The Prince Who Charmed Her

by Fiona McArthur

  So that was that. The degree of disappointment seemed out of proportion to what he’d expected. The wall between them was too great for them to part amicably but his expectations had been optimistic. At least he knew where he stood. It was time to move on. To duty.

  She stood again. ‘Goodbye, Stefano.’

  But as she passed him his hand reached out of its own volition and captured her wrist. Her skin was soft and supple and so fragile. She froze and lifted her eyes to him. Limpid pools. He’d forgotten how her emotions changed their colour from brilliant blue to dark violet when she was aroused. Or angry. Which was it?

  His thumb stroked the pulse on the underside of her wrist. ‘Dine with me. Tonight.’

  ‘No.’ She tugged in slow motion, as if already unsure if she wanted release or not.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ He stared into deepening violet and between them the fire flickered and stirred and the wraith encircled them both.

  ‘I’m working.’ Almost a whisper.

  He stroked her wrist again. ‘Then it must be tonight.’

  Huskily, With another brush of her tongue over her lips, she said ‘What part of no don’t you understand?’

  But for Kiki it was too late. Too, too late. He’d touched her.

  His hand held her wrist, his skin was on hers, and the two receptors were communicating, entwining in their own matrix of reality. The warmth crept up her body, wrapped around her in tendrils of mist, and in slow motion he drew her forward. Subconsciously she swayed like a reed towards him.

  His other hand came up and tenderly brushed the hair out of her eyes. ‘You have grown even more beautiful.’

  With worship his fingers slid across her cheek and along her jaw as his mouth came down, and she could do nothing but turn her face into his palm and then upwards. To wait.

  As he had with their first kiss he took her breath, inhaled her soul as she did his, and the sometimes comical, sometimes cruel world disappeared.

  Her hands crept up around his neck and his hands slid down, until he cupped her buttocks and pulled her in hard against him. With the taste of his lips on hers, she could feel all of him, rock-solid against her, familiar, and then his mouth recaptured hers in the way only Stefano’s could.

  She moaned against his lips, her mind blank in the thick sensuality only he could create. She forgot all her intentions, all her reservations, and when he lifted her shirt, swept it over her head, sighed at her lace-covered breasts, she gazed up in a sensual mist of buried memories at the man she’d dreamt about last night.

  He carried her across the room and she hooked her legs around his hips. Her mouth was on his, starving for the fuel of life she’d missed, as they went up the stairs to the loft bedroom in a haze of heat and hunger and primitive surrender.

  The fog parted briefly as he lay her down, stripped off his own shirt. She could see the muscled perfection of his chest, the fine sprinkling of dark hairs and the nipples erect with his desire. Quickly he protected them both. And before her brain could function sensibly he was beside her, stroking, murmuring his delight, kissing her mouth as if he would never stop, and she was lost again despite the insistent whisper that warned she would taste remorse later.

  She felt a long ridge of unfamiliar scarring on his thigh, a myriad of smaller ones, and her hand stilled. But he swept her up again before she could investigate further and the moment was lost in the maelstrom.

  Stefano felt the swell in his chest, the furnace of desire for this slip of a woman who, until he touched her, could hold her own. Then she was his. He sensed it. Tasted the victory he hadn’t known he burned for until it was upon him.

  Clothes had fallen away, skin melted into skin, and heat seared between them as they reacquainted, shifted, joined. Together they cried out, until the sound died in the little death and she lay beneath him, limp and spent in his arms.

  Then he moved again, slowly, savouring every tiny moment, every gentle trail across pearl-coloured skin, every cupping of mounds and exploration of hollows. And always he returned to her mouth, her honeyed mouth that he could never have enough of, until the beat grew faster, the hunger more desperate, the climax more shattering, and again they collapsed.

  Replete for now, in awe, still confused by the speed and urgency that had carried them both, he lay back with his arm under her, hugged her close, smiling and sated.

  For the moment.

  Until the drop of a tear landed on his bicep.

