Wedding Party Collection: Marrying The Prince. Кейт Хьюит
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I suppose?’
She let out a little huff that almost sounded like a laugh and amazingly, absurdly, Leo felt his heart lighten. ‘Unfortunately not.’
She shifted in the bed, and he saw the slinky strap of her nightgown fall from one shoulder. His gaze was drawn inexorably to the smooth skin of her neck, her shoulder, and then downwards to the warm curve of her breast. Despite the tension that still vibrated between them, he felt the insistent stirring of arousal. He forced himself to look up into her eyes, and saw she was watching him with a wary expectation.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘For what, exactly?’ He heard a thread of humour in her voice and to his surprise he found himself matching it.
‘It must be really bad, if there are options. Have you compiled a list?’
‘That sounds like something you would do.’
He let out a tired huff of laughter and raked his hand through his hair. ‘Yours is probably a lot longer than mine.’
‘Maybe not,’ she said softly, and something in him twisted. Yearned.
‘I’m sorry for the way I handled our conversation,’ he clarified gruffly, pushing away that strange yearning. ‘And the unkind things I said to you. They were neither appropriate nor necessary.’
‘That’s a very formal apology.’
He bristled, instinctively, helplessly. ‘I don’t know any other way.’
She sighed. ‘It’s all right, Leo. I accept your apology.’ She hesitated, and he heard the gentle in and out of her breath, saw the rise and fall of her chest in the moonlight, her breasts barely covered by a scrap of silky negligee. Had she not packed any decent pyjamas?
Of course she hadn’t. This was their honeymoon, and they were meant to be wildly in love.
‘What now?’ she asked after a moment, and he watched as she picked at a thread in the linen sheet with slender, elegant fingers. ‘Do you think we can be friends?’
‘I can try,’ Leo answered, the words drawn from him reluctantly. He hated how weak he sounded. How...incapable. But the truth was trying was all he could do, and he didn’t even know if he could do that very well.
Alyse glanced up at him, blinking in the moonlit darkness, a small, wry smile curving her lips. ‘I can’t ask for more than that.’
‘I still want what I wanted before,’ Leo told her gruffly, the words a warning. ‘A business arrangement, a marriage of convenience.’
Her smile faltered slightly and she glanced away before she met his gaze once more. ‘Business arrangements don’t have to be cold-blooded. Emotionless.’
Oh yes, they did. For him. Because that was who he was, who he’d determined to be, how to act. Not to feel. Not to want. Not to be disappointed or hurt.
‘They can be friendly,’ Alyse continued, her voice holding a hint of humour, of hope. And he wondered just what she was hoping for. How much.
Sighing, he pulled his shirt off and reached for his pyjamas. He changed quickly, conscious of Alyse so close to him, and the fact that despite the rather abhorrent intimacy of their conversation, they still hadn’t been physically intimate yet. And, hell if he knew now when they would be. Sex and emotion did not go together. Yet after tonight he had a feeling Alyse wouldn’t be able to separate them. The last thing he needed was her wanting something more than friendship—something ridiculous, like love.
‘Look,’ he said as he slid between the sheets, knowing he needed to be completely clear, ‘I’m not going to love you. I don’t love anyone and I never have.’
She was silent for a long moment. ‘Is that what you’re worried about?’ she asked eventually. ‘That, in becoming friends, I might fall in love with you?’
‘You might convince yourself you are.’
‘You make me sound deluded.’
‘Anyone who believes in love is deluded,’ Leo said flatly, and he felt Alyse shift next to him, turning to face him.
‘Deluded? Why do you think that?’
‘Because love isn’t real,’ Leo stated. ‘It’s just a hormonal urge, a feeling that changes depending on your mood. It’s certainly nothing I’ve ever pursued or even believed in.’
She was silent for so long Leo, annoyingly, felt a little self-conscious, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have. Revealed more about himself than he’d ever wanted to.
‘If you don’t think love is even real,’ Alyse finally said, ‘then you don’t need to worry about me feeling it, do you?’
He sighed, shifting away from her tempting warmth. ‘I just want to be clear about our expectations. I’m willing to try and be friends, of a sort, but that’s all.’
‘Of a sort?’ She was trying once more for humour but he heard the hurt underneath the wryness. ‘What sort is that, Leo?’
He stared up at the ceiling, the ocean breeze causing the palm fronds of the hut to rustle and sway. ‘I told you, I haven’t had many friends. I’ll do my best.’
She turned towards him, and he felt her breasts brush his shoulder. Instantly he was hard. ‘That’s all anybody can do, isn’t it? Your best.’
He breathed in the fresh, floral scent of her and his whole body pulsed with longing. As carefully as he could he moved away from her softness. Sex, he knew, was out of the question for tonight. But soon, damn it. Very soon. ‘As long as being friends—of a sort—is enough for you,’ he answered grudgingly and even through the darkness he saw and felt her sad smile.
‘I suppose it will have to be,’ she said, and then neither of them spoke again.
ALYSE WOKE TO the warm spill of sunshine and the gentle swooshing of the waves just metres from their bed. She turned to see Leo still asleep next to her, one hand flung over his head, the dark glint of morning stubble visible on his jaw. His lashes, surprisingly long, feathered his cheeks and those all-too-kissable lips were slightly parted. He looked gentler, somehow, in sleep. Softer, almost vulnerable, and so different from the cold, hard man he seemed when he was awake.
She let her gaze move lower and took in his bare chest, the rise and fall of it with each steady breath. Lower still, to the sheet rucked about his waist, his legs tangled beneath it.
Her mouth dried and for a few more seconds she tortured herself by drinking in the male perfection of his body without him knowing. Her gaze was lingering, longing, and completely unrestrained. How would it feel to touch that chest, to slide her hand from shoulder to hip and feel the hot satin of his skin under her seeking fingers?
Desire spiralled dizzily inside her. Never mind wanting to be friends; she just wanted him. For a brief moment she toyed with the idea of touching him. Kissing him awake. But she knew she wasn’t bold enough, was too afraid of his surprise or even rejection.
Yet when would they consummate this marriage? When would friendship and desire meld, if ever?
And dared she still hope for more?
Silently she slid from the bed and reached for the robe that matched her nightgown, yet another ridiculous, silky confection. With one last look at Leo, who still seemed deeply asleep, she slipped out of the hut.
The day was already warm although Alyse suspected it wasn’t much past dawn, the sun having only just risen over the horizon, its golden light pooling on the placid surface of the sea.
She sat on the beach, tucking her robe around her, and sifted the sun-warmed sand through her fingers as last night’s conversation swirled through