by Janet Gover
‘The family resemblance is strong, don’t you think?’ Nicolas’s breath lifted the hair around her ear as he spoke.
Lauren almost blushed. Almost giggled. Then took a firm grip on herself. ‘Your great-grandfather, I believe?’
‘Yes. He had something of a reputation as a ladies’ man. Something of an ego too, if the various portraits around this place are any indication. He seems naked, or at least semi-naked, in most of them.’
‘It was a fairly common sort of thing back then.’
‘But not now?’ Nicolas turned his attention from the naked figures on the ceiling back to Lauren’s near-naked form lying next to him. She felt as if her whole body was quivering.
‘Nudes are never really out of fashion.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.
‘Do you do nudes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you ever thought of painting me like that?’
‘What … rising out of the water clutching a trident?’ She tried to make a joke of it.
‘No …’ He didn’t need to say any more. They both knew what he meant.
‘I … I didn’t think it would be appropriate for the collection.’
‘Who said it had to go to the public collection?’ He was teasing her now, leaning closer. The ever-decreasing gap between their bodies seemed to crackle with energy. ‘I think you’re afraid.’
‘No!’ Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes. ‘No. I’m not afraid.’
‘Then do it. Right now!’
Lauren pushed herself away from him, and swung into a sitting position. ‘You’re serious?’
Nicolas rose to his feet in a single graceful move. He turned and held a hand down to her. ‘Yes, I am. Are you game?’
She had no choice. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
Like her bedroom, Lauren’s studio was on the second floor. In fact, the rooms had an adjoining door. For the life of her, Lauren couldn’t remember if she had closed that door. As they climbed the staircase, she could only hope so. The last thing she wanted right now was to be in a room with Nicolas and a bed. Well, that wasn’t strictly true – but it was the last thing she needed. The walk down the corridor seemed to last forever. As she opened the door to her studio, she cast a frantic glance towards the bedroom door. It was closed. She heaved a mental sigh of relief.
Everything from her studio in the palace had been transferred to this one. The large wooden table was covered with pencils and paints. Her stool stood nearby, as did a large armchair. The unfinished official portrait was on the easel, covered with a light dust cloth waiting for her to finish. Lauren tried not to think about it. The painting was good, but not quite what she was looking for. It seemed shallow. She had captured her subject’s good looks, and his animal attraction. But that was all. There was no trace of the real man behind the beautiful face. She had not yet found the connection with her subject that she needed. As for this moment – this wasn’t the connection she had in mind, but whatever the fates had planned, she had neither the strength nor the will to fight.
Nicolas had followed her into the room and softly closed the door. He was looking at her now, with curious expression on his face. If she didn’t know better she would think it was uncertainty, or embarrassment – although she thought it unlikely that the act of taking his clothes off in front of a woman would cause the infamous playboy prince even a moment’s discomfort.
Nicolas glanced around, as if looking for something. Then he held out the paper he had rescued from the stairs. ‘Oh, you probably should look at this.’
‘What is it?’ She really wasn’t interested in the paper, and was surprised that he had brought it up, now of all moments.
‘It’s an advance copy of the story resulting from your interview yesterday. You should read it.’ He held the paper out.
‘No. I don’t want to,’ Lauren said.
‘It’s very flattering.’
‘Are you trying to change the subject?’ Lauren asked, teasing him as he had her just a few minutes ago. ‘If you’ve had a change of heart, just say so.’
Nicolas ignored her words and held up the sheet of paper. ‘Well, it’s flattering except for the photo.’
That got her attention. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I like the other ones better. With the leather and lace.’ Suddenly he was at her side. He reached out one hand to stroke her arm gently. ‘And the tattoo. It’s very sexy.’
Lauren closed her eyes for a moment. The words were as much a caress as his touch. It was what she wanted. And feared. Ignoring the tightening in her lower body, she stepped away.
‘Why don’t you get undressed? I’ll just get the right sketch pad.’
‘That’s the most unusual offer I’ve ever had.’
‘It’s not an offer.’
‘A challenge perhaps?’
She just stood there, waiting. It was all she could do.
Nicolas crossed quickly to the big armchair and sat for the time it took to remove his shoes and socks. He stood up again as he started to unbutton his shirt.
He was really going to do it!
Lauren fought down the urge to run from the room. Get a grip on yourself, she thought. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen a naked man. You drew plenty of nudes at art school. But the models had been anonymous, faces and bodies for an artist’s eye, not warm breathing flesh that a woman might want to touch. They had entered the room already undressed, merely dropping a robe to assume a pose. They hadn’t performed this disturbing striptease.
Lauren was unable to look away as Nicolas undid the buttons of his shirt one by one, exposing a glimpse of dark hair on his chest. With maddening slowness he pulled free the long shirt-tails. The crisp white linen slipped off his shoulders. As he turned to toss the shirt onto a chair, the light played across the muscles in his shoulders and back. Lauren’s fingers ached to touch that warm flesh. It would feel like suede over the firm muscles beneath. She wanted to run her fingers through the short sandy curls on his chest, to stroke the line of his jaw and press her lips to the base of his neck to feel the life and strength that pulsed through his veins.
Hurriedly she turned away, reaching for her drawing things, trying to hide her confusion in the familiar actions of her art. She sorted through her pencils and charcoal, her heart pounding. Behind, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of Nicolas removing the last of his clothes.
