by Abby Green
She laughed. “I hardly think so. I’ve heard of your recent success.” Belatedly she realized Rafe was glaring at the stranger who still had a muscled arm familiarly about her shoulders. “Rafe, this is Lance Grayson—newly appointed head of the Investigative Division of the Royal Security Detail of Wynborough. Recently he had the misfortune to be assigned as my sister Serena’s bodyguard.” She slipped from beneath Lance’s arm and stepped a pace away, aware of the aura of leashed aggression flowing from Rafe. “Lance, may I present the prince of Thortonburg.”
There was a silence that lasted a beat too long as the two men, so alike in height and build, assessed each other.
“My Lord Thortonburg.” Lance bowed formally.
“When will you be leaving us?” Elizabeth asked.
“This is my final week in the King’s employ,” Lance informed her.
“Was there a reason for your interruption?” Rafe’s tone was courteous, but he left no doubt that he wasn’t pleased.
“The King asked me to extend his invitation to stay here at the palace during your visit. If you wish to do so, I’ll attend to your personal security.”
“Please thank the King for me, but I’ll decline his invitation. I’ve already made arrangements at the Royal Drake Hotel.”
“Very good, sir.” Lance bowed, turned to Elizabeth and smiled. “I beg your pardon for the intrusion.”
As the door closed behind him, Elizabeth rounded on Rafe. “Why were you so rude to Lance?”
“I didn’t like how familiar he was with you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not.” It was nearly a snarl.
Taken aback, she decided it was time for a little soothing of the savage beast. Warily she said, “You’re more than welcome to stay here if you like. I’m sure my parents would be pleased.”
Rafe gave a bark of laughter that wasn’t amused. “Right. Until they caught me sneaking out of your bedroom, you mean.” He reached for her so swiftly that she didn’t have a chance to evade his arms. “I don’t intend to sleep under the same roof with you unless you’re in my bed. And I don’t intend to sleep under another roof from you for very damn long. You’re marrying me. Soon. Before I actually have to kill the next man who puts his hands on you.”
His words sent a thrill of purely primitive reaction down her spine, though she refused to admit that his attitude made her feel cherished and protected and…safe. “I didn’t say I’d marry you. As I recall, before we were interrupted, we were discussing the possibility of a marriage.”
“The eventuality of our marriage.”
“The possibility,” she reiterated.
“There’s no good reason we shouldn’t marry,” Rafe said, pulling her to him again. “Kiss me, Princess. I’ve been away from you for more than half a day, and now I’m condemned to spend the night elsewhere, too.”
“I don’t want to kiss you,” she said irritably. “All that does is confuse the issue.” But as his hands roamed down her back and over her bottom, pulling her up against him, she moaned.
“Just think what we could be doing right now if we were still in Las Vegas.” His voice was a rough growl in her ear, his breath hot against her cheek. He pushed his hips firmly against her and when she shifted her legs incrementally to give his growing erection a snug home in the warm cove of her thighs, he caught his breath in a harsh gasp. “You love to tease me, don’t you?” He bent his head and seized her earlobe in his teeth, worrying the sensitive shell with a not-entirely-gentle series of nips.
The stinging sensations, soothed as they were by his agile tongue, were a stimulating caress, and she could feel her breath growing short, her body softening as it set up an insistent throbbing in the one place that so desperately needed his touch. She squirmed against him, rubbing her aching mound against the rigid flesh pushing at her.
“We can’t do this here,” she whispered into his shoulder.
“I know, but isn’t it fun pretending for a few minutes?” His mouth slid down the side of her neck.
She shuddered, feeling her willpower draining away. How could this one man make her brain cells go on holiday every time he touched her? “Would you really try to take the baby away from me?” It was an effort to focus.
He stilled against her. Finally his broad chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. Setting her on her feet away from him, he said, “I will do anything I have to to get you to marry me, Princess. You’re never going to be on the other side of the Atlantic from me again.”
And as she stood there, bereft of his big, warm presence, dazed and trying to comprehend his words, Rafe made an impatient gesture. “Elizabeth, I want you. Not just today but for a long, long time.” He didn’t sound that thrilled by the admission. “Can you tell me you don’t want me, too?”
She hesitated, but honesty won out. “No,” she whispered.
“Then marry me.” That quickly, she was in his arms again and he was kissing her with wild, unrestrained passion, his hands roving familiarly over her body, pulling up her sweater to slide his palms around the pliant mounds of her breasts, murmuring in quiet satisfaction. When she dropped her hands to his waist and slid them around him, pulling his lower body against her so that she could feel the proof of his need for her hard and ready against her belly, he growled. Lifting his mouth so that it hovered just above hers, he dropped small, harsh kisses on her lips. “Marry me.”
“I—” She sighed. “All right.”
His big body stilled completely for a moment. Then he kissed her again, only this time there was a tenderness in it that made her heart expand with hope. “You won’t be sorry,” he promised.
The next day, they made the short flight to Thortonburg and Rafe took her to the vault at Thortonburg Castle where his family’s heirloom rings were kept. His family fortune was easily as extensive as Elizabeth’s own, and the array of rings he brought out to show her was dazzling even to a woman used to the finest of gems. When she threw up her hands helplessly and told him there were too many beautiful rings to choose from, he leaned forward and picked up a square-cut emerald surrounded by diamonds.
