He sighed and dropped his forehead onto her head. His eyes closed, his hand caressing her stomach without her aid now.
“I take it that it’s a bargain then.”
She felt him nod in agreement as his lips sought hers in a kiss that left her in no doubt as to his answer.
THE END
———
Coming Soon:
King Tariq of Ma’in
To find out when Diana’s next book is published, you can sign up to her newsletter here, or via her website—dianafraser.net.
Diana Fraser’s Books
—Desert Kings—
The Sheikh’s Bargain Bride
Lucy and the Sheikh
King Tariq of Ma’in—coming soon
—Italian Lovers—
The Italian’s Perfect Lover
Seduced by the Italian
The Passionate Italian
—The Mackenzie Brothers—
The PA’s Revenge
Books 2 & 3—coming soon
***
Lucy and the Sheikh
A love affair that must not last...
Inveterate traveler, Lucy Gee, sails to Sitra to find her missing sister, Maia, who was last seen in the arms of the King. Lucy doesn’t do long-term relationships, especially with men she suspects of kidnapping her sister, but when she meets the King she falls for him hard. She just has to control her attraction long enough to find Maia, but not long enough so she loses her heart. Two weeks should do it.
Sheikh Razeen ibn Shad was never meant to be King: his father had made that clear. But, with his father and brother both dead, he’s determined to do his duty, even if it means entering into an arranged marriage with a Sitran Princess to gain the approval of his countrymen. But he has two weeks before he has to choose a wife. Two weeks in which to have an affair with Lucy. What could go wrong?
Excerpt:
King Razeen ibn Shad looked across the calm waters of the bay, silvered under the light of the bright moon, and watched his old friend climb aboard the yacht. It had been a good night: dinner and conversation with someone who wasn’t his employee or his subject, someone who didn’t want something from him. The shared laughter and memories made the loneliness afterwards even harder to bear. But he had no choice. His country had to come first.
He was about to turn away when a flash of white on the calm waters drew his attention. He narrowed his eyes and saw a swimmer: arms cutting through the sea in a sleek action designed to move fast through water, designed not to disturb the calm surface, designed not to be seen. And it would have worked if he hadn’t been watching so closely.
He moved to the shadow of the palm trees that fringed the beach and watched the faint movement on the water come closer. The beach was off-limits until the scientific survey of the coral reef his friend was undertaking was complete. Until then, no-one had permission to be here. Last time they’d had intruders, they’d lost part of the coral forever. He’d make sure it didn’t happen again.
Lucy stepped out of the sea onto the still-warm sand, squeezed the water out of her long hair and walked up the beach. After a day spent preparing food below decks, she’d needed a swim—and what a swim. The water was as warm as the soft air that now caressed her body. She breathed deeply of the fragrant air and looked around.
The beach was a perfect crescent of white sand under the sheltering sweep of the palm trees. On one side of the small bay a rocky promontory jutted into the water, marking the beginning of the coral reef the scientists on the boat were here to study and on the other side she could see the uneven outline of mangrove trees.
She’d travelled all over the world but nowhere came close to the perfection of this unspoiled place. The white sand was almost luminous under the starlight and three-quarters moon. The beach was empty: no lights, no people and no sound but the distant hoot of an owl and the seductive splash and drag of the waves. She was quite alone. The only sign of habitation was a low-lying mansion in a neighboring bay and the yacht, bobbing lazily out near the reef.
Perfect. Or it would have been if she didn’t have to set her plan into action the next day.
Praise for Lucy & the Sheikh
“…Diana is one of my favorite authors and her newest release is another winner. Lucy and the Sheikh has complex and exciting characters and a very interesting plot making it a definite must read!!!!!!!!!!” (Amazon.com)
***
—Italian Lovers—
Half price! All three books available in the
Italian Lovers Boxed Set
***
The Italian’s Perfect Lover
Falling for the perfectly handsome Alessandro Cavour, Count di Montecorvio Rovella, is the last thing archaeologist Emily Carlyle needs as she recovers from the physical and emotional scars inflicted by an ex-boyfriend. But she can’t avoid him when she finds out he now owns the estate where she's discovered an ancient Roman site.
Restoring one particular mosaic on the site has become an obsession with Emily—one which Alessandro can't understand. He has no interest in digging up the past because, despite appearances, he bears his own scars. Consumed by guilt over the death of his wife and son, commitment-shy Alessandro lives only for the pleasures of the present. But he hadn’t reckoned on falling in love. And love, he discovers, forces difficult choices...