  ‘You are crying?’ Stefano felt the dagger of shame and turned to see her face. Kiss her hand. ‘I have hurt you. God, no. I am a beast.’

  Kiki was in shock. She’d done it again. One touch and she’d lost all will. How could that be? She was no young and foolish teenager, swept off her feet by a handsome man. She knew what he could do. Had wept buckets at his hands before. If she didn’t get out now she would lose what shreds of self-respect she could gather from the clothes strewn around the floor.

  ‘I have lint in my eye. It’s okay.’ She eased out from under his hand and inched to the edge of the bed.

  He sat up, the sheet falling from his chest, his hand out. ‘Let me help you.’

  ‘No.’ It was sharp and panicked, and she tried again in a calmer voice. ‘No. Thank you. One moment.’

  A plan. She had no plan except to escape. Not to let him touch her again. Her feet touched the floor and she scooped up her underwear on her way down to the bathroom, padding down the stairs in bare feet to where her shirt lay at the bottom of the steps like an abandoned child. She scooped it up. Hopped on one leg as she slipped on her panties.

  God. What had she done? How had it happened? At least he had used protection—but then they had done that last time. She would get a morning-after pill. Make sure.

  All stupid thoughts when really she should be worried about escape and remaining undetected by a ship full of people who knew her. She opened and closed the bathroom door noisily, yet didn’t go in. Instead she hurriedly pulled on her bra and her shirt and slipped out through the door as soon as she was dressed.

  Outside she pulled on her sandals and smoothed her clothes. To top everything off if somebody saw her leave the suite of a passenger her job would go. And she was due at work in an hour.

  On the crew level she passed Miko, her friend from her first early days on the ship, when she’d been more than a little lost. He was another of her brother’s confidants, and the restaurant manager on the Sea Goddess.

  She ran her fingers through her hair. Nooooo, she must look a sight. Miko raised his eyebrows, smiled sardonically, and walked on without saying a word. Did she look like a woman who had just left a man’s bed? Kiki hurried to her cabin in the crew’s quarters and as she went she groaned.

  * * *

  Stefano groaned too.

  She’d gone. He knew it. And now, instead of finding resolution, they were in deeper trouble than before. What the hell had happened? He pushed the heel of his hand back into his forehead. Idiot!

  It had been like this the first time he saw her. She’d arrived breathless, like a beautiful, vibrantly exotic bird, grabbing his attention so that he’d barely been able to concentrate on surgical technique. Her fierce intelligence had shone joyfully out of the most beautiful eyes in the operating theatre, like the Mediterranean Sea at sunrise, and he’d been lost.

  His time with Kiki in Australia had blurred into a golden haze of laughter and loving and lust, and even his responsibility to Aspelicus had faded for a brief while.

  When duty had called he’d fully intended going back to reassess it all properly—discover where it led. He had thought it would be a matter of days before his return, but first there had been the accident, then the months of rehabilitation, when the chance of losing the use of his leg had hung in the balance. It had all kept him away. As if the gods had intended they should both suffer for too
perfect a match.

  By then she’d disappeared. And more crises had arrived. Slowly his mind had been torn from her as well—except for that tiny halo in his heart.

  But it was bad that he had hurt her. Profoundly. He could see that now, and deeply he regretted it. The trouble was that it seemed if he had an opportunity to hold her again he had no choice but to take it. Hold her. Lose himself. This had to stop. This was not healthy. Not wholesome. Because the way he felt at this moment he would destroy them both before he could stop the way he wanted her.

  * * *

  The next morning, as the ship moored at Civitavecchia for Rome, the clinic was quiet.

  ‘You okay?’ Will looked at Kiki with concern.

  She forced a smile. ‘I must have eaten something that disagreed with me.’

  Like a morning-after pill that sat on her stomach like a rock. She couldn’t rid her mind of the distant warning that this had been the only chance she’d had to carry Stefano’s child again. She hated that thought.