It was a beautiful ring and when he slipped it on her ring finger, it fit as if it had been made for her. “It’s a sign,” he said in satisfaction. “This ring belonged to my great-great-grandmother on my mother’s side. She had green eyes just like you and her husband gave her an entire set of emerald jewelry to match this.” He leaned forward and kissed her, lingering over her mouth until they were both panting. “If you’re good, I’ll give you the rest for a wedding present.”
“And just what does ‘being good’ entail?” She could hardly believe that throaty purr had come from her own throat.
He chuckled as he rose and rang the bell for the waiting servants to enter and replace the rest of the gems in the vault. “Not nearly enough while we’re each sleeping under a different roof,” he said “Not nearly enough.”
He was looking forward to seeing his parents again as much as he looked forward to his biannual dental checkups. And the woman sitting in the passenger seat on his left wasn’t going to help the situation any, he thought darkly as he drove the imported luxury car from the royal airstrip through the countryside toward the hills of Thortonburg proper, where his entire family awaited his visit.
They were having dinner with the Grand Duke and Duchess. Elizabeth had been hesitant to accept when his mother Sara had called yesterday with the invitation, and he appreciated her concern for his feelings. Still, he’d told her, it was an excellent way for her to get to know him better, a lure he knew she’d swallow like a trout.
“Tell me more about your childhood.” Elizabeth shifted in her seat, and he took his eyes off the road long enough to appreciate the way her skirt climbed up one long, slender thigh. They’d brought evening dress for tonight’s dinner, but the simple houndstooth suit with gray suede trim at the collar and cuffs was almost elegant enough to suffice.
Last night, he’d been amazingly misera
ble without her, considering that they’d only spent one whole night together in the same bed in this whole crazy relationship. And as much as he longed to have her moving under him in ecstasy and sleeping in his arms, he knew there was more to it than that. The days they’d spent together in Phoenix had gotten him accustomed to her presence, to her quiet humming as she flitted around the house, to the gentle scents of perfume—and Elizabeth—that occasionally wafted down the halls. He hadn’t particularly wanted to analyze the feeling that had swept over him when he’d presented himself at the palace for luncheon earlier today and seen her come sedately down the hall to greet him.
No, he’d much rather relive the passionate moment they’d shared when he pulled her into the deserted library for a few kisses to tide him over.
“Rafe? Where are you?”
He came back to the present with a jolt. She was eyeing him with what looked to be compassion and he realized she thought he’d been thinking of his childhood.
“My childhood? Not much to say, as I already told you. I was away at school.”
“What did you do on holiday?”
A ball of ice formed in his stomach. “I spent most of my holidays at school.”
There was a moment of silence as she digested that. But he knew she wouldn’t let it go. “Why didn’t you go home?”
Raphael! Come down from there at once. Climbing trees is for peasants. Time for your riding lesson and I’ll be most unhappy if you’re late again.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. My father and I didn’t get along very well. It seemed…simpler.”
Second place in the national geography competition. Second place? Really, Raphael, we expected more from you than this. The Thorton name is one of the oldest and finest in all Europe…
“How about your mother?”
“What about her?”
She sighed as if she were dealing with an intransigent child. “Did you get along with your mother?”
“Sure. But when there were any decisions to make, she deferred to Father’s judgment.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”
He counted. “Almost two years. They stopped to harass me briefly on a trip to California.”
“Two years! And you haven’t been to see them since?” She was truly shocked. He could feel it flowing across the car toward him like a tangible presence. “But…” she was clearly at a loss “…they’re your family.”
“Look,” he said, wishing he were anywhere else but having this conversation. “Your parents adore you. Not everyone in the world has the same good fortune. Don’t expect them to fall all over themselves with joy at the sight of me.” He couldn’t suppress the bitter laugh that escaped. “On the other hand, you and I both will probably be honored guests now that my father’s gotten what he wants. That baby is his fondest dream.”
“Don’t tell me we’re back to this arranged marriage nonsense. My father says it’s not true.” Her tone was aggressive, and for the first time a kernel of doubt worked its way into his mind. Was it possible the old goat had lied to him all these years?
But all he said was, “You’ll see what I mean.”
He turned into the high, gated entrance to the castle a few minutes later. The guard on duty greeted him by his title—his former title, he thought grimly as he made the drive through the forested grounds and out through the expanse of lawn to the circular drive that fronted the enormous old keep.
He hoped his father didn’t think this visit was made for the purpose of effecting a reconciliation, because nothing could be farther from the truth. The castle might be an outstanding example of Norman architecture, but Roland could have the moldy old ruin—and all the others—as well as the yoke of responsibility that went with them.
As they walked up the wide marble steps of the castle, memories battered at his brain. He’d come up these steps many times as a child. His father would be standing at the top, waiting, and the little boy he’d been dreaded those first words.
Fell from your horse in the polo match. Fell from your horse! If you want the King of Wynborough to consider you a suitable match for one of his daughters, you’ll have to do better than that.