Excerpt:
…She shivered as he sat down beside her and turned to look at her closely, questioningly, his hand trailing slowly up her leg.
“You looked lost in your thoughts, Emily. Tell me what you were thinking about?”
“You can’t expect me to think as you run your hand up my leg.”
“Umm. That’s tricky. Do I want your mind, in which case I should stop distracting you or do I want your body?”
“Better choose my mind. In case you hadn’t noticed we’re in a plane with people working just the other side of that door.”
“True. It is a beautiful mind and an interesting mind—a rare combination—but one mustn’t forget the body. It can have a profound effect on one’s mind.” His hand didn’t stop moving up towards her thigh.
She clamped her hand on top of his. “It’s having one on mine. It’s telling me that we’ll be landing soon. There’s no time.”
“We have half an hour yet before we land.”
He pushed his hand further up her thigh and she felt her hand slip away from his, allowing him freer access. Her body melted under his touch, her mind ceased to function as she felt the soft drag of his nails climbing further up her inner thigh. She felt herself quiver with anticipation and longing.
She swallowed hard. The light was too bright up here. She just couldn’t. Not yet.
“I’ve got, well, reading to do.”
He laughed. “Reading? Are you mad?” He kissed her long and slow on her lips, his finger now sliding between the elastic of her panties and her super-sensitive skin.
She gasped. “Alessandro! Someone might come in.”
“No, they won’t. It would be more than their life or their job is worth. But we can go to the bedroom if you like. I’ll take off your clothes one by one and make love to you under the brilliant sun of the Alps.”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll stay here if you don’t—”
“That’s fine with me.” With one swift movement he yanked down her panties. “Don’t move an inch. I promise not to rumple your beautiful new clothes.” He flicked back her seat and she landed on her back on the cushions with a yelp, that turned into a sigh, that turned into a small cry of ecstasy that was drowned by the thrum of the jet as it flew high across Europe...
Praise for The Italian’s Perfect Lover
“Dark, Dramatic and Dynamite! I read this book in one day—it was an emotional and compelling read and completely impossible to put down.” (Amazon)
***
Seduced by the Italian
Secrets and seduction...
Isabella, Contessa di Sorano, has a heart-breaking secret that's de
stroying her. But, when her father's debts force her to sell the Castello Romitorio and accept a lucrative contract from her ex lover, she can no longer avoid facing the pain of her past.
Luca Vittori's only desire is to fulfill his promise to his grandmother, of hiring Isabella to redecorate the castello, before he leaves once more. After all why would he want to be with someone who'd rejected him in the cruelest way, without explanation?
But the best-laid plans can fail when faced with a passion that ignites at the merest touch and a seduction that threatens to destroy before it can heal...
Excerpt:
…Isabella sighed, kicked off her shoes and curled up on the window seat of the western tower of the Castello Romitorio. It had been a long day. The party continued downstairs but she couldn’t face it—nor him. Here, in this empty room, she was safe. For today, at least, because tomorrow it would be her home no longer. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift.
It was the draft of cooler evening air that first alerted her to his presence. A chill wave of alarm swept through her body as she snapped open her eyes to see the figure of a man standing in front of one of the large stone-framed windows. The saffron rays of the evening sun shone directly behind him, lighting up the motes of dust he’d disturbed and illuminating only his silhouette: shadowed face turned toward her, broad shoulders, elbows jutting as he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Her voice was hoarse as if forced through a filter of raw emotion.
“I’ve come to see you.” His voice was deeper than she remembered.
With his face partly in shadow, she couldn’t see his expression. She didn’t want to see his expression. Awkwardly she looked down and then away, out of the window, anywhere but at him. “Well, you’ve seen me. Now perhaps you’ll leave.”
He walked up to her and she felt his presence encroaching on her space as much as his physical body. Both were more than she could deal with.
He stopped immediately behind her. “Are you ever going to look at me?”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“It’s usual.”
She turned slightly toward him, her head still lowered, unwilling to reveal anything to this man who had once meant so much to her; the man who had been instrumental in bringing disaster to her and her family.
“It’s usual to be on time for your grandmother’s funeral. It’s usual to be with the woman who’d raised you when she’s dying. It’s usual to have kept in contact with her over the years. I think you have no sense of what is, and what isn’t, usual.”
She twisted in her seat and slipped her shoes back on her feet. Her hand trembled as she smoothed her already smooth hair, checking its length was intact in the perfect, low knot.
“Cara, I’ve long since come to believe that nothing is usual. Least of all my life, least of all yours.”
His voice had softened, had become a caress that melted something she’d frozen long ago. She looked up at him then and what she saw wasn’t what she’d expected to see.
