The Scandalous Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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to say to her? She felt a flutter of fear, and another more dangerous one of hope. Ridiculous. Stupid. ‘Very well,’ she said crisply. At least she was dressed appropriately this time. Her armour. She glanced down at the column dress of turquoise silk, a collar of diamonds at her throat. Taking a deep, calming breath she headed downstairs.
Ben paced the small, elegant salon he’d been directed to when he’d arrived unannounced at the palazzo. Although the sentries at the door had not betrayed a flicker of surprise or unease, Ben still sensed that he’d seriously disturbed royal protocol by arriving so suddenly.
‘Their Royal Highnesses are hosting a dinner tonight,’ the master butler had told him with a hint of reproach.
‘This won’t take a moment. I need to discuss a few things about the princess’s volunteering duties,’ Ben had replied tersely.
Actually, that was a lie. Two lies. He didn’t know how long it would take, and he had no duties to discuss with Natalia. He didn’t know what he was going to say, only that he’d come here on instinct, or maybe just need. After a day of doing his best to ignore Natalia and yet always remaining achingly, agonisingly aware of her, he knew he had to do something. Say something. Maybe even tell the truth.
Except he didn’t even know what the truth was.
Ben let out a groan of angry frustration. Natalia had been right. He was scared. He hated feeling out of control, had organised his life so he never was. His childhood had been unsettled enough, with his parents together and then apart, his father with money and then without, the tabloids documenting every slip or stumble. Up and down, around and around, like a crazy out-of-control carousel, and Ben never felt like he knew what was going to happen.
Then he’d discovered football and thought he’d found a way to feel in control, to make his father and family proud. For a few short years he’d ridden that wave of success and accomplishment, and when it had been taken from him, he’d turned to business. He’d sought success and respect and he’d gained them. Earned them. And now he felt as if he were poised to lose it all, by falling in love with a woman who was beyond inappropriate, a woman with a history of scandals and affairs that rivalled his father’s. What on earth was he thinking? He couldn’t believe he’d even mentally formed the word love.
He didn’t want love. Didn’t trust it, didn’t need it. And he was not in love with Princess Natalia.
‘You wished to discuss something?’
Ben whirled around, blindsided by Natalia’s sudden appearance. She looked every inch the regal princess in a turquoise silk evening gown that managed to be elegant and modest while still making his palms itch with the need to touch her. Her eyes glittered and her chin was lifted haughtily. She was on the defensive. Could he really blame her?
‘I wanted to talk to you.’
She arched one eyebrow, coldly incredulous. ‘I was with you all day, Ben. Is this really necessary?’ With one golden, slender arm she indicated the palazzo and everything it represented. ‘I’m afraid guests will be arriving at any moment.’
‘This won’t take long.’
She simply waited, leaving him tongue-tied. Damn. Why couldn’t he think of a single thing to say? Do? He wanted to kiss her again. Desperately. If he did, would she push him away?
‘Natalia …’ he began. ‘I’m sorry.’ She said nothing, and he shifted his weight, unbearably uncomfortable, wishing he hadn’t come. Natalia still didn’t speak. Then he decided he needed to do what he’d done when he played football. As a striker, he’d always been a straight player, no tricks, no clever moves. Just honest skill, raw talent driving the ball towards the goal. And that’s what he’d do now. ‘I know I hurt you when I pushed you away from me in the airplane.’
‘Fortunately I don’t bruise easily.’
Frustration bubbled through him. He knew what she was doing. Like any good defender, she was keeping him from an easy, direct goal. Had he thought saying sorry would actually be enough? ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’
She lifted her chin another notch. ‘Like I said, you didn’t.’
‘You know that’s not what I mean.’ She said nothing, but he sensed her tension, felt it in himself. He felt his heart race the way it had when he was seconds away from a goal. ‘I … I care about you, Natalia.’
She stilled, but her expression didn’t change. ‘Thank you,’ she finally said, and Ben nearly had to keep his jaw from dropping in furious disbelief. Thank you? Definitely not the response he’d been going for. Hoping for. He felt like he did on the football pitch in an offside trap. He’d moved too far forward to attempt a goal and she’d moved back, leaving him offside and out of play. Useless. Vulnerable.
‘I didn’t expect to,’ he continued, still trying to explain, to somehow redeem this conversation. ‘I didn’t want to.’
‘That,’ Natalia said coolly, ‘is glaringly apparent.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Is that all you had to discuss? For as I said before, my guests will be arriving at any moment.’
Ben felt a slower anger start to burn inside him. All right, maybe it didn’t sound like much, but he’d confessed more to this woman than he had to anyone else. He’d told her he cared and she’d said thank you.
He drew himself up, fury pounding like a pulse inside him. ‘Yes,’ he told her coldly, ‘that’s all.’ And he strode out of the room without looking back.
Natalia stood very still as she listened to Ben’s footsteps echo on the marble floor of the palazzo’s foyer. If she moved, she felt she might break. Shatter. It had taken all her self-control, all her experience in acting the haughty, aloof princess, to play that role. To act like she didn’t care.
And even now part of her wanted to wrench open the door and follow him through the palazzo, panting about how she cared too. And maybe even more than that.
No. She would not humiliate herself that way. She wouldn’t take the paltry scraps Ben was offering. The realisation had grown in her as he’d stumbled through his awful nondeclaration. This was not what she wanted. It was not enough. If she was going to risk herself, all her vulnerabilities, then she wanted more. She wanted to be known, accepted, loved. The realisation stunned her even as it felt achingly, unbearably right. Yet Ben had barely been able to form the word care. And then those qualifiers: I didn’t expect to. I didn’t want to. Had he actually thought he was saying something she wanted to hear?
She let out a shuddering breath and slowly drew herself up, shoulders back, head tilted. A princess. And a woman, she knew now, who wanted love after all, in all of its fearful beauty and wondrous glory. Not someone who reluctantly, resentfully cared.
Not, Natalia reminded herself, that she would get either. She was about to meet the ambassador of Qadirah, a small island principality in the Arabian Sea, with a thirty-year-old bachelor sheikh and heir to the throne. A possible husband, and she’d never even met him. She didn’t want to.
Walking stiffly, still aching, Natalia turned from the room.
The next day when Natalia arrived at the stadium the camp was in full swing, with Ben at its centre, working hard. She watched him run defense for Roberto, the boy he’d taken on as a young protegé. He was shouting instructions, sweat running down his face in rivulets. He looked amazing, but also angry. At least he had the football pitch to work out his frustrations. She’d had an interminable dinner with more veiled and not-so-veiled references to her salacious past, as well as a private conversation with the ambassador from Qadirah that had included a list of the sheikh’s expectations for a bride. Submissiveness and discretion had figured prominently, not two of her best-known qualities. Natalia had barely slept all night, and her body still ached from yesterday’s pummeling as goalie. Today was not going to be a good day.
Her fears were proved true just half an hour later, when a sudden cry sounded from