by Leslie Kelly
He didn’t doubt she knew what he meant. In one of their late-night conversations in his bed, he’d told her about that, admitting he’d made mistakes in his effort to save women from their own sad situations.
She’d told him the day she needed a man to save her was the day she gave up her sword for a funeral shroud.
“Don’t worry about it.” She wrinkled her nose. “The real ones—noble and chivalrous, sweeping their ladies off their feet—are all gone. Those who are left are flatulent and crass.”
“Such a romantic,” he said, laughing as he bent to kiss her softly, gently.
She kissed him back, sliding her arms around his neck, pressing hard against him, as if she feared letting go. But she didn’t relax in his embrace, remaining tense, a little stiff.
A hint of worry began to crawl up his spine.
When the kiss ended, he said, “Okay, beautiful. Go have fun playing war.” His voice light, he added, “When can I expect you to join me?”
Her eyes dropped closed.
And that’s when he knew why she’d been tense.
“You’re not coming,” he whispered.
She shook her head.
“Ever.”
Another shake, and her eyes opened again. They swam with moisture, emotion. “I can’t, Rafe. My duty…”
“Is to yourself,” he snapped. “Or it should be. To your own happiness. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
She licked her lips, then stepped back, her body hardening even as her voice grew soft and tremulous. “I want to be with you. Truly. But I have promised Ruprecht I would take Verona away and guard over her so she doesn’t try to cause trouble. I fear she might try to incite a civil war.”
“There are plenty of other soldiers in this kingdom,” he said, not believing she was choosing this solitary, sad life over what they had together.
“It’s a great honor to be asked,” she murmured. “I will be high in the king’s favor, which means…”
“That your family will be, too.”
She nodded once.
He couldn’t let it end like this, couldn’t let her walk away. “Don’t do this. Come with me, Liv.”
The prince cleared his throat, and at their feet, the two guards groaned as they started to come around. Loud bells began to peal and he knew the kingdom was being called to celebrate the impending crowning of the new king.
They sounded like the bells out of Poe’s nightmare. Like sadness, loss. The end.
“Don’t,” he urged her.
“I have no other choice,” she whispered. “Goodbye, Rafe.”
Then, turning her back to him, the woman he loved walked solemnly to her monarch, and led him to his coronation.
CHAPTER 9
Ten Days Later
THE DOWNTOWN SAN FRANCISCO bar was packed.
Laughing, drinking revelers filled every table, and each bit of floor space was taken up with women in tight dresses and men trying to look down them. The exchange of drinks and smiles for meaningless sex was all but given.
A meat market.
Olivia hadn’t understood that term before. Now she got it. And considering how many of the women here had been talking about the hot, sexy lead singer of the band, as if he were a juicy side of mutton and they a pack of hungry dogs, she definitely did not like it.
As she stood in the shadows, in a corner near the door, she tried to figure out what she was going to say to Rafe when they finally came face-to-face.
It probably depended on his expression. Would he be happy to see her? Would he possibly repeat those amazing words he had whispered before she’d leapt out of the castle window?
I love you.
Did he still? Could he possibly still care for her after she’d rejected him, choosing her career, her duty, her family, over what they could have together?
She’d regretted that choice as soon as she’d turned around and walked away from him. It had been all she could do not to let the prince see the tears filling the eyes of his strongest, most powerful guard.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. They would be the first words she would say. She only hoped he would want to hear the rest.
She’d been watching him for an hour, having slipped into the bar while his band performed, but staying out of sight. It had been enough to watch him for a while, drink in his familiar face while noting the slight gauntness in his cheeks and the weariness in his eyes.
He looked unwell. As if he’d been sick, or hadn’t slept for a fortnight.
She understood. Their separation had been the same for her. She hadn’t slept a full night since she’d let him get away.
“Last call!” the man behind the bar said, his voice rising to be heard over the song Rafe and his group had started to perform.
Time was running out. No more lurking in the shadows, waiting with the kind of uncertainty she had never, in her life, felt about anything. She took a deep breath and eased through the throng, winding her way toward the stage.
Listening to the song, she never took her eyes off the singer. As she moved, she thought about the first time she’d laid eyes on him, the way she hadn’t liked his music.
Now she knew why.
It stirred her, aroused her, and she hadn’t been able to deal with that before. Never having felt desire, she had been uncomfortable with the instinctive way her body had reacted to his raw, sensual performance.
Now that she understood, she realized why her heart was pounding and she felt edgy. Aware.
Rafe’s raspy voice defined sexy, and the evocative word pictures he painted made her think wild, sensual thoughts. The hard, thrumming beat reverberated deep inside her, reminding her of the way they would lose themselves in deep, pounding passion.
Oh, she definitely liked his songs now. She thought she could listen to him sing every day for the rest of her life and always react with that primal hunger.
“Hey, watch out…” someone said as she pushed past the final few people surrounding the stage.
She ignored them, knowing immediately when Rafe spotted her. He stumbled over his words, falling silent right in the middle of a verse.