  ‘Take the day off sick. I’ve got nothing planned. We’ll manage.’

  ‘No. I’ll be better with something in my stomach, perhaps. It’s fine. I’ll stay.’

  ‘Why?’ Will gently propelled her out into the empty waiting room and towards the door. ‘Go. Lie down. Read a book. You’re allowed five sick days a year and you haven’t had one.’

  She didn’t want to go back to her cabin to beat herself up. To go over in her mind relentlessly how she’d allowed herself to be seduced, had reciprocated in the seduction. It was an even tougher pill to swallow.

  But she did feel miserable—and not just mentally.

  ‘Okay. But I’ll swap a day. I’ll do one for you next week.’ She looked at Will’s concerned face and felt bad, but relieved. ‘Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you want me to get them to send up some food?’

  ‘You’re a sweetie.’ She offered a wan smile. ‘No. I’ll wander. See if anything looks appealing.’

  At least she needn’t worry about running into Stefano in the public dining rooms. Far too plebeian for a prince. Though, to give him his due, he just avoided public places himself—he had no grudge against them.

  Stefano had never played on his royal privileges or his power with her.

  Except yesterday, when he’d thought she was sleeping with Will.

  That had shocked her. There had been real possessiveness in that threat, and she didn’t understand why.

  If he’d wanted her, truly wanted her, then surely he would have moved heaven and earth to get back to her. How hard was it to pick up a phone? E-mail? Even a stamped addressed envelope would have been nice.

  That was the crux of everything. She hadn’t meant enough for him to follow through and say he wasn’t coming back. Though, looking at what had happened between them yesterday, maybe he’d just expected to drop in every couple of months or so and be back in her bed.

  She groaned and climbed the stairs to her room. As expected, when she got there it closed in around her.

  Nope. She couldn’t stay here.

  Swiftly she shed her white uniform and stood in front of her small wardrobe. Brightly printed sundresses made her want to shade her eyes, and she winced her way along the rack until she came to black. Perfect. It suited her mood. Suited her intentions if the absolute worst happened and she came across him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  STEFANO HAD LEARNED from last time. When he telephoned the hospital, as expected, the nurse answered.

  ‘No, Dr Fender is not working today. In fact she has just left to get something to eat.’

  She thought perhaps in the main dining area.

  Stefano had not been through the main entertainment and restaurant areas. Apart from an early-morning swim in the lap pool just before Marla’s unfortunate medical crisis, he’d avoided the other passengers. A discreet perusal of the common areas would not hurt him.

  * * *

  Kiki looked at the array of food, grimaced, and chose a banana. She knew they were good for hangovers and, while she hadn’t had any alcohol, the Stefano hangover left her all kinds of miserable. Her belly rolled and she glanced at her watch. Not time yet for her next anti-emetic. That was the problem with morning-after pills. The nausea that accompanied them was pervasive.

  As she wandered back out to the pool area a redheaded pre-teenage boy scooted past, almost knocked her down, slowed, and called sorry over his shoulder. He spied his brother, obviously a twin because they looked so similar, closing in, and put on speed again.

  To have that much energy... ‘Hey, slow down,’ Kiki called after him.

  Just then his brother slid into sight, didn’t make the corner, lost purchase as he rounded a post at speed, and before Kiki could tell him to slow down it was too late!

  The second boy’s feet flew from under him and, unable to save himself, he slammed his head of red hair into the steel pole.

  Kiki stood, stunned, then her mind clicked into gear. She took two quick strides and fell to her knees to bend over him, but the boy had clearly been unconscious before he hit the ground.

  Kiki hailed a passing waiter who’d missed the action and sent him off speedily to summon further medical aid. Apart from him there were very few people near her.

  Until the last passenger she wanted to see appeared and strode over.

  For the boy’s sake she was glad. For herself less so. She ignored the surge of nausea as Stefano approached, and forestalled any comment other than on the present. ‘Did you see him hit?’

  Stefano nodded. ‘If he has not fractured his skull he is very lucky. I will take the neck as we roll.’

