Prince of Scandal

by Annie West

  ‘I don’t recall any offer. That implies choice.’

  ‘You would rather be with your precious cows instead of here?’ His wide gesture encompassed the magical vista. ‘I give you the chance to be queen.’

  ‘By marrying you!’ She backed a step. ‘I’ll go with you to Maritz, but as for marriage …’ Luisa shook her head.

  The sharp glimmer of his stare triggered her innermost anxieties, releasing a tumble of words. ‘You can’t give me anything I truly desire!’

  Years before a man had tried to take her, not out of passion, but calculating ambition. It had left her feeling unclean. That was when she’d decided she’d never settle for anything less than love.

  ‘I want to marry a man who makes my heart race and my blood sing—’

  Strong hands closed on her upper arms and she gaped up at the starkly sculpted face suddenly so close. A passing light played over him. Far from being coolly remote, heat ignited in Raul’s eyes. His expression sent adrenalin surging.

  His head lowered and his warm breath feathered her face.

  ‘Like this, you mean?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  RAUL’S mouth claimed Luisa’s, pressing, demanding, till on a gasp her lips parted and he took possession.

  Too late he realised his mistake.

  The spark of indignation and guilt that had urged him to silence her grievances flared higher. Hotter. Brighter. He tasted her and heat shimmered, molten in his blood. He delved into her sweet, lush mouth and discovered something unexpected.

  Something unique.

  He slanted his mouth, demanding better access. Needing more. A ripple of stunned pleasure reverberated through him. He’d suspected almost from the start that there was something unique about Luisa. But this …!

  His tongue slicked across hers, laved and slid and explored and there it was again.

  An excitement, an anticipation he hadn’t felt since he was a green boy.

  Still it persisted. The feeling this was different.

  He tugged her satisfyingly close between his wide-planted legs. His other hand slid up into the thick silken mass of bright hair that had caught his eye as he’d walked into the salon this afternoon. He’d wanted to touch it ever since.

  It felt even better than it looked, soft as seduction.

  The fire dropped to his belly, kindling like a coiling Catherine wheel that jetted sparks in all directions.

  Tension screwed unbearably tight as her hand fluttered at his throat, a barely there touch that weakened his knees. When she slid both arms over his shoulders to clasp his neck a great shudder rocked him.

  How could a kiss ravage his senses?

  Trying to staunch the feeling that he spun out of control, Raul moved his lips to the corner of her mouth but she turned her head. Instead of an almost chaste caress, he found himself transfixed as her lips opened beneath his. Her body pressed close and her tongue slipped into his mouth in a move that he’d have called tentative if it hadn’t sent every blood cell in his body rushing south.

  Her kiss was slow and deliberate. Unbelievably provocative as she treated him to a devastating sensual exploration that almost blew the top off his head. Shivers of delight coursed through him.

  Once or twice she hesitated as if unsure how to proceed. But the feel of her tongue mating with his in slow, lush pleasure soon obliterated such crazy notions.

  Raul slid a hand under her long coat, over the tight curve of her bottom. His splayed fingers dragged her close, where that flicker of heat was now a blazing furnace. He tilted his pelvis and felt her welcoming feminine softness. Lust shot through him.

  He swallowed her gasp, returning her kiss with growing fervour. Every nerve was sharp and aware, as if it had been an age since he’d held a woman.

  Luisa tasted like sunshine, felt warm and soft and luscious like a summer peach.

  Heat spiked in his groin and a hard weight surged there. The audacious notion rose that here, now, they should let passion take its inevitable course. He’d never felt such an unravelling of control.

  Dimly he registered astonishment as desire blasted him. He met her kisses hungrily, her soft little whimper of pleasure driving him on even as he tried to slow down.

  Luisa, with her sweet sensuality and her delicious hesitation, piqued an appetite jaded by over-eager women.

  Brightness spilled over them, a wash of cold sanity.

  Raul blinked in the light from an overhead bridge. He raised his head but his hands were still on her, their lower bodies welded together, even as they passed a group of sightseers peering down at the Seine.

