A Bride For The Playboy Prince. Sandra Marton
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he didn’t understand crept over his skin.
‘Yes, I’m an aunt. I have a little niece called Tamsin and she’s beautiful. Just beautiful. So that’s my news.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘What about you?’
Luc’s throat thickened with frustration, because ironically he felt so at ease in her company that Lisa would be the perfect person to confide in. To reveal that soon he would be marrying another woman—the Princess from a neighbouring island who had been earmarked as his bride since birth. A long-anticipated union between two wealthy islands, which he couldn’t continue to delay.
And Lisa was a realist, wasn’t she? She’d told him that herself. She might even agree that arranged marriages were far more sensible than those founded on the rocky ground of romance, with their notoriously high failure rate. If he hadn’t wanted her quite so much he might have confided in her, but the truth was that he did want her. He wanted her so badly that he could barely move without being acutely aware of his aching groin, and he was glad she was standing in front of him, concealing his erection from any prying eyes.
But something stopped him from starting the inevitable seduction process—something which felt uncomfortably like the fierce stab of his conscience. For a moment he fought it, resenting its intrusion on what should have been a straightforward conclusion to the evening. He knew how much she still wanted him. It was obvious from the way she looked at him—even if he hadn’t felt her nipples hardening against his chest or heard the faltering quality of her words, as if she was having difficulty breathing. Just as he knew that his desire for her was greater than anything he’d felt for any other woman. The words he’d spoken while they’d been dancing were true.
But his duty lay elsewhere and he had no right to lose himself in her soft and curvy body. No right to taste her sweetness one last time, because what good would it do—other than trigger a frustration which might take weeks to settle? It wasn’t fair to the woman who was intended as his wife, even though it had been twelve months since he’d even seen her. And it wasn’t fair to Lisa either.
He remembered that yearning look on her face when she’d spoken about her sister’s child—a look which indicated a certain broodiness, as women of her age were programmed to be broody. He needed to let her go to find her own destiny, one which was certainly not linked to his.
Reluctantly, he drew away from her and it was as though he had flicked a switch inside himself. Self-discipline swamped desire as it had done for the past two years, and, now that sex was off the agenda, he noticed again the pallor of her complexion and faint shadows beneath her eyes. Suddenly, Luc was appalled at his thoughtlessness and ruthlessness. Had he really been planning to satisfy himself with her and then simply walk away and marry another woman?
Yes, he had.
His mouth twisted. What kind of a man was he?
‘Let’s go,’ he said abruptly.
‘Go?’ She looked up at him in bewilderment. ‘But it’s still early.’
‘You’re tired,’ he said tightly. ‘Aren’t you?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess so.’
‘And you’ve probably done all the sales pitching you can for tonight. The party will really get going in a minute and I doubt whether anyone will be asking you how long your turnaround times are or whether you can make them a dress in time for their birthday party. So let’s just slip away without a big fuss.’
Aware that she was in no position to object, Lisa nodded but her mood was strangely deflated as they walked towards Luc’s waiting car and the sounds of music and laughter grew fainter. For a while back then it had felt so magical and so familiar being in his arms again. She’d felt warm and sexy as he’d held her close and his hard body had tensed against hers in silent acknowledgement of the powerful attraction which still pulsed between them. She hadn’t thought beyond the dance but had thought they might stay like that for most of the evening. But now, with the moon barely beginning to rise and a trip back to her grotty home in London on the horizon—she felt strangely cheated. And embarrassed. As if she had been somehow presumptuous. Because hadn’t she wondered if they might end up in bed together? Hadn’t that been the one thought which had really been on her mind?
Once in the car, she accelerated her Cinderella mood by kicking off the high-heeled shoes and folding herself into one corner of the wide back seat, as if she could simply disappear if she made herself small enough. But Luc didn’t react. He simply took out his cell phone and began to read from the screen. It was as if he had retreated from her. As if she were just part of the fixtures and fittings—as inconsequential as the soft leather seat on which they sat.
So don’t show him you care, she told herself—even though she could feel the unfamiliar pricking of tears behind her eyes. Had she arrogantly thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her? That he still found her as irresistible as she found him? She closed her eyes and leaned back against the soft leather, wondering if she had misread the whole situation.
* * *
Luc stared unseeingly at the screen of his phone until the regular sound of Lisa’s breathing told him she was sleeping. It was torture to sit beside her without touching her—when all he wanted to do was to slip his hand beneath her dress and make her wet for him.
He was silent throughout the journey and it was only as they began to edge towards London that he glanced out of the window and began to notice his surroundings. The city was still buzzy as he leaned forward and quietly told the driver to go to Lisa’s address.
‘You want me to drop you off on the way, boss?’ asked the driver.
Luc glanced at his watch. Tempting to call it a night and get away from the enticement she presented, but he owed her more than waking up alone in an empty car. She didn’t deserve that. The frown at his brow deepened. She’d never given him any trouble. She hadn’t tried to sell her story to the press or to capitalise on her royal connections, had she?
‘No,’ he said. ‘Let’s take her home first.’
But he was surprised when the car changed direction and entered the badly lit streets of an unfamiliar neighbourhood, where rubbish fluttered on the pavement and a group of surly-looking youths stood sucking on cigarettes beneath a lamp post. Luc frowned as he remembered the ordinary but very respectable apartment she’d had before. What the hell was she doing living somewhere like this?
As the car slid to a smooth halt, he reached out and gently shook her awake.
‘Wake up, Lisa,’ he said. ‘You’re home.’
Lisa didn’t want to leave the dream—the one where she was still locked in Luc’s arms and he was about to kiss her. But the voice in her ear was too insistent to ignore and her eyes fluttered open to see the Prince leaning over her, his face shadowed.
Feeling disorientated, she sat up and looked around. She was home—and she didn’t want to be. Still befuddled, she bent to cram her feet back into her shoes and picked up her silver clutch bag. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
‘This is where you live?’
She heard the puzzled note in his voice and understood it instantly. She bet he’d never been somewhere like this in his privileged life. For a split second she was tempted to tell him that she was just staying here while her own home was being redecorated, but she quickly swallowed the lie. Why be ashamed of what she was and who she’d become?
‘Yes,’ she said, her voice still muzzy from sleep. ‘This is where I live.’
‘You’ve moved?’ he demanded. ‘Why?’
‘I told you that Brittany had a baby and the three of them were cramped in a too-small apartment. So...’ She shrugged. ‘We just did a swap. It made sense. I’m planning to get myself something better when—’
‘When business picks up?’ he questioned astutely.
‘When I get around to it,’ she said quickly.