Olivia looked up at him, seeing the shock on his handsome face. Shock—but nothing more that she could identify. His eyes didn’t light up with happiness, nor did he smile in greeting. And he said not a word. Instead, he simply stared down at her, hard, intensity rolling off him as the seconds dragged on and he continued to ignore everyone else in the room.
Then, without a word, he pulled his instrument—his guitar—up and off his shoulders. He shoved it to one of his surprised-looking bandmates. Olivia held her breath, not knowing if he was going to storm out without even speaking to her. It would be no more than she deserved.
She let the breath out when he hopped off the stage right in front of her. And sighed with utter happiness when, still saying nothing, Rafe lifted his hands, slid them into her hair and pulled her forward to kiss her.
Flooded with joy, Olivia threw her arms around his neck. Parting her lips, she kissed him back, deeply and hungrily. She pressed against him, soaking up the heat and power of his sweat-slicked body, inhaling his manly scent, letting herself believe he was really here and really wanted her and she was never going to be parted from him again.
Finally, he ended the kiss, but he didn’t let her go, continuing to cup her face.
“What are you…”
“I’m sorry!”
They smiled as their words overlapped.
“It took me a while,” she said, “but I got here.”
“Have to slay any dragons along the way?”
“Not yet,” she said with a shy smile. “But you never know.”
He kissed her again, even deeper this time, and she began to shake, her legs trembling as desire and emotion and love and gratitude flooded her body.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said when they drew apart.
“Yes, please.”
Without warning, he bent and swooped
her off her feet, one powerful arm looped beneath her bare knees, the other curled around her back. Every place his fingers touched, her skin tingled with delight.
He carried her like a damsel, easily, as if she weighed nothing at all. For the first time in her life, Olivia felt feminine and claimed, cherished and wanted.
Glancing over his shoulder at his friends, he mouthed something. They nodded, smiling broadly at Olivia. She smiled back, thinking about this new life she’d have to get used to—meeting other people, getting to know them in this strange new place.
There were good things to explore—like television, and the movies Ruprecht had gone on about. There were also bad ones—like stoplights and exact change. Olivia felt ready to confront them with all of her warrior’s heart, as long as Rafe was right there with her. Or, sometimes, carrying her.
She tightened her arms around his neck, amazed at how much she liked this. Being literally swept off her feet.
“No more knights, huh?” he whispered, laughter in his voice.
Olivia didn’t reply, she merely dropped her head onto his shoulder and tucked her face against his neck.
The crowd, who’d been watching wide-eyed, parted as Rafe carried her to the door. She saw a few women frown, but most of them smiled, as if they themselves had been given renewed hope for their own prospects because of Rafe’s romantic display.
It was indeed…knightly.
Once they were outside, he kept walking, not putting her down even when they left the crowded club far behind them. She recognized the street and knew they weren’t far from his building. Keeping her head on his shoulder, her lips close enough to his neck to press soft kisses there, she was content to be carried like this, in silence, knowing all that needed to be said would wait until they were in the privacy of his home.
They were there in minutes. After he carried her inside and let her down to shut the door behind them, Rafe kissed her again, slower this time. That mind-numbing, toe-curling pleasure washed over her and she wanted to draw him down onto the floor to show him how sorry she was in the most elemental way possible.
But she needed to say some words first.
“I made an awful mistake,” she whispered, drawing back to look up at him with every bit of sorrow she felt.
“I know,” he told her, not sounding arrogant, just certain of how much he knew her. And them.
“I regretted it the minute I walked away from you. Had things not ‘gone south’ and had I not had to battle one of Verona’s men to the death, I would have come after you immediately, long before you could reach the border.”
He sighed deeply, lifting his eyes toward the ceiling and muttering something. She suspected it had to do with that to-the-death part, though she didn’t know why, since her presence here proved she wasn’t the one who’d died.
“Is everything all right in your homeland?” he asked, as if wanting to get the particulars out of the way before they proceeded to the things that really mattered—like their relationship. “The prince?”
“Now king,” she told him. “Fine, happy.”
“Married?”
She shook her head. “Hardly. His fiancée was safely escorted home and Ruprecht has introduced the court to his closest advisor, Jess of the Californias.”
A low rumble of laughter built in his chest. But it didn’t emerge from his lips, and he wasn’t smiling as he asked, “And the queen?”
“She fought. Or tried to.”
He squeezed her tightly.
“And for that, she was banished. The former Queen Verona is ensconced in the coldest, draftiest castle in the middle of a swamp with a dozen Amazons guarding her night and day. She will never leave that place.”
“And who is leading this troop of Amazons?”
“Not I,” she told him, lifting a hand and placing it on his chest, right above his beating heart. “I oversaw Verona’s incarceration, stayed in Grand Falls long enough to make sure Ruprecht’s throne was secure and his enemies routed, then resigned my commission.”