  Even now hunger gripped him.

  Hell!

  What was he doing, giving free rein to passion in public? It was unheard of! Raul kept his sex life scrupulously private after the nightmare scandal eight years ago. He’d worked tirelessly since to shore up his people’s belief in and respect for the monarchy.

  Yet he couldn’t drag his eyes from Luisa, couldn’t force himself to step away.

  Her lips were parted. Her dark eyelashes fanned, concealing her eyes. She looked wantonly inviting and the heat in his groin intensified. His hold tightened.

  Could this be the same woman he’d once thought unfeminine? She was beautiful.

  Yet more was at work here than a no-expenses-spared makeover. Even if the result surpassed his expectations.

  He met lovely women all the time. But none made him feel like this.

  The women in his life were easy company, a pleasure to look at. They satisfied his need for sex. He treated them well and they were eager to please. Simple. Uncomplicated.

  Yet with Luisa he didn’t merely respond to a pretty woman. Her fire, her determination, her strength made her unique. He felt as well as desired.

  She stirred against him and a bolt of erotic energy speared him.

  No! He imagined things. This desire was so intense because he’d allowed her to provoke anger.

  He avoided dwelling on the fact that in itself was unusual. He’d learnt years before to channel all his energies into his work. Emotion had led him to the brink of disaster. The eventual fallout of that error had destroyed his family and threatened the state. Now he knew better. He controlled his world. Never again would he be a hostage to sentiment.

  Luisa’s eyes flickered open and a jewel-bright stare skewered him. His heart thudded out of kilter as his rationalisations crumbled.

  Abruptly he released her and stepped away.

  What had she done?

  Heat blasted Luisa and she swayed, legs wobbling, as unfamiliar sensations cascaded through her.

  She couldn’t—surely she couldn’t have kissed the man who’d blackmailed her into doing his bidding?

  Surely she hadn’t … enjoyed it?

  Cool air chilled her face and crept in the open front of her jacket. Yet she burned up, her cheeks fiery. Heat seared through her stomach and down to the terrible hollow throb between her legs.

  Inwardly she cringed. So much for defiance. And for self-respect. What had happened to the reserve that had kept her impervious to the masculine sex for so long? The wariness borne of disillusionment and hurt?

  Raul had hauled her into his embrace, kissed her and her brain had shorted. She’d gone from indignation to helpless need, craving each demanding caress.

  How could she have responded to a man she surely hated?

  And to have revealed her inexperience to him! No way could her shaming enthusiasm have made up for her lack of expertise. He knew now just how naïve she was. How he must be smirking. The country bumpkin, easy to twist around his little finger. Show her a taste of what she’d never had and she’d be eating out of his hand.

  Sickening echoes of the past filled her brain. Hadn’t she learned? How could she be susceptible again? Self-disgust was bitter on her tongue.

  Reluctantly she opened her eyes.

  Instantly he moved away, his brows drawing down in a ferocious scowl as if he couldn’t believe he’d touched her.
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  Pain speared her. No doubt she didn’t measure up to his exacting royal standards. Déjà vu swamped her, recalling the scathing revelations of her long-ago suitor.

  ‘I don’t want you touching me.’ Her voice was raw, husky with distress.

  Raul loomed taller, his frown morphing in an instant to a look of cool composure.

  ‘That wasn’t the impression you gave a moment ago.’ He tugged at his shirt, straightened his jacket, and Luisa felt about an inch tall, realising she’d pulled his clothing askew.

  ‘I didn’t invite you to maul me.’ Conveniently she ignored the way she’d given herself up to his kiss. Even now she held onto the railing to stay upright. He turned her bones to water.

  In the dimming light as the boat slid away from the bridge, it looked like colour rose in his cheeks. But that had to be her imagination. His expression grew haughty and his eyes glittered.

  ‘My apologies. You can be sure I don’t make a habit of forcing my attentions where they’re not wanted.’