The little boy in his memories nodded docilely, but behind the blank face resentment brewed.
“You look positively ferocious.” Elizabeth laid a small hand on his arm. “What on earth are you thinking?”
With an effort, he shook off the past. “Just reliving the happy scenes of my youth. Come on, let’s get this over with.”
But she didn’t move forward with him and he stopped and looked at her. “Uh-oh. You don’t think we know each other that well, but I already know exactly what you’re going to say next.”
“You do not.” But her voice was indulgent.
“What scenes from your childhood were you reliving?” He did his best imitation of a cracked feminine voice, and she laughed.
“All right. I confess. Maybe it’s just that women in general are invariably nosy? And I’m just like every other woman.”
“Not a chance.” Rafe took her hand and pulled her nearer. “Believe me, there’s no other woman on earth like you.” He raised her hand to his lips. “And I mean that in the best possible way.”
She swallowed, and the rosy blush he so loved warmed her cheeks. He hadn’t thought a simple compliment, if it even qualified as such, could unsettle her like that.
“Thank you,” she said. But as the heavy door began to swing open, she smiled at him, flashing the little dimple in her cheek he found so fetching. “Don’t think you’ve sidetracked me. We’ll get back to this conversation later.”
A butler in formal dress opened the door and Rafe noted it was the same stodgy old coot his father had employed for eons.
“Good afternoon, Trumble. How have you been?”
“Very good, my lord. Welcome home.” The old man’s face was a study in blank disapproval, a look he’d worn since the days when Rafe was a young boy trying to sneak in the kitchen door with the garden snake he’d captured. “May I take your wraps?”
Rafe stepped behind Elizabeth and removed the car coat draped over her shoulders, then handed over his leather jacket. “We have bags in the car. Could you have them taken to a guest suite, please?”
“Certainly, my lord. If you’ll follow me…?” As the man turned and started down the hallway, Rafe spoke again.
“Don’t bother showing us in, Trumble. I know the way. Family in the drawing room?”
“As you wish, sir.” The aged servant nodded stiffly, and Rafe could see his insistence on informality was a source of irritation. Some things never changed. As they moved down the hall, Rafe leaned close to Elizabeth’s ear. “Trumble’s been here since the place was built. He was born that age and he wins yearly awards for his personality and charm.”
She laughed, a soft, musical sound. “He certainly seems a bit on the…sour side.”
“Lemons are sugar in comparison, believe me.”
They continued down the hall and turned left, heading for the room where he knew the family would be gathered, having their pre-dinner drink. Routine rarely, if ever, varied in his father’s house. As they passed a large linen closet, Rafe paused and opened the door. Ha! Empty. Grabbing Elizabeth’s wrist, he dragged her behind him into the small, dark room, reaching out to flip on the single light.
She turned her face up to his and her green eyes were wide and alarmed. “What are we doing in here?”
He looked down at her and smiled. Then his gaze dropped to her lips, the luscious field of soft pink slightly parted as she waited for his response. He could see the instant the intimacy of their position dawned on her. Slipping one arm around her, he drew her close while with his other hand he covered her hard little tummy, his fingers nearly brushing the top of the warm feminine mound below as he cupped the small bulge. He slipped one hand up to the back of her neck, drawing her up on tiptoe against him while he still held his other hand over her unborn baby. “Stop thi
nking so much,” he growled as he bent to her lips. “Turn off your brain and go with your instincts.”
Then he kissed her, and just as it had every other time he touched her, the world fell away and all he could feel, all he could smell and taste and touch was her, surrounding his senses so that he could think of nothing else. But this time there was a new element of intimacy in the meeting of their mouths, a recognition that this was meant to be. It was as if each of them had realized in their one day apart just how much they needed each other.
“You have to marry me soon,” he said, and his voice was so rough and deep and hoarse that it didn’t sound like his at all.
There was a moment when her gaze flew up to meet his and he couldn’t read her thoughts. A cold arrow of fear shot through him at the idea that he’d been mistaken, that she hadn’t really agreed—
“All right.”
He might not have heard it if he hadn’t been watching her face. Jubilation expanded within him until he thought he might have to shout aloud. But instead he forced himself to release her, then gently turned her around while he brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt and she fished a tissue out of her purse for him to wipe her lipstick from his lips.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said. “The sooner we can get home to Phoenix, the better.”
It was a little like facing a firing squad, she thought, as Rafe opened the double doors. She’d met every one of the three people in the room many times before. But you weren’t pregnant and unmarried, said the little voice inside her head that still shamed her from time to time.
The Thorton family stood as she preceded Rafe into the room. Though not a one remarked on her pregnant state, she knew it was obvious in the simple wool maternity suit she’d worn, and she felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment at the slight widening of their eyes before they all hastily dragged their gazes to her face.
Training kicked in and she went from one to another, exchanging a small word with each person as Rafe followed behind her. As they approached his father, she caught a flash of deep emotion in the older man’s gaze as he looked at his eldest son. But in an instant it was gone, and, after greeting her, the Grand Duke turned to Rafe with a stern cordiality so remote he could have been addressing a peer whom he barely knew.
