a quiet lane that bordered the palace, the time-zone change began to catch up with her. Katherine shook her head. “Well, I can honestly say I've never done this before.” Alex took her hand and grinned. “Done what?”

“A carriage ride at dawn with a prince.”

He chuckled. “Not exactly dawn. It's ten-thirty.”

“Well it feels like dawn. I've been awake the past two nights.”

“Do you wish I'd let you sleep?” he asked, his gut twisting at how eager he'd been to show her Moreno. It was important to him. Somewhere inside him, he realized he was still trying to sell her on the idea of staying here. If he couldn't hold her on his own, then perhaps the charm of his country would help win her over.

Katherine muffled a yawn. “When?”

“Last night or this morning.”

The joy had gone out of his voice. She heard it immediately. Katherine leaned closer to him and lifted his sunglasses so she could see his eyes. Need and caution shone, and she wished she could wipe them away. She reached up and pressed her mouth to his. “I was joking. I can sleep the rest of my life. I just want to be with you.”

His eyes darkened, and he kissed her so passionately that her mind turned to mush for the rest of the ride.

The next afternoon he took her to a private beach where the sand was pure white and the waters clear turquoise. He told her he'd come here often as a child. She remembered how he'd been separated from his mother and sisters. “Was it lonely?”

He looked at her and shook his head in awe. “You're very perceptive,
chérie.
I missed my family. When I walk here, in the future, I'll think of Katherine with the wind blowing her hair and the smile curving her lips.” He touched her hair and lips, thoughtfully.