The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12. Кейт Хьюит
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“You mentioned color in your proposal. That is the reason I provided you with two large pink stones rather than one.” The king’s lips twisted. “Surely you noticed that.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. And I very much appreciate that thoughtful gesture.”
“Thoughtful, and expensive, Ms. Santos.”
“It was a generous thing to do, sir.” Maria drew a breath. “But there are slight variations in the colors of the two pink diamonds. That’s all the more reason for seeing the crown.”
“I refer you, again, to the photographs. I have been assured that digital photos are quite accurate.”
“Not when it comes to color,” Maria said with quiet determination. “Plus, I need to see, to touch the Aristan half of the Stefani diamond.” She flushed. “Stones have a way of speaking to those who work with them, sir. I know it may sound strange—”
“Strange?” Aegeus snorted. “It would seem I was correct in fearing this young woman might be a leftover flower child,” he said to no one in particular, “instead of a jewelry maker.”
“Actually, Father,” Alex said coldly, “Maria is neither.” He felt her body jerk against his. Deliberately, he drew her closer. “She is an artist, and we are very fortunate she agreed to create this piece.” His eyes met Aegeus’s. “I think you owe her an apology.”
The king’s face turned red. No one spoke for what seemed an eternity. Then the queen cleared her throat, stood and took her husband’s arm.
“Aegeus, Alexandros. Please, let’s not spoil the wonderful plans for my birthday celebration. I am so excited about this necklace… Just think, Aegeus, the entire world will be watching when you present it to me. The necklace should, indeed, be as perfect as Ms. Santos can make it, should it not? It should glow with the same light as the Aristan crown, especially since you’ll be wearing the crown that night.”
Silence. A muscle knotted in Alex’s jaw. Then he nodded.
“Mother is right, Father. I’m sorry if I seemed rude, but I spoke the truth. Maria’s talent will ensure that people everywhere will talk of Aristo, its crown and the queen’s matching necklace for years to come.”
The king stood as still as a statue. Then, at last, he jerked his head in assent.
“I’ll make the arrangements. Ms. Santos, you shall have five minutes with the crown and the Stefani diamond. Five minutes, and not a second more. Is that clear?”
Maria stepped free of Alex’s encircling arm and made a deep curtsy.
“It is, sir. And thank you. You won’t regret your decision.”
Aegeus looked at her. A shadow seemed to pass over his face.
“I hope not,” he said, and strode away.
They drove back to the mansion in silence.
The gates swung open; the Ferrari purred down the long drive. When they reached the house, Alex turned off the engine, stepped from the car, opened Maria’s door and thought what an amazing woman she was.
Bright. Talented. Strong.
And lovely.
Incredibly lovely, in the moonlight.
She would be even more lovely in his bed.
Naked. Her eyes on his as he undressed. Her arms reaching for him as he came to her and she would reach for him, he would find a way to make her admit how much she wanted him—and yet, at this moment, what he wanted most was to kiss away the worried furrow between her eyes, the sad little down-curve of her mouth.
He held out his hand. “We’re home,” he said softly.
She nodded, took his hand and stepped from the car.
“Your father will probably send me back to the States tomorrow.”
Alex smiled. “No danger of that,” he said as they walked to the door. “He’s trapped. My mother, clever woman that she is, reminded him that the world will be watching when she celebrates her birthday.”
“Don’t try and make it sound as if I didn’t behave foolishly!”
“The word I’d use is ‘bravely.’”
“I don’t know what got into me. It’s just—”
“What got into you,” he said, turning her to him, “was all that fiery passion you do your best to hide.”
“I don’t hide anything. I just—”
“And you do a pretty good job of it—until something comes along and heats your blood.” He opened the door to the sleeping house, then turned toward her again and caught a cluster of silky curls in his fingers. “Tonight, it was the ridiculous behavior of a king.”
“No. I mean, I only—”
“And your dedication to your art.”
“That’s—that’s nice of you to say, but I made everyone uncomfortable——”
“And me.” His voice roughened. He cupped the nape of her neck, slipped his fingers into her hair and tilted her face to his. “I heat your blood, agapimeni. As you heat mine.”
He bent his head and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, the soft whisper of his lips over hers, but it made him groan.
“Maria,” he said softly, and he felt her tremble. “Maria,” he said again, and her arms rose, wound around his neck; she lifted herself to him, sighed his name and when he kissed her again he went deep. Deeper, letting the taste of her fill his senses, the feel of her feed his soul…
And he knew, without question, that he could not, would not hold her to the devil’s bargain they’d made.
Gently, he cupped her face and drew back. Her eyes opened slowly; she looked up at him, her pupils dark and wide and blurred with desire or perhaps with tears. It killed him that he couldn’t tell the difference.
“It’s late,” he said. “Too late to discuss this tonight.” His gaze fell to her lips. He longed to kiss her again but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. “Can you find your way to your bedroom alone?”
“But I thought—You said—”
“I know what I said.” He drew a ragged breath and then, to hell with it, he kissed her. “I’m not a saint, Maria,” he whispered against her mouth, “but it turns out that I’m not quite the bastard we both thought.”
A sound that might have been a sob broke from her throat. “I don’t understand, Alexandros. What is it you want from me?”
He shook his head, left her standing alone as he headed out into the night.
He didn’t know what he wanted from her.
And that was the whole damned problem.
WHAT did a man do when he was obviously losing his sanity?
It had to be that because he sure as hell wasn’t into martyrdom, Alex thought as he paced through the dark garden. Maybe he deserved a medal. Better still, maybe he should get his head checked by a shrink because right now, right now, instead of burning with frustration, he could be bedding the woman he’d brought across an ocean for expressly that purpose.
Maria had been his. His for the taking.
And he’d walked away.
“Idiot,” he said, kicking a stone out of the path.
Walked away, and for what reason? She’d