by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"He got into some trouble in America. I wasn't there to help him."
The harshness he couldn't screen out of his tone brought Nadia to her feet. She crossed to his side, the aura of her distinctive perfume fogging his senses. "How long ago did you lose your brother-of-the-heart?"
"A few months ago."
She touched his arm. The lightest of caresses, meant to communicate her understanding of his loss. Instead, he felt a sense of arousal that only made him feel worse.
"Not enough time for the grieving to stop," she said.
He placed his hand over hers. "Does it ever stop?"
"Perhaps not, but it becomes bearable with time."
"For you, too?"
She nodded. "At one time I thought I would never feel whole again. Now I do. We must accept the will of the Almighty and go on."
"Conrad would have agreed with you. He was a great fatalist."
"And you?"
"I'm with Dylan Thomas when it comes to raging against the dying of the light."
"So you don't see yourself going gently?"
He gave a sharp laugh. He might have known she would recognize the quote. "Hell, no. When the time comes, I'll have to be dragged kicking and screaming every step of the way."
Her fingers curled around his, her no-nonsense artist's fingernails teasing his palm. "Now I understand why you fought so hard for our lives today. I haven't had the chance to thank you properly."
Before he knew it, she had bent down and found his mouth. The kiss should have been a thank-you, sisterly and chaste, but he couldn't help himself. He had to have more.
He got to his feet and wrapped his arms around her, putting into the kiss all his love of life and thankfulness that he had been able to preserve hers for her. And for him.
Nadia felt her head spin as Gage deepened the kiss. What on earth had possessed her to kiss him, when there were far more suitable ways she could have shown her appreciation? She had known she was playing with fire the moment she crossed the pavilion to his side. Had she hoped he would take control of the situation and give her what she craved in her most secret heart?
This.
The night, the stars, the call of the swans, all combined to create the most magical backdrop she could possibly imagine for a kiss. Held in Gage's strong arms, she felt at once peaceful and caught up in the most exquisite turmoil. How could she feel both at once? Somehow he made it possible.
His lips roved over her face, her eyelids, her forehead, tasting every inch of her as if he could never get enough. As his questing mouth returned to hers, fire tore through her, the flames consuming what was left of her reticence. They had nearly died today. But for Gage's skill and fast thinking, she wouldn't have the choice of whether to kiss him or not. She wasn't sure she had the choice now.
Her senses swam and she let her head drop back. He trailed a line of kisses over her exposed throat, his tongue gently lapping at the fast-beating pulse and sending it into orbit.
"Oh, Gage," she breathed, panting with the exhilaration he made her feel.
"Am I going too fast for you?" he asked. "Should I stop?"
She almost panicked, fearing that all the unbridled emotion was on her side—until she saw the answering fire in his eyes. "Please don't stop. I couldn't bear it, not now."
He threaded his fingers through her hair. "I don't think I could, either." He cradled the back of her head in his palm, his gaze clouding. "This wasn't why I followed you here."
"Does it matter?"
"It matters to me. I have strong principles against moving in on another man's woman."
Her heart raced in instant objection. Was he going to abandon her, after all, in the name of principle? "You're wrong," she said huskily. "I may be engaged to Butrus, but I don't belong to him."
"Engaged will do," he said unsteadily, and moved as if to release her.
She clung to him. "You don't understand. The marriage is my father's wish. I agreed to it to please him. Today I realized I can't go through with it. I intend to tell my father."
Gage lifted her hand and grazed her knuckles with his teeth, sending shivers of sensation rebounding through her. "Sheik Ahmed won't like that."
"Neither will Butrus, but they'll have to accept my decision."
"Won't they ship you off to a harem, or something?"
"I don't care. It would be better than marrying a man I don't tr.. .love."
She saw Gage's interest sharpen. "You were going to say you don't trust Butrus, weren't you?"
She looked away, but he caught her chin and gently turned her to face him. The compassion and caring she saw in his gaze was almost her undoing. "Yes," she whispered.
He slid his thumb along the line of her jaw. "Why not?"
It was hard to think straight when he did that. She made the effort. "According to Nargis, those men who arrived to meet with Butrus are American criminals. He won't say why they're here or what connection he has with them. This...this isn't the first time he's had dealings with such people. I'm afraid he may be involved in something bad. He may be betraying Tamir."
"He was keen enough to get us out of the way before the meeting began," Gage added thoughtfully. "In fact, we were nearly put out of the way permanently."
"Oh, Gage." Her throat closed as she remembered how close they had come. She slid her hands around his back. He felt so strong, so alive. The steady beat of his heart reaching her through her robe was like a celebration of life. Tremors rippled through her and she never wanted to let go.
"Have you told anyone your suspicions?" he asked.
"How can I? My father would think I was trying to discredit Butrus as a suitable husband."
"And are you?"
"That would go against all I have been taught about my duty," she said, drawing herself up. "I would rather face my father's wrath directly than try to undermine his confidence in Butrus without just cause."
Gage's hold tightened. "I'm sorry for suggesting it. I needed to know."
"Why?"
