Romancing the Crown Series

by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)

  Elena seemed quite relieved to have a safe topic of conversation. "How involved would you want to be, as a partner?"

  "Very," he said emphatically.

  Even in the low light of the fire and the candle on the table at her side, he could see that Elena blushed. "I suspected as much, after watching you work the past few days. With that kind of involvement, you might want to...live here, at least part of the year."

  "Most definitely."

  "But..." she laid her eyes on his face. "Hassan, I have not been able to convince my father that having you as a partner would be a good idea. He's reluctant to trust anyone outside the family with anything as important as ownership, no matter how small the percentage might be."

  It crossed Hassan's mind, briefly, that he could become family...

  He shook the thought off. "Perhaps I should meet with your father. I can be very persuasive, you know."

  "Maybe next week. As you can tell, he doesn't spend much time at the refinery, or in the office. He prefers to let me handle the day-to-day operations, but he does make regular appearances. He insists on having the final say in all major decisions, like this one."

  "Who does the hiring?" he asked.

  "We both do," she answered. "And some of the hiring is left to Umair."

  Umair was Malounian, openly suspicious, and protective of Elena. As plant manager, he would have full run of the refinery. While it wasn't necessary that the Brothers's contact at the refinery be in a position of power, it would certainly be helpful. "You say he has been with the company for many years."

  "Almost since the beginning."

  Plenty of time to build an army. Hassan clenched his jaw. Whoever had made the Rahman refinery the American base for the Brothers had used Elena. They had broken her trust, taken advantage of her. The very idea made him a little crazy. It wasn't right.

  "I believe I saw some paperwork on your desk concerning the Maloun National Trust," he said, taking a chance and pressing forward. "You are a large supporter?"

  Elena smiled, not at all concerned about his curiosity. "Yes. Rahman Oil has been a sponsor of the Trust for many years."

  "Do you have any idea how the money you donate is used?"

  Elena nodded. "Much of it is used for building schools, and most of the rest goes to a food bank. Maloun is not as fortunate as Tamir. It is a poor country, and the people need all the help they can get."

  She seemed sincere. Did she have no idea that the Maloun Trust was a front for the Brothers of Darkness? That the money she had donated was used to purchase weapons and to hire mercenaries? If she had an inkling, she hid it well. He did not think she was such a good actress.

  The rain did not abate, but a shift of the wind sent drops pattering against the windows. The old house was drafty, and the candle flames danced.

  "Would you like something to drink?" Elena asked, almost nervously. "There are some sodas in the pantry, and there should be plenty of ice in the freezer. It hasn't had time to melt, yet."

  Hassan shook his head. He did not want Elena to move. She looked too good, sitting there with the firelight on her face and the fear of something unknown sparkling in her eyes.

  "Well, I'm parched," she said, jumping up quickly and leaving her rocking chair, padding across the main room of the house toward the kitchen. As she reached the end of the room, she snagged a candle and carried it with her.

  Hassan couldn't help himself. He stood and followed her.

  She had placed the single candle on the kitchen table, where they had shared a meal not so long ago. The candle cast just enough light for her to see what she was doing as she took a glass from the cupboard and ice from the freezer. When she saw him standing there, she assumed he had changed his mind and took down another glass. More ice. When she went to the pantry, where all was dark, he followed her, crossing the room on silent bare feet.

  This was a terrible idea. He should have stayed in the living room, sitting on the couch twiddling his thumbs. The last thing he needed to do was to touch Elena. He wanted her too much. There was too much unresolved between them.

  But one more kiss. Surely there would be no harm in something so simple and necessary.

  She turned and stopped in the pantry doorway, a soft drink grasped in each hand, a look of surprise and anticipation on her face. Trying to appear calm and unaffected, Elena held one of the cans aloft. "Will this be all right? It' s all I..." she held her breath as he took the two cans from her and reached just beyond her shoulder to place them on a shelf. "Have," she finished softly.

