Royal and Ruthless: Innocent Mistress, Royal Wife / Prince of Scandal / Weight of the Crown. Robyn Donald
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thought should have filled her with dismay, but although it was strange to realise that she’d lost her control so completely to a man she barely knew, she felt nothing but happiness, deep and sure and powerful.
Anyway, she was beginning to find out more about him. He was kind and thoughtful, as well as being incredibly sexy. He was also extremely intelligent, and he wanted the best for his country and his people.
She sat up straight and looked through the side window at the starlit night. Pride was a hard thing to deal with, she thought with a wry smile, but at the moment it was all she had—pride and this unwanted, out-of-character desire that had blossomed so swiftly.
And would, she knew, come to nothing; the best thing she could hope for was for it to burn out in the fierceness of passion. She didn’t expect Rafiq to reciprocate. He’d be embarrassed if he knew just how eager she was to discover what making love with him was like.
Better by far for him to believe she was enjoying a torrid affair with him, a holiday fling…
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked, stopping the car outside the huge doors of the castle.
‘Just—drifting.’ Her cheeks heated at the lie.
He switched off the engine and smiled ironically at her, moonlight outlining the autocratic angles and lines of his features. Her heart swelled, and she let herself be carried away by the wave of hunger that had been threatening to break over her all evening.
This, she thought with a desperate recklessness, was worth any pain that might lie in the future. Anything.
Inside the castle, Rafiq suggested a nightcap. ‘We have our own distillery here. I know you enjoy wine, but at least once you should try Moraze’s rum. It is mellow, and filled with the essence of flowers.’
After the first small sip, she agreed, ‘You’re right; it’s delicious.’ Tension bit into her, and she walked over to a window, clutching the glass as she gazed out onto the lagoon, that shimmered silver beneath the black sky. ‘I’ll always remember Moraze like this,’ she said on a half sigh. ‘It’s everyone’s secret ideal of a tropical island, filled with flowers and sunshine and laughter.’
And moonlight, and passion…
Rafiq’s voice came from close behind her. ‘It’s not all charmingly romantic. We have the occasional hurricane, and there have been tidal waves. And although the islanders’ smiles are warm, they also cry.’
She turned her head slightly, nostrils flaring at the subtle, evocative scent—pure alpha male—that teased them. ‘That’s life, isn’t it?’ she said lightly. ‘Always the bitter with the sweet. But for tonight I think I’ll let my inner romantic indulge herself.’
He bent his head and kissed the back of her neck, sending tiny, sexy shivers through her. ‘It will be my pleasure to allow her full rein,’ he said, and let his teeth graze her skin.
The shivers transmuted into arrows of golden anticipation, darting from nerve end to nerve end to summon responses from every cell in her body. Whatever happened, she had this, she thought, turning to meet his intent eyes. And for tonight, this was enough.
‘Kiss me,’ he commanded between his teeth. ‘For hours I’ve been watching your mouth, imagining it under mine. Kiss me.’
Smiling, she took his face between her hands. Her fingertips tingled as they shaped out the forceful lines of his jaw, traced his beautiful, relentless mouth, travelled along the high, aristocratic sweep of his cheekbones. Excitement beat high in her, filling her bloodstream with stars, summoning a witchery of desire that ached through her in a slow, languorous tide, melting her bones.
Rafiq bent his head, and flames sparked between them as his lips came down on hers.
With an odd sigh of relief Lexie sank against him, surrendering herself to the magic of this moment, this place—this man.
It satisfied some more than physical hunger when she felt his body harden against hers, his arms tighten, and the muted thunder of his heart drown out hers. To know that she could do this to him was an aphrodisiac in itself.
‘You’re sunlight and moonlight in my arms,’ he said against her mouth, punctuating each word with a kiss. ‘Golden and warm. Yet behind those blue, sunlit eyes there are secrets, depths as deep and mysterious as a star-shadowed night.’
‘No secrets,’ she said, but she’d lied and he knew it. She saw the change in his eyes.
And because she couldn’t bear to spoil this, she qualified with a wry smile, ‘No important secrets, anyway. Just the usual things no one wants to admit to.’
He held that mercilessly penetrating look for a moment more, then his dark lashes came down and he smiled, an almost humourless quirk of his lips.
‘We all have secrets,’ he said, and kissed her again before putting her away from him, and saying in a cool tone that set a distance between them, ‘I think you need rest. You say you are completely recovered from the accident, but there are still traces of shadows beneath those lovely eyes.’
Although disappointment and frustration ached through her body, she smiled and nodded and went with him.
At her door he picked up her hand and kissed the palm, then closed her fingers over it. ‘Sleep well,’ he said quietly, and left her.
Hours later, she thought grimly that any darkness beneath her eyes was due to the time she spent awake each night, sleep driven away by highly coloured, erotic fantasies.
But when sleep finally came it somehow transmuted the keen frustration of the previous night into serene acceptance. The next day Rafiq took her for a picnic to a secluded bay on one of the royal estates. They ate in the soft, whispering shade of the casuarinas, and swam in milk-warm water, and even though they barely touched, Lexie had never been so happy. It was delicious to be given time, to feel no pressure from him at all, even though she knew he wanted her.
He made no secret of it. His glances, his smiles, the narrowed regard that set her heart pounding, all told her so. Their lovemaking, she thought dreamily as she got ready for the hotel party that night, would come when they were both ready. Until then she was content to float along in this passion-hazed dream.
Of course she wore the flame-coloured dress with its matching high-heeled sandals, and applied cosmetics with the skill and expertise she’d learned from her sister. When she was ready she stepped back from the enormous mirror and gave her reflection a swift, secret smile.
Be careful—be very careful—her mind warned, but she knew her heart wasn’t going to listen. Her emotions seemed to be riding a roller coaster, the gentle acceptance of the day banished by a cocktail of adrenalin and anticipation pulsing like drugs through her veins.
At the bottom of the staircase she spared a compassionate glance for the photograph of his sister Hani. Why didn’t he mention her?
Perhaps the grief of her untimely death was still too raw.
When she entered the salon, Rafiq was talking into a mobile phone, speaking with forceful authority in the local Creole French.
He looked up as she came in, and to Lexie’s astonishment, and a forbidden, heady delight, she got her look—a green glitter of stunned, intense desire.
Only for a moment—he gathered himself together almost immediately—but her foolish, wayward heart rejoiced while he terminated the conversation and snapped the phone shut.
For the rest of her life she’d hug to her heart the memory of that split second of passionate hunger.
‘That colour does amazing things to you.’ His voice was controlled and level. ‘Do you understand French?’
‘No. I do speak Maori.’ And Illyrian, but she wasn’t going to admit to that—it could lead to questions she didn’t want to answer.
They took the coast road to the new hotel. Lexie looked around