‘Where do you want me?’
Lauren looked frantically around – the window, her notice board, the table … anywhere except where she most wanted, and dreaded, to look. And in the end, she had to turn around.
He was breathtaking. Stripped of the veneer of civilisation, Nicolas was as nature had intended her greatest creation to be – vibrant and strong, beautiful and exhilarating. He was superbly fit, his muscles toned and firm. He carried himself with the assurance of a creature that revels in its own power and virility. Lauren felt a surge of sheer desire as her own animal instincts responded to the man in front of her.
‘Well?’
‘Ah …’ Lauren fought to get a grip on herself. ‘Over there.’ She was absurdly pleased that her voice was steady. ‘The stool.’
He moved with the easy grace of a predator. He walked to the place she had indicted, and then turned to face her, his head slightly on the side in query. Carefully keeping her eyes on his face, she gave her instructions.
‘Sit on the stool and turn slightly to your left. That’s good.’ Lauren carried her sketch pad and pencil to the armchair and lowered herself into a comfortable position. She positioned her sketch pad on her knee and looked up at her subject.
‘If you could put your left foot on the lowest rung on the chair. That’s better. Are you comfortable?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you hold that position for a while?’
‘I think so.’
‘Good.’
Lauren picked up a pencil. She glanced at Nicolas then down at the glari
ng white sheet of paper. She could have sighed with something like relief. That pose emphasised Nicolas’s long legs and firm flat stomach. His straight back and broad shoulders drew the watcher’s eyes to his strong jaw and handsome face. More importantly, the position of his leg hid from her gaze those parts of him that were causing the blood to rush to her face.
How could he be so calm? She was quivering with sexual awareness the like she had never even imagined before, but Nicolas wasn’t the slightest bit aroused. Or at least, there was no visible sign of it. Didn’t he feel the same desire that was gripping her? The thought was like a cold shower, sending Lauren’s temperature plunging as her embarrassment grew. She felt like running from the room, but that would only make matters worse.
There was one way she could salvage her dignity. She would draw him. It would be the best drawing she could possibly do although she doubted it would convince either of them that her interest in his body was purely professional.
* * *
Perched on the stool, Nicolas remained as still as he could. His years of military training had taught him to hide his feelings, to force his body to obey his will in even the most difficult circumstances. But nothing he had faced in uniform was as difficult as this. No live-fire exercise in the mud and rain had tested his strength as much as taking his clothes off in front of Lauren’s appraising eyes.
That was it, of course. She was assessing him. Judging him. The desire that had set his blood pounding as he lay on the stairs so close to Lauren had vanished the moment they had stepped into this room.
Nicolas was no fool. Nor did he possess a shred of false modesty. He knew he was attractive. More than enough women had made it clear to him – on many occasions. And he’d never been reluctant to take advantage of his attraction. He had stripped naked in the throes of desire on many occasions, without a second thought. But everything was different this time. Maybe it was because this time he really cared what Lauren might think.
Her head was bent over her work. The multi-coloured hair was tousled. She had been running her fingers through it. He had noticed her do that as she worked and doubted that she was even aware of the habit. Her legs were stretched slightly apart to balance the sketch pad. She had lovely legs. Not long, but shapely. He longed to run his fingers up the slope of her calf. He wanted to caress the skin behind her knees. It would be soft to the touch. And sensitive. The tattered grey shorts exposed an enticing length of thigh.
Lauren’s choice of attire was hardly fashionable, nor did it make any attempt to be sexy, yet Nicolas found it as alluring as anything any model had ever worn. The fabric of her cotton top was thin and soft with age. Yet it draped over her breasts like the most expensive silk. She wore no bra, and as her hand moved in her work her breasts moved under the fabric. One of the thin shoulder straps had slipped from her shoulder, leaving it bare. Nicolas wanted to run his lips along the sweet curve of her shoulder. To gently tease her ears with his teeth.
Her lips would be soft and oh so sweet. He had tasted those lips and the memory haunted him. He would be lost if he didn’t have a chance to taste them again.
Nicolas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wanted Lauren now with a hunger greater than anything he had felt before. He was thankful that his pose hid the fact from Lauren. Or was he? If he went to her now, would she return his desire? Would she step into his arms?
At that moment Lauren looked up. Her gaze met his. For an instant he saw a question there, then her eyes changed as she realised what was happening. It was happening to her too. He could sense it. Her body straightened. Her nipples were hard against the soft cloth of her top. Her lips were slightly parted.
His heart and blood sang.
* * *
Lauren could barely breathe. Her hand stopped moving across the sketch pad. Unable to hold Nicolas’s eyes any longer, she looked down at the drawing she had done. What she saw made her hand begin to shake. The sketch exuded a sexuality that was almost blinding in its depth and intensity. One glance at that drawing and her deepest desires would be clear. She heard Nicolas moving. Her subconscious registered that he was pulling on his trousers. Part of her was relieved, while another part of her wanted to tell him to stop.
Then he was beside her. Carefully he took her hand, still clutching her pencil, and drew it away from the pad. She didn’t care. The drawing didn’t matter any more. What mattered was the feel of his skin against hers as he carefully took her drawing tools away from her and placed them on the table. What mattered was his breath on her cheek, and at last, the soft brush of his lips near her ear.
‘Will you come with me, Lauren?’
She waited for her dream to be dashed. For the fears to return and images of her