  Stefano placed his hands either side in case of spinal injury, and together they turned him carefully onto his side to keep his airway clear.

  Just then his brother reappeared around Stefano’s shoulder, his freckled face screwed up with fright. ‘Is he okay?’

  Kiki recognised him with relief. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Mikey.’

  ‘And your brother’s name, Mikey? And the number of the cabin your family’s in?’

  The terrified boy stuttered out that his name was Chris, and the number, and Kiki repeated it to make sure she had it right.

  ‘Okay. Go get your parents. I’m a doctor. Your brother hit his head and knocked himself out. We’ll take him down to the ship’s hospital as soon as the stretcher gets here and we’ll meet you down there with them.’ The frightened boy nodded and sped off. ‘Slowly!’ Kiki cautioned him, and she saw him reduce his pace to a jog.

  Stefano’s mind rolled back the years to a moment he’d never forget. A time when he too had been terrified at his brother’s lack of response. The feeling of being powerless to prevent an accident, to prevent disaster. His father’s constant reminder that he had been the responsible one weighed heavily even now. It was no wonder he needed to feel in control as a man. But he could feel that control slip away now, as this boy sank deeper into unconsciousness.

  Kiki must have seen the sadness in his eyes, because she paled and he recognised the moment when she too felt the presence of impending disaster.

  ‘You think he’s critical?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Theros was like that as a boy. Always rushing.’

  She frowned, missing the context—for which he was glad. No doubt she was impatient with his latex-loving sibling right now.

  She shook her head and concentrated on the boy. ‘I heard the impact. Horrible. Wilhelm should be here with a stretcher ASAP, but he’ll need to be shipped out.’

  ‘I agree.’ Stefano lifted the boy’s eyelids one at a time to see his pupils and frowned. ‘If we are that lucky.’

  Will and Ginger arrived and Stefano helped them ease on a spinal collar and slide the boy onto the stretc
her on a spine board. Within minutes they were all crammed in the lift on their way to the hospital, and Stefano could feel his own heart-rate increase as he watched tiny ominous changes in the boy. A flicker of a tremor in one finger. The shudder of an indrawn laboured breath. Nobody spoke as the doors shut and they all watched their patient.

  He saw Hobson look at Kiki. ‘He’ll need to be shipped out immediately.’

  Stefano checked the pupils again. ‘There may not be time. Already one pupil is dilating.’

  Will shuddered. ‘So fast?’

  ‘It happens.’ He glanced up at him. ‘Do you have the equipment for burr holes here?’

  ‘Craniotomy? I guess so.’ Will looked at Ginger, who nodded. ‘But I’ve never done it. Cranial surgery’s not a common thing on cruise liners. We should chopper him out from the wharf. Faster than an ambulance.’

  Stefano shook his head. ‘The preferred option is retrieval, but I do not like the look of this. It should be considered just in case.’ They all knew even that took time.

  ‘Kiki says you’re a surgeon. If it’s burr holes will you stay? Supervise?’ Will asked.

  Stefano nodded. He could not leave and never know.

  ‘Of course.’ Then he saw the limbs on one side of the boy begin to tremble, faintly at first, and then with greater intensity as he began to convulse. Stefano helped Hobson hold him desperately to keep his cervical spine stable until the seizure ended.

  Chris’s breathing slowed, stuttered, and the boy’s condition deteriorated further even in the short time it took to descend to the hospital. Stefano’s heart sank. To them all Chris’s prognosis had begun to look horrifyingly bleak.

  Kiki fought back the horrible feeling they would be too late and helped Ginger steer the trolley from the lift as soon as the fit ceased. That was when she realised the boy’s parents had arrived before them.

  Stefano hadn’t seen them. ‘The fits will get worse as the pressure builds.’

  ‘What will get worse?’

  A bluff redheaded man hurried across to them with his worried wife and Mikey in tow. Kiki gently guided them aside as the others pushed through to the hospital.