***
The Passionate Italian
Passion wasn’t high on Rose’s agenda growing up in poverty: survival was, independence was, but not the crazy, elemental passion that she’d found with Giovanni Visconti. But, after a year together, the passion had twisted into jealousy and control and Rose had disappeared—seemingly unable to deal with her husband’s passionate nature.
But, two years later, Giovanni tracks Rose down. He’s discovered something that makes him realize that there was more to Rose’s departure than he’d first thought, and he’s determined to control his jealous passions in order to prove to his wife that she can trust him. But Rose is keeping secrets from him—secrets with the potential to destroy more than just their relationship…
Excerpt:
…“So you don’t want me to work. How exactly do you propose we spend the next 20 hours or so?”
He dropped his hand and she released her breath, not realizing that she’d been holding it.
“I need to know you again.”
His voice sent chills down her spine. There was an uncertainty evident in the rougher tone that she’d never heard before.
Her pulse raced at the implications of his words, their ambiguity, their potential.
“Why?”
He shook his head. “No more questions.”
“It can’t all be on your terms. Tell me. What do you need to know about me, that you don’t already?”
His brow dipped into a brief frown, his dark eyes darkening even further as if a shadow had passed over them.
“Consider it an interview—a prolonged interview. There are things I wish to know and which I will discover. We’ll begin now but it won’t end tonight.”
“When then?”
“When I discover what I need to know.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It is my question I wish answered. Now get back into bed again.”
She shivered, confused and doubtful.
“Ask me whatever it is. Let’s get this over with.”
“There is no rush.” He moved to the phone and ordered some drinks. “We have all the time in the world.”
She sat down before her legs gave way beneath her.
“That time is gone, Giovanni, don’t you understand? The time for talking, for listening, for understanding—it’s gone.”
“You refused to do talk to me before, you gave us no time. Now, here is your chance.”
“A chance I don’t wish to take.”
“You have no choice.”
A discrete knock at the door was followed by the steward bringing in drinks and snacks. He laid them out on the coffee table and left without raising his eyes or talking. He was too well trained and well paid—too used to attending to his boss in a bedroom with sundry women—to make small talk, Rose supposed. Besides, the tension in the air was palpable.
“Drink?”
She shook her head. “One question then. Just one for tonight.”
He laughed, “You’ve misunderstood. There will be no questions. I can get my answers without questions.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“I wouldn’t what? Touch you?” He pushed the cover back off her. “Yes, Rose, I would.”
“What can you hope to gain by violence?”
“Have I ever been violent with you?”
“No. Of course not—”
“Then I suggest it’s unlikely I ever will be.”
“Then what question are you trying to answer? Tell me that.”
“A question that only your body can answer. Not your mind, not your voice, nothing else.”
Heat simmered deep inside. She gasped at the intimation, the suggestion of what he was about to do to her.
“You would not take me by force.”
“You are not listening to me. I am interested only in your body’s responses to me, not in satisfying any physical needs of my own. No matter how pressing.” He didn’t smile, didn’t move, simply held her gaze, watching, assessing, alert.
He put down the cup of untouched espresso and brushed her hand briefly, with the palm of his hand. The gesture had an simplicity that took her breath away. Then he withdrew his hand, leaving her own hand sensitive, aware of the lingering sense of warmth of his touch. He stood over her, watching, his gaze traveled the length of her, from her chest that, she knew, betrayed her increased heart rate and rapid breathing, to her jean-clad legs.
He walked away and flicked off the light, leaving on only the reading light beside the bed. Its light pooled on and around only her, leaving darkness and all its unknowable potential beyond her.
There was only this moment in time, with him and her. That sense of timelessness caught and held her, stemming the questions, the things she knew she should say, the things she knew she couldn’t say. He was right. Her body held her in control now. And he was, had always been, master of that…
Praise
for The Passionate Italian
“I found this a very good book—entertaining and stimulating and ultimately a very satisfying reading experience...long enough to allow for good story and plot development and to develop characters that are realistic and basically very human.” (thebookbinge.com)
***
—The Mackenzie Brothers Series—
The PA’s Revenge (Book 1)
Cassandra Lee doesn’t do emotion. Why would you want to feel anything when your son and father have died in horrific circumstances? Why would you want to do anything other than exact revenge on the man you hold responsible for the tragedy? Revenge is her only focus so she studies his business and revamps her image with the aim of becoming his PA and sabotaging his fortune.
The Sheikh's Bargain Bride (Desert Kings) Page 16