  With his hand on her chin, Hassan forced Elena to lift her face. A flash of lightning cast its brilliant, too-brief light through the kitchen window, lighting her well for a moment.

  Elena was not a woman accustomed to seduction. She knew how to handle the rigors of business, she managed finances and company problems each and every day without so much as a single qualm. But she did not know how to handle a man who wanted her to distraction.

  And he did want her to distraction. He forgot his mission, his purpose, everything.. .when she looked at him this way.

  "Hassan," she whispered as he lowered his mouth toward hers.

  "What?" his mouth brushed hers, barely touching, teasing them both.

  "Nothing," she sighed in surrender, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.

  * * *

  She didn't want to fight anymore. She just wanted to feel. And this—Hassan's kiss, his arms around her, his body against hers—felt so right.

  He turned her about gently and pressed her spine to the pantry door frame, as he deepened the kiss. She had always known his mouth was wicked, from the first moment she'd seen him. But this.. .the attention he lavished on her was truly sinful. Truly, deliciously sinful.

  Desire.. .she had forgotten what it felt like. How powerful it could be. As strong as the storm that raged outside, it shot through her body. It made her weak-kneed and sent a deep, slow shudder shifting through her entire body. Hassan slipped his tongue into her mouth, and she answered with a gentle exploration of her own.

  Her fingers threaded through the strands of hair at the back of his neck. It was a connection she needed, and she didn't want to ever let go. Doubts intruded, but she pushed them aside. Maybe she did need to call a halt to this...but not yet. Not yet.

  Hassan's hand raked up her side to cup one breast in his palm. The touch was gentler than the kiss, tentative. Did he think she would push him away? No. She couldn't, not even if she wanted to. A moment later a thumb rocked up and across her nipple, and she quivered in response.

  Hassan's arousal pressed against her. There was no denying his response to this kiss. Elena knew she should remind herself of where she was, who she was, why she should call a stop to this here and now. But she didn't. Hassan was a luxury she would not have long, and she wanted to enjoy every moment, every kiss, every shudder. She had thought she would never shudder like this again...

  While one hand caressed her breast, the other dropped from her hip to her thigh and traveled gradually upward until he touched her intimately, his fingers barely touching her through the thick denim of her jeans.

  She was tempted to spread her thighs, take Hassan's face in her hands, and invite him into her bed. This feeling was too powerful to toss away, too wonderful to deny. But one realization stopped her. Hassan Kamal had the power to break her heart, a power no one else in this world possessed. She already loved him a little, she supposed. His smile lit up her heart, and she looked forward, with great anticipation, to every moment they spent together. She dreaded the day he would leave.

  And he would leave. He might talk about buying into the refinery and making a home here, but whatever personal connection they had wouldn't last. Hassan thrived on excitement, and there was so little excitement to be had in her life. He wouldn't stay. He would break her heart. If she were a more modern woman she would be satisfied with the here and now. She would take the pleasure he offered and not worr
y so much about tomorrow. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not separate the workings of her body from the workings of her heart.

  "I want you," Hassan whispered as he moved his mouth to her neck, kissing an easy trail from just beneath her ear to her shoulder.

  Elena opened her eyes and let her head fall against the door frame. "I want you, too," she responded, her voice just as soft as his own. "But... we can't do this."

  She expected an argument from him, something heartfelt and charming and impossible to deny. But there was no argument. Hassan very slowly shifted his body so it no longer pressed against hers. He took his mouth from her neck and dropped his hands, muttering something in what sounded like French. She could not decipher the words, but if his tone was any indication it was a curse that slipped through those magnificent lips.

  "I know," he said simply, and then he turned and walked away.

  * * *

  Hassan lay in his bed in the guest bedroom, staring at the ceiling. The T-shirt and blanket Elena had provided as clothing had been thrown across the chair by the bed, and he slept naked beneath soft, white sheets. The rain had not stopped, but it didn't pour as it had before and the lightning and thunder had ended. The electricity remained off, as the darkened digital clock on the table attested. A single candle burned at his bedside, beside the useless clock. The house was silent, and Elena slept just a few feet away, just down the hallway in her own bedroom.