He debated how much he could safely tell her. "Some of us in the.. .diplomatic corps suspect Dabir, as you do. We would like to find proof of any illicit activities on his part before he harms your country's interests." It was the truth, as far as it went.
He saw her lovely eyes narrow. "I thought there must be more to you than meets the eye. Are you some kind of spy?"
"Sure," he said in a low-pitched Scottish brogue. "The name's Weston, Gage Weston."
She took a swipe at him. "Be serious. Someone tried to kill you today. Could it be because of your interest in Butrus?"
"Possibly."
"Gage, you must stop this before you are hurt or killed. Tell the police about your suspicions and let them handle this."
"Doesn't Dabir serve as your minister of police?"
She understood immediately.
He felt a shiver take her and held her closer. "Don't be frightened, Princess. Whatever can be done is being done. As long as you're not involved, you're safe." Dabir wasn't going to risk harming the person who could bring him ultimate power. His horror at today's near miss was proof enough.
Gage's use of her title had been mocking before. Now he said it like a caress, and her blood heated to fever pitch in response. "I don't think I want to be safe," she said on a heavy exhalation of breath.
"What do you want?"
She shuddered again. In her society what women wanted was rarely a consideration. Being expected to articulate her needs so boldly filled her with confusion, but she saw that Gage really wanted to know.
"I want you," she said in a voice barely above a whisper, knowing she had never spoken more truly in her life.
"Are you sure?"
The churning inside her made her wonder, but she said firmly, "I've never been more sure of anything."
When he didn't seem shocked, she became bolder. "What do you want, Gage?"
He took so long answering that she wondered if she had miscalculated. At last he said unsteadily, "Yo
u know I want you."
She was heartened to see that he was as uncertain about this as she was, although she suspected their reasons were very different. For all her thirty-five years, she was still hopelessly inexperienced. Her only taste of seduction had been with Gordon, and theirs had been such a whirlwind affair that she wondered now if the forbidden nature of the liaison had made it seem more intense than it really was. These days she had difficulty remembering what he had looked like.
She would never feel that way about Gage. Every sharply delineated line of his ruggedly handsome features was imprinted on her mind. Ten years from now she'd be able to paint him from memory and no one would doubt the subject's identity.
She knew well the source of Gage's uncertainty. Her royal status made many people feel uncomfortable around her. Normally she did all she could to make them feel at ease. Now she wished desperately that she could cast aside her crown for this one night and come to him as an ordinary woman.
"I know this isn't easy..." she began hesitantly.
Questions sprang to his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Can't you try to forget that I'm a princess? Treat me as you would any woman. It's what I want, honestly."
She was puzzled by the laughter infusing his expression. She drew herself up angrily. "I don't see what's so funny."
He caught her hands in one of his and lifted them to his mouth, kissing her fingers. "I'm not laughing at you," he assured her.
"Then what?"
"You think I'm worried because you're royalty?"
"It has a way of coming between me and other people."
"Not this time." His dark warm gaze lent weight to the assurance. "If you must know, I was worried about.. .consequences."
She felt her cheeks heat and was grateful for the shadows cast by the flickering lanterns, shielding her embarrassment. "I see." She couldn't keep the defeat out of her voice. How could he satisfy the aching need vibrating between them without the risk of pregnancy?
He couldn't, and she wasn't so much of a rebel that she would take such a risk. When she had a child, it would be loved and wanted and welcome in the world, not conceived in moonlight with a man she might never see again.
She half turned away, a thick knot of despair filling her. "I'd better return to the house."
He caught her by the shoulders and spun her back. "I have some protection with me in my wallet, but I don't want you getting the wrong idea."
"I'm sure it's all right," she said stiffly. What was the matter with her? A moment ago she'd been plunged into despair because she thought he couldn't make love to her. Now she knew he could, she was as nervous as a serving girl about to cope with her first royal banquet.
Watching her, Gage wondered if he was going crazy. He wanted to make love to Nadia more than he had ever wanted anything. Yet something held him back. Despite her belief, his reluctance had nothing to do with her royal status. She didn't know it, but his blood was every bit as blue as hers.
It was Nadia herself who terrified him. She was younger in experience than her years. He gathered she'd only known one man in her life, and he wasn't too sure how far that had gone. She was bound to have dreams of what love should be like. Gage hated the thought of disappointing her.
He touched her cheek. How flawless her skin was. How dark and compelling her eyes. Surely if he shared with her all that was inside him, it would be enough. It had to be. He didn't know how to give more than all he had.
Chapter 13
Not giving himself any more time to think, to doubt, he swept her up into his arms. She lay as lightly as thistledown, laughing as she linked her hands around his neck. "There's no need to carry me, Gage."
He smiled down at her lovely face. "You wouldn't deny a man who nearly died today this simple pleasure, would you?"
"When you put it that way..."
For pure enjoyment, he swirled her around the pavilion, delighting in the way the moonlight kissed her raven hair with silver and turned her skin to silk. One jeweled slipper went tumbling to the floor. She kicked the other off and wiggled her bare toes, which were painted an opalescent pink. "This feels amazing."
