Wedding Party Collection: Marrying The Prince: The Prince She Never Knew / His Bride for the Taking / A Queen for the Taking?. Кейт Хьюит
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he clarified gruffly, pushing away that strange yearning. ‘And the unkind things I said to you. They were neither appropriate nor necessary.’
‘That’s a very formal apology.’
He bristled, instinctively, helplessly. ‘I don’t know any other way.’
She sighed. ‘It’s all right, Leo. I accept your apology.’ She hesitated, and he heard the gentle in and out of her breath, saw the rise and fall of her chest in the moonlight, her breasts barely covered by a scrap of silky negligee. Had she not packed any decent pyjamas?
Of course she hadn’t. This was their honeymoon, and they were meant to be wildly in love.
‘What now?’ she asked after a moment, and he watched as she picked at a thread in the linen sheet with slender, elegant fingers. ‘Do you think we can be friends?’
‘I can try,’ Leo answered, the words drawn from him reluctantly. He hated how weak he sounded. How...incapable. But the truth was trying was all he could do, and he didn’t even know if he could do that very well.
Alyse glanced up at him, blinking in the moonlit darkness, a small, wry smile curving her lips. ‘I can’t ask for more than that.’
‘I still want what I wanted before,’ Leo told her gruffly, the words a warning. ‘A business arrangement, a marriage of convenience.’
Her smile faltered slightly and she glanced away before she met his gaze once more. ‘Business arrangements don’t have to be cold-blooded. Emotionless.’
Oh yes, they did. For him. Because that was who he was, who he’d determined to be, how to act. Not to feel. Not to want. Not to be disappointed or hurt.
‘They can be friendly,’ Alyse continued, her voice holding a hint of humour, of hope. And he wondered just what she was hoping for. How much.
Sighing, he pulled his shirt off and reached for his pyjamas. He changed quickly, conscious of Alyse so close to him, and the fact that despite the rather abhorrent intimacy of their conversation, they still hadn’t been physically intimate yet. And, hell if he knew now when they would be. Sex and emotion did not go together. Yet after tonight he had a feeling Alyse wouldn’t be able to separate them. The last thing he needed was her wanting something more than friendship—something ridiculous, like love.
‘Look,’ he said as he slid between the sheets, knowing he needed to be completely clear, ‘I’m not going to love you. I don’t love anyone and I never have.’
She was silent for a long moment. ‘Is that what you’re worried about?’ she asked eventually. ‘That, in becoming friends, I might fall in love with you?’
‘You might convince yourself you are.’
‘You make me sound deluded.’
‘Anyone who believes in love is deluded,’ Leo said flatly, and he felt Alyse shift next to him, turning to face him.
‘Deluded? Why do you think that?’
‘Because love isn’t real,’ Leo stated. ‘It’s just a hormonal urge, a feeling that changes depending on your mood. It’s certainly nothing I’ve ever pursued or even believed in.’
She was silent for so long Leo, annoyingly, felt a little self-conscious, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have. Revealed more about himself than he’d ever wanted to.
‘If you don’t think love is even real,’ Alyse finally said, ‘then you don’t need to worry about me feeling it, do you?’
He sighed, shifting away from her tempting warmth. ‘I just want to be clear about our expectations. I’m willing to try and be friends, of a sort, but that’s all.’
‘Of a sort?’ She was trying once more for humour but he heard the hurt underneath the wryness. ‘What sort is that, Leo?’
He stared up at the ceiling, the ocean breeze causing the palm fronds of the hut to rustle and sway. ‘I told you, I haven’t had many friends. I’ll do my best.’
She turned towards him, and he felt her breasts brush his shoulder. Instantly he was hard. ‘That’s all anybody can do, isn’t it? Your best.’
He breathed in the fresh, floral scent of her and his whole body pulsed with longing. As carefully as he could he moved away from her softness. Sex, he knew, was out of the question for tonight. But soon, damn it. Very soon. ‘As long as being friends—of a sort—is enough for you,’ he answered grudgingly and even through the darkness he saw and felt her sad smile.
‘I suppose it will have to be,’ she said, and then neither of them spoke again.
ALYSE WOKE TO the warm spill of sunshine and the gentle swooshing of the waves just metres from their bed. She turned to see Leo still asleep next to her, one hand flung over his head, the dark glint of morning stubble visible on his jaw. His lashes, surprisingly long, feathered his cheeks and those all-too-kissable lips were slightly parted. He looked gentler, somehow, in sleep. Softer, almost vulnerable, and so different from the cold, hard man he seemed when he was awake.
She let her gaze move lower and took in his bare chest, the rise and fall of it with each steady breath. Lower still, to the sheet rucked about his waist, his legs tangled beneath it.
Her mouth dried and for a few more seconds she tortured herself by drinking in the male perfection of his body without him knowing. Her gaze was lingering, longing, and completely unrestrained. How would it feel to touch that chest, to slide her hand from shoulder to hip and feel the hot satin of his skin under her seeking fingers?
Desire spiralled dizzily inside her. Never mind wanting to be friends; she just wanted him. For a brief moment she toyed with the idea of touching him. Kissing him awake. But she knew she wasn’t bold enough, was too afraid of his surprise or even rejection.
Yet when would they consummate this marriage? When would friendship and desire meld, if ever?
And dared she still hope for more?
Silently she slid from the bed and reached for the robe that matched her nightgown, yet another ridiculous, silky confection. With one last look at Leo, who still seemed deeply asleep, she slipped out of the hut.
The day was already warm although Alyse suspected it wasn’t much past dawn, the sun having only just risen over the horizon, its golden light pooling on the placid surface of the sea.
She sat on the beach, tucking her robe around her, and sifted the sun-warmed sand through her fingers as last night’s conversation swirled through her mind: Leo’s confession that he hadn’t had any friends, his grudging acceptance that they might be friends—of a sort—and his flat and absolute statement that he would never love her.
Could she really be surprised by that bleak statement? It was no more than what she’d suspected, feared, and had tried to convince herself to believe over the years. And yet...she had believed in the miracle. The possibility of a miracle. She’d lied to Leo last night about that, just as she’d lied to herself over the last six years. She’d clung, stubbornly and stupidly, to the hope that he would learn to love her. That things would somehow miraculously change.
And she still clung to it now. Alyse’s mouth twisted in a grim smile as she acknowledged the truth. Despite everything Leo had said, she still hoped he might come to love her in time, that physical attraction and possible friendship might deepen into the kind of love he didn’t even believe in.
The smarter thing to do would be to let go of that hope, let it trickle away like water in sand, and get on with what was possible. Alyse knew she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. She’d keep hoping, keep believing, because thin vapour that it was, hope was all that sustained her.
And why shouldn’t Leo love her? Why shouldn’t it be possible, eventually,