  If she had not called a halt to the kiss that had gotten out of hand hours ago, he would have had her there where she stood. He would have stripped her there in the kitchen and made love to her as the storm pounded the house. That could not happen. He sensed that there was something special between them, something he had never experienced before. If he took Elena now, if he claimed her in the way he so badly desired, what would she say when she found out the real purpose of this visit? And she would find out. He could not leave her behind, and when this was all over he could not continue the lie. She deserved the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

  The sooner this mission was finished, the sooner they could get on with their lives. He wondered if there would be so much as a chance for that life, once Elena knew the truth.

  Sleep eluded Hassan. No matter how complicated his life became, he could always sleep. Not tonight. His desire for Elena and his need to please his father and serve his country were at war, and in his heart he knew who had to win. He could not sacrifice the needs of his country for a woman. Not even for a woman like Elena.

  He had been scheduled to call Rashid hours ago, but there was nothing to be done. The phones were out, and even if he had been bold enough to ask to borrow Elena's cell phone, she got no signal here so far from everything and everyone. Rashid would simply have to wait.

  Frustrated, he threw back the sheet and stood. If he wasn't going to sleep, why lie here and torture himself? Elena spent time here. If she was involved in some way with the Brothers, however small, would there be a clue? Some tiny detail she had forgotten?

  Hassan wrapped the blanket around his waist and knotted it at his hip, took the candle from the bedside table, and left the bedroom. He wanted to walk to the end of the hallway and open the door to Elena's bedroom, but he fought the urge and stepped from the hallway into the main room. His eyes raked over the room, coming to land on the desk in the corner. If only the electricity would come back on so he could peruse that computer. He didn't need more than ten minutes with the machine. Ten minutes, but he could do nothing as long as the computer was without power.

  He placed the candle on the desk by the computer and opened the top drawer. Pens, pencils, paper. Nothing at all incriminating. Good. There were three drawers down the side. He opened them all, and found nothing unusual. More candles, matches, note cards, folded maps. He was looking in the bottom drawer when he heard the floor squeak. Tossing the drawer closed, he hurried toward the fireplace and picked up a poker. He was playing with the almost dead fire when Elena stepped into the room.

  He turned, poker in hand, and found himself facing an armed woman. Elena, dressed in a prim cotton nightgown that fell to below her knees, wielded a baseball bat as if she knew, very well, how to swing it.

  When her eyes met his, she lowered the bat.

  "I couldn't sleep," he said as he set the poker aside. "I didn't mean to wake you."

  "I couldn't sleep, either," she said, walking toward him with the baseball bat swinging in her hand. "And I thought I heard..." her eyes swept over the dimly lit room. "I thought I heard someone prowling around."

  "You thought you heard a prowler, and you came out to confront him with a baseball bat?" Hassan asked, more than a little bit horrified.

  Elena smiled wanly. "I'm pretty good with a baseball bat," she teased.

  Hassan remained terrified at the picture in his mind—Elena confronting a burglar armed only with a bat. "Don't you have a gun?"

  He was still several feet away, and still he saw her shudder. "I don't like guns," she said softly, her smile completely gone.

  He thought of the weapon in her drawer at work, but said nothing. How could he?

  "I could have sworn I heard drawers opening and closing. Were you in the kitchen?"

  Hassan's eyes looked over Elena's shoulder, and his heart dropped to his knees. The bottom drawer, the one he had been searching, was not completely closed. The candle on the desk lit that evidence clearly.

  Elena began to turn.

  "Yes," he said, stepping toward her. "I was in the kitchen. I thought you might have something that would help me sleep."

  "Sleeping pills?" she asked, only hesitating in her rotation.