  Raul drew himself up like a guard on parade. Then with a flourish of one elegant hand he bowed formally. ‘I’ll leave you to your contemplation of the view.’

  He turned and strode to the wheelhouse. He looked utterly calm, as if their passion had been a figment of her imagination. As if he’d felt nothing.

  Surely not! He’d been as hungry for her as she’d been for him.

  Or had he? She bit her lip, all too aware she had next to no experience to draw upon and that her judgement of men was flawed. Years ago she’d been dumbfounded when her ardent suitor finally revealed his true self when thwarted. His disdainful dismissal of her attractiveness and lack of sophistication was still vivid.

  The possibility that Raul too had feigned desire made her want to sink through the deck.

  Why should he do it?

  The answer came too readily. To reduce her to starry-eyed compliance.

  Luisa sagged against the railing.

  It had worked. When he kissed her all her doubts and anger fled. She was putty in his hands. His kisses had been white-hot lightning, blowing her mind and leaving her body humming with a desperate craving.

  She stared at his tall form as he disappeared into the darkness. Vivid as her recall was of that near seduction years ago, Luisa couldn’t remember kisses as devastating as this. Was her memory faulty? Or had years focused on work and family, shying from any tentative male interest, made her more susceptible?

  The trembling in her knees grew to a quaking that shook her whole body.

  Her impossible position had just become impossibly complicated.

  Raul thrust aside a surge of regret as Luisa emerged from her suite. It was unfortunate he’d had to force her hand. Her vulnerability and her desperate pride struck a chord with him. And her passion—

  No! Last night was over. A passing weakness.

  He was in control now. Impossible that his feelings were engaged by the woman at the top of the staircase. He didn’t do feelings. Not any more. One disastrous mistake had cured him.

  Though in her chic honey-gold trouser suit and black silk shirt, Luisa was eye-catching. The suit skimmed ripe curves he’d held just hours ago. His fingers flexed at the memories, still vivid after a night of no rest.

  She cast a flickering half glance in his direction and chewed on her glossy lower lip.

  A ripple of something urgent disturbed his inner calm.

  Stoically he ignored it, focusing an appraising eye on how she descended the grand staircase. She gripped the banister tight, clearly unsure of herself in high heels.

  As he’d suspected. She’d need help when they arrived in Maritz in a few hours. He didn’t want her falling down the steps from the plane and breaking her neck.

  His gaze lingered on the long line of her throat. She had a natural elegance her farm clothes had camouflaged. His hands tingled as he recalled the feel of her soft skin, the temptation of her lips, the way her eyes flashed when she challenged him.

  Her gaze snared his and his pulse slowed to a weighted thud.

  Raul frowned. It was one thing to feel desire with a warm woman pressed intimately against him in the night. Quite another to experience it here, with his butler waiting to usher them on their way to the airport.

  Worse, this felt more complex than lust. In a couple of short days she’d somehow got into his head.

  Instantly he rejected the idea. It was simple desire he experienced.

  ‘Luisa. I hope you slept well.’

  He walked forward as she reached the bottom step. She stumbled and his hand shot out to steady her, but she jerked her arm away, hurrying past him, heels clicking on inlaid marble.

  Raul drew a sharp breath. After a lifetime fending off eager women he discovered he didn’t like this alternative.

  He recalled how she’d clung so needily last night and assured himself her response was contrived. Women were devious. Was it any wonder he kept relationships simple?

  What sort of relationship would he have with his wife?

  ‘Yes, thank you. I slept well enough.’

  Liar! Despite the make-up accentuating the smoky blue of her eyes, Raul saw signs of fatigue.

  ‘And you?’ To his surprise challenge sizzled in her gaze, as if she knew he’d spent most of the night wakeful, reliving those few moments when she’d melted into him like a born seductress.

  Even now he wasn’t sure about her. There’d been more than a hint of the innocent about her last night.

  But then feigned innocence could be such an effective weapon. As he knew to his cost. A spike of chill air stabbed the back of his neck.

  ‘I always sleep well in Paris.’ He offered his arm again, this time holding her gaze till she complied.