"It does, doesn't it?" He kissed her gently and placed her on the divan, gathering cushions to support her head. His heart thudded with anticipation.
Lying against the cushions, she looked every inch a fairy tale princess, her diffident expression part of her charm. He reminded himself to take things slowly, give her time to adjust to this new experience, to him.
She smelled of jasmine, roses and something else, a faintly musky scent that tantalized his senses, challenged his self control.
Nadia had never before been so conscious of a man's appraisal. In her society it simply wasn't done for a man to gaze so openly at a woman. Husbands and wives might do so in the privacy of their boudoir, but in the open air and the moonlight, far from the forbidding eyes of a chaperon, it was unthinkable.
She knew she should feel ashamed for letting Gage look his fill, for encouraging his attention by stretching her arms over her head so that the swell of her breasts was outlined by her yellow robe.
Instead, she felt womanly and alive, desirable and wanton, cherished and beautiful all at the same time. She told herself she had no need to be nervous. She had invited this and she wanted him with all her heart. She knew he would be careful.
Knowing that didn't stop the nerves from leaping inside her, constricting her breathing and making her heart pound. Anyone would think this was her first time. In a sense, it was. She and Gordon had had so little time to explore, to touch, to discover each other. Of necessity, their lovemaking had been quick and furtive, not at all satisfying because of the fear of being found out. Why didn't she feel that fear now?
Because the man was Gage. How could she be afraid of anything when he was strong enough and sure enough for both of them?
Keeping one leg on the floor for balance, he knelt beside her on the divan and leaned over her. The heady male scent of him washed over her as his mouth found hers.
This kiss was different. Deeper, more giving but more demanding. He teased her lips apart, sending spirals of need eddying through her as he explored with tongue and teeth, tasting, nipping, enticing, until she felt drugged by desire.
The night air whispered against her legs as he slid her robe up her body. She felt herself go rigid. Years of conditioning urged her to deny him such intimacy, to cover herself and escape.
"It's all right, my princess, I won't hurt you," he said softly, feeling the tension coiling through her. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do."
She summoned the strength to allow his touch and was glad when she heard him murmur, "Beautiful, so beautiful." She began to relax, to open to him.
Suddenly his muttered oath made her eyes widen. He was seeing her bruises from today's helter-skelter ride, bending his head to kiss each one in turn. "My poor princess."
She didn't feel like a poor princess. She felt like a queen as he kissed each faint blemish. She was almost glad they were there, so delightful were his ministrations. When he returned to her mouth, she gave a sigh of pure satisfaction.
He seemed to have all the time in the world, losing himself in her kiss as if that alone could satisfy him. She fervently hoped not, because she could feel building within herself such a volcano of need that she could burst into flame at the slightest spark.
His clever hands were everywhere, stroking, teasing, as if he was blind and exploring her by touch alone. Each gentle caress brought new shivers of pleasure until she was a mass of them, floating, dreaming, drifting, wanting.
Over and over he murmured her name. Not her title this time, but her name, as if it was the most beautiful name imaginable. She found herself repeating his name until the fragrant night air sang with the wonderful sound of it.
More words poured from him, reassurances, although she needed none now. For the first time in her life she understood why such words were called sweet nothings. They meant nothing o
f consequence, but they were so very sweet.
When her English became insufficient for the words she wanted to say to him, she used beautiful, poetic Arabic, calling him the sheik of her heart and other ancient endearments. She wasn't sure he understood all the words, but his kisses and caresses told her he understood what she meant.
Touch became their common language, and she began to wonder how she had communicated without it for so long.
When Gage undid the fastenings of her robe and let it fall away, she felt no fear or shame, only intense pleasure at being so blatantly appreciated. His mouth became more eager to explore, and she arched beneath him, barely able to stop herself from crying out for sheer joy. He undressed her lovingly and she helped him, eager to remove all barriers between them.
Feeling sublimely desirable, she pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his pants, her fingers busy on the buttons, wanting to look and touch her fill of him, too. When she saw the mottled stripe the seat belt had seared across his chest, she drew a gasp of dismay. She skimmed her fingers over the mark. "Does it hurt very much?"
"The bruise? No. This waiting? Pure agony."
He reared back long enough to strip off the shirt and toss it to one side. His remaining clothes followed, and she had her wish. Only one barrier remained.
He was not eager to cross it, taking endless time to bestow more of the delicious kisses that pushed her to the brink of endurance, on her mouth, her breasts, even those most secret places that made the color flood her cheeks even as she readied herself to receive him.
She was aware that he retrieved something from his pants pocket and heard his labored breathing as he put on the protection he had assured her he would use. In the next moment passion tore through her like fire. Her breathing sounded loud in the night air, but she didn't try to hold back. She was where she most wanted to be, and nothing else mattered. It came to her that Gage was awfully skilled at this, knowing exactly where to touch, to kiss, to arouse. She decided not to care. His skill was his gift to her, and her very inexperience was the offering she gave him in return, allowing him the pleasure of showing her how wonderful it could be between a man and a woman.