  "Tea," he said quickly. "I thought I could heat some water over the fire and make some tea."

  "The tea bags are in the pantry." A moment longer, a small rotation, and she would be looking directly at the desk and the telltale drawer.

  Hassan reached Elena and laid stilling hands on her shoulders. No matter what, she could not turn around and look at that desk. "I don't think tea would do me any good," he confessed. "You keep me awake, Elena. You. How am I supposed to sleep when you lay so close to me? How can I rest when I know I can't have you?" The truth came easy at a time like this. "You wouldn't understand."

  Her eyes were on him, her search of the room forgotten. "Of course I understand. Why do you think I can't sleep?"

  He took the bat from her hand and propped it against the nearest chair. Elena shook her head and started to turn away once again. If she continued, she would see the partially opened drawer. She would know he had been snooping in a place where there were certainly no tea bags. Hassan stopped her the only way he knew how: He grabbed Elena quick and kissed her.

  She opened up under him like a flower in the rain. There was no resistance in her kiss, no hesitation in the way she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, as if she needed to hold on in order to remain on her feet.

  He lifted Elena off her feet, bringing her face in alignment with his own. Their mouths barely touched, brushing and teasing, and then the kiss turned deep. Arousing. Their tongues danced, and deep inside him an unstoppable passion flared to life.

  "I have wanted you from the moment I first saw you," he confessed as the kisses turned soft once again.

  "When you thought I was my secretary," she said with a smile he tasted.

  "Yes," he breathed. "If you tell me that you don't want me I will let you go, I swear. I won't believe you," he added lowly, "but I will let you go."

  Her fingers gently played with his hair. "It's not that I don't want you," she said. "But..."

  "But what?" he prompted when she faltered.

  She rested her forehead against his. "It's been a very long time since I.. .since I felt this way."

  "How long?"

  "Since Johnny died," she confessed in a low whisper. "Eight years."

  He closed his eyes, and felt a moment of pain for a grief so deeply suffered. "Why now?"

  "I don't know. I on
ly know that I want you, and that I trust you." She rested her head on his shoulder. "And I'm afraid. I'm never afraid, Hassan. Never."

  He didn't ask what scared her, because he knew. That knowing was like a knife, sharp and painful. She was afraid of being hurt. Not physically, but in her heart. The lies he'd told would hurt her; the truth, when she learned it, would hurt her.

  "But the desire is stronger than the fear," she whispered. "I need you." She kissed him sweetly, briefly, her tender lips barely touching his, a caressing hand brushing against his bare chest. Her fingers trembled, her lips quivered. "Make love to me."

  Hassan carried Elena to the rug before the fire, laid her there and hovered above her for a long moment. With an easy hand, he began to unfasten the buttons of her cotton nightgown. This was what she wanted, what he wanted as well, more than he'd ever wanted anything. It was right. The right woman, the right place. And yet.. .this was not the right time. There was too much left unsaid between them. Too many secrets.

  What was left of his conscience fled when Elena reached down and unknotted the blanket at his waist, tossing back the ends and uncovering his nakedness. Her hands raked down his back to his hips, where they rested possessively, soft and yet strong.

  He lowered his mouth to hers, but did not kiss her. "No matter what," he whispered, "tonight is for us, Elena. Nothing else matters, nothing but this."

  She agreed with a nod of her head and an encouraging shift of the hands that held him, a telling shift of her hips as she unconsciously aligned herself to him.

  "Just us," he said again, kissing her softly, quickly, then drawing away. "There's nothing of importance

  outside this room. Not tonight."

  Chapter 9

  Rain pattered on the roof and the windows, and wind howled as it buffeted the old house. The fire Hassan had stirred flickered and then died down, the glow it cast giving the night a dreamlike fuzziness that would be so very easy to get lost in.

  Elena wanted, so much, for this night to be just for them, as Hassan said it was. He touched her, and she no longer thought about the past or the future, but savored the moment in which she lived.