  He covered her hand with his, securing it possessively. The sooner she grew accustomed to him the better. ‘And now, if you’re ready, our plane is waiting.’

  He felt the shiver race through her. Saw her eyes widen in what looked like anxiety.

  There was nothing to fear. Most women would sell their soul to be in her place, offered wealth, prestige and marriage to a man the press insisted on labelling one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. But already he began to see Luisa wasn’t most women.

  He heard himself saying, ‘I’ll look after you, Luisa. There’s no need to be anxious.’

  It was on the way to the airport that Raul discovered the cost of his unguarded actions last night. The discreet buzz of his mobile phone and a short conversation with Lukas, already waiting for them at the airport, had him excusing himself and opening his laptop.

  Not that Luisa noticed. She was busy pressing her nose to the glass as they drove through Paris.

  He focused on his computer, scrolling through page after page of newspaper reports. The sort of reports he habitually ignored: ‘PRINCE’S SECRET LOVER.’ ‘RAUL’S PARISIAN INTERLUDE.’ ‘SIZZLING SEDUCTION ON THE SEINE.’

  There wasn’t much to the articles apart from speculation as to his new lover’s identity. Yet acid curdled his stomach and clammy heat rose as he flicked from one photo of last night’s kiss to another.

  He frowned, perplexed by his reaction.

  It wasn’t the first time the paparazzi had snapped photos of him with a woman. He was a favourite subject. Typically the press was more interested in his mistresses than his modernisation plans or regional disarmament talks. Usually he shrugged off their reports.

  But this time …

  Understanding dawned on a wave of nausea.

  This time the photographer had unwittingly caught him in a moment of rare vulnerability. The press couldn’t know, but Raul had been careening out of control, swept away by dangerously unfamiliar forces. Prey to a compulsion he hadn’t experienced in years.

  Eight years in fact.

  Since the feeding frenzy of press speculation about a royal love triangle. The memory sickened him.

  Since he’d learned to distrust female protestations of love and displays of innocence. Since
he’d rebuilt his shattered world with determination, pride and a complete absence of emotion that made a man vulnerable.

  His gut cramped as he remembered facing the press, made rabid by the scent of blood—his blood. The effort of appearing unmoved in the face of the ultimate betrayal. Of how he’d had to claw back his self-respect after making the worst mistake of his life. How day after day he’d had to appear strong. Till finally the façade had become reality and he’d learned to live without emotional ties. Except for his love of Maritz.

  He shut the laptop with a snap.

  The cases weren’t the same. Then he’d been naïve enough to believe in romance. He’d hurt with the intensity of youthful emotions. Now, at thirty, Raul was in control of his world. What he’d felt last night had been lust, more intense than usual perhaps, but simple enough.

  Besides, public interest in Luisa could be used to advantage. It wouldn’t hurt to hint that there was more to his approaching nuptials than fulfilment of a legal contract. People liked to believe in fairy tales and it would ease the way for her.

  A lost princess, a romantic interlude in Paris, an early wedding. It was the sort of PR that would focus interest on the monarchy and dampen the enthusiasm for political rabble-rousing in the lead up to his coronation.

  He’d planned a quiet arrival in Maritz to give Luisa time to acclimatise. Yet in the circumstances revealing her identity had definite benefits.

  He’d arrange it with Lukas at the airport.

  ‘You can unfasten your seat belt, ma’am.’ The hostess smiled at Luisa on her way to open the plane door.

  Foreboding lurched in the pit of Luisa’s stomach.

  The idea of stepping out of the aircraft and into the country that had once been her mother’s, and her detested grandfather’s, terrified her. Some atavistic foreknowledge warned that this next step would be irrevocable.

  Again she experienced that sense of the world telescoping in around her, shrinking to a dark tunnel where her future lay immutable before her.

  Desperately she sought for something positive to hang onto. The determination to get legal advice on that marriage contract as soon as she could. To find an escape clause that would allow Raul to inherit the throne he coveted without marrying her.