He peered into her eyes, searching for something, some words she hadn’t yet offered. It terrified her, baring herself in such a way, but he had done it first, that day she’d left him at the castle. How could she be any less brave than he had been at that moment, when he couldn’t be entirely sure she would return, or what would happen if she failed?
“I love you, Rafe,” she whispered. Her voice shook, so she repeated the words. “I love you with every bit of my scarred warrior’s heart.”
His eyes gleamed as he reached for both her hands. “I love you, too,” he said. “I love your warrior’s heart and your intelligence and your loyalty and your spirit. I want you forever, Olivia.”
“Truly?”
“Oh, yes.” They kissed again, softly, then he led her to the couch and pulled her down upon it, cradling her in his lap.
“That question you mentioned, the day I left, are you still going to ask it?” she whispered.
“What question?”
Frowning, she prodded, “Wasn’t there something you were going to ask me?”
She distinctly recalled something about a bride and a wedding night and a woman who was so not a virgin anymore.
She, the leader of the Amazons, was holding her breath, waiting for a marriage proposal she had never thought she’d want but now couldn’t wait to accept.
He cocked his head in confusion. “I don’t follow.”
“That day I left, you said that when we were free, you were going to ask me a question.” Suddenly fearing she’d misunderstood, she bit the corner of her lip. “Oh. Have you already asked it? When you asked me to come with you?”
“As I recall, I didn’t ask you to come with me,” he said, tossing off the reply as if it didn’t matter. “I told you to.”
Seeing the twinkle in his eyes, knowing he was doing this strange thing he called teasing, she tightened her arms and scowled. “Stop it.”
“You know, even though you’re not an Amazon anymore, you’re still really hot when you’re mad.”
“Rafe Cabot!”
He ignored her, waving down at her body. “Speaking of you not being an Amazon anymore, please tell me you get to keep the uniform.”
“I’m never going to wear it again after this night if you don’t stop teasing me!”
Laughing softly, he kissed her forehead, her cheek, her jaw. Then, finally, he slid out from underneath her, dropping to his knees on the floor.
“Olivia, will you stay with me, always? Will you stop being the guard of a king and settle for being the guard of my heart…as my wife?”
She nodded solemnly, knowing this office, this role, was one she would never want to give up all the days of her life. And though she was not a poet, and had never had use for pretty words, she felt the need, just this once, to speak what she truly felt, right down to her soul.
“I will, Rafe. I’ll marry you.” She lifted a hand to cup his face. “I’ll slay dragons for you. I’ll refrain from killing saucy wenches who dare to flirt with you when you sing. Someday I’ll have your children.”
They shared a tender smile. Then Olivia added one more vow.
“And I’ll stay by your side until there’s nothing left of either of us but the memory of how very much we loved each other.”
EPILOGUE
AND SO BEGAN THE REIGN of King Ruprecht the Merry.
Once considered a fop and a bit of a fool, the young king proved to be as good and respected a monarch as his own much-loved father had been. He had the old king’s happy manner, and none of his wicked mother’s evil ways.
His sense of justice became as famous as his sense of fashion, and no other ruler in all the lands could throw a better party. Under his rule, Grand Falls became the most modern of all the kingdoms, being the first in all of Elatyria to introduce such things as electric lights and a place called a movie theater.
Those closest to Ruprecht did notice that, every once in a while, he seemed a bit…changed. Some da
ys, he would appear a little taller, his shoulders a bit more broad, his voice more decisive.
The romantics of the court believed it was because his one true love, denied him all his life due to her status as a commoner—and a former Amazonian—had returned for a lengthy visit to her homeland. With her beautiful children in tow, she had to be a sad reminder of the life the bachelor king might have lived.
The more observant members of the court knew better. They saw the depth of warmth and emotion Ruprecht shared with his closest advisor, Jess. And they noted that every time King Ruprecht seemed to be a different person altogether, Jess would be gone from court for weeks at a time.
None of them knew, of course, that the real Ruprecht, and his dearest love Jess, left once in a year to headline in Vegas. Or that his handsome double covered for the king because of their long-standing friendship.
As for the Amazon warrior and her rock-and-roll singing husband, they lived a long and happy life together in a place called California in the kingdom of the U.S.A. While she went to work catching villains as a city constable, he built her a beautiful chalet overlooking the bay. Together, they filled it with several children.
And every other Saturday, on something they called “date night,” she would dig out her old leather skirt and top, and her sexy spike-heeled boots. Then her knight in shining armor would carry her to his tower and remind the warrior princess what being a woman was all about.
Would anyone hire a wedding planner who was left at the altar?
The answer, Kate Hartley has found out, is no. And if Kate can’t pull off the wedding of the century for her new clients, a Hollywood power couple, her career may be over!
Read on for a sneak peak of TEMPTING KATE
by Jennifer Snow,
available only from Harlequin Blaze!
CHAPTER 1
“We are live in twenty seconds.”
Twenty seconds.
Kate Hartley scanned the set of Today’s Woman, but she couldn’t locate an escape.
