Royals: For Their Royal Heir. Эбби Грин
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ever skinny-dipped?’
Leila’s mouth opened and she blustered, ‘No, I certainly have not!’ even as she felt a very illicit tingle of rebellion.
Alix was already pulling off his clothes. He’d changed on the plane before they’d got to Nassau, into a polo shirt and casual trousers. Leila gaped as his body was revealed, piece by mouthwatering piece.
She’d only seen him naked in the dimly lit confines of the Venetian palazzo, and now he stood before her, lit by the glorious sun against a paradise backdrop.
He was stunning. Not an ounce of fat. Hewn from rock. Pure olive-skinned muscular beauty. And one muscle in particular was twitching under her rapt gaze.
Leila’s cheeks flamed and she dragged her gaze up. She sounded strangled. ‘I can’t—we can’t! What if someone comes along?’ She glanced behind her into the trees.
But then Alix was in front of her, his hand turning her chin back to him. She looked at him helplessly and he said, ‘Listen. Just listen.’
Leila did—and heard nothing. Not one sound that didn’t come directly from the island itself. No sirens or traffic or voices. Just the breeze and the trees and birds, and the water lapping near their feet.
‘It’s just us, Leila. Apart from a handful of staff at the house, we’re completely alone.’
A sense of freedom such as she’d never felt before made her chest swell and lightness pervade her body. She felt young and carefree. It was heady.
‘Now, are you coming into the water willingly? Or do I have to throw you in fully clothed?’
Leila started to shrug off her jacket, and said, mock petulantly, ‘Fine, Your Majesty.’
Alix watched her, stark naked and completely blasé. ‘That’s more like it.’
His eyes got darker as Leila self-consciously took off her shirt and trousers, very aware of their chain-store dullness.
When she was in her bra and pants she hesitated, and Alix growled softly, ‘Keep going.’
Leila fought back the memory of that other woman and reached behind her to undo her bra, letting it fall forward and off. The bare skin of her breasts prickled and her nipples tightened. Avoiding Alix’s gaze now, she pulled down her pants with an economic movement, stepping out of them and laying them neatly on her pile of clothes.
She was naked on a beach, in a tropical paradise with an equally naked man. The reality was too much to take in, so with a whoop of disbelief and sheer joy Leila ran for the sea, feeling the warm, salty water embrace her. And then she dived deep under an oncoming wave before she exploded into pieces completely.
* * *
Leila wandered through Alix’s house dressed in nothing but one of his oversized T-shirts, her hair in a tangled knot on top of her head. She’d never been so consistently undressed in her life, and after her initial self-consciousness she’d realised to her shock that she was something of a sensualist, relishing the freedom. Much as she’d exulted in the feel of her naked body in the sea on that first day.
Since they’d arrived at his house after skinny-dipping three days before, damp and salty from the sea, they’d barely left his bedroom. He’d retrieved food from the kitchen at intermittent intervals, and they’d gorged on each other in a feast of the senses. Leila’s inexperience was fast becoming a thing of the past under Alix’s expert tutelage.
When Leila had woken a short time before it had been the first time Alix hadn’t been in bed beside her, or in the shower, or bringing food back to the bedroom. So she’d come to find him.
And now she was taking in the splendour of his house properly for the first time. It was luxurious without being ostentatious. Mostly in tones of soothing off-white and grey. Muslin drapes billowed in the soft island breeze through open windows. It truly was paradise, and Leila felt a pang that her mother was gone and couldn’t experience this.
Little objets d’art were dotted here and there—tastefully. Leila stopped before a small portrait that hung in the main foyer area and her jaw dropped when she realised she must be looking at an original Picasso.
A soft sound from nearby made Leila whirl around, and her face flamed when she saw an attractive middle-aged, casually dressed woman looking at her with a warm smile on her face.
The woman put out a hand. ‘Sorry to startle you, Miss Verughese. I was wondering if you’d like some lunch? I’m Matilde—Alix’s roving housekeeper.’
She had an American accent. Leila forced an embarrassed smile. She hadn’t seen any staff yet. She gestured to her clothes—or lack of them. ‘Sorry, I was just looking for Mr Saint—that is... Alix.’
Matilde smiled wider. ‘Don’t worry, honey, that’s what this island is all about—relaxation. You’ll find Alix in his study, just down the hall. Why don’t I prepare a nice lunch for you both on the terrace? It’ll be ready in about half an hour.’
Leila smiled back at the woman, who was clearly friendly enough with Alix to be on first-name terms. ‘Please call me Leila—and that sounds lovely.’
The woman was turning away, and then she turned back suddenly and said, sotto voce to Leila, ‘You know, he’s never brought a woman here before.’
And then, with a wink, she was disappearing down the corridor, leaving Leila with a belly full of butterflies. She hated it that it made her so happy to know this wasn’t routine for him.
Leila wandered down the hall, with its gleaming polished wooden floors. She heard a low, deep voice and followed it into a room to see Alix, bare-chested, sitting at a desk with a laptop open before him. He was on the phone. And he was frowning.
The room was as beautiful as the rest of the house, with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. Books that looked well used.
He looked up and saw her, and some indecipherable expression crossed his face before he said something Leila couldn’t hear and put down the phone. He closed his laptop.
Leila felt as if she’d intruded on something and put out a hand. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
Alix stood up and Leila saw that he was wearing only low-slung, faded jeans. Her insides sizzled. He looked amazing in a suit and tuxedo, but like this...he was edible.
‘You’re not disturbing me. Sorry for leaving you...’
He came and stood before her and Leila imagined she could feel the electricity crackle between them.
‘I bumped into Matilde,’ she babbled. ‘She seems lovely. She’s making us lunch and it’ll be on the terrace in half an—’
Alix put a finger to Leila’s mouth and quirked a sexy smile. ‘Half an hour?’
Leila nodded.
Alix took his hand away and scooped Leila up into his arms before she knew what was happening. He was soon climbing up the stairs and Leila hissed, ‘She’s making lunch, Alix. We can’t just disappear—’
They were at the bedroom door by now, and the sight of the tumbled bed made Leila stop talking. Apparently they could.
* * *
When they finally did make it down to the terrace, much later that day, Matilde was totally discreet and delivered a feast of tapas-like food. Salads and pasta. American-style wings and ribs. Seafood—spicy fish and rice, crab claws with garlic sauce. Lobster. Chilled white wine.
Leila had wondered if they would even make a dent in the feast laid before them, but just when she was licking her fingers after eating spicy fish she caught Alix’s amused gaze.
‘What?’
He leant forward. ‘You have some sauce on the corner of your lip.’
Leila darted out her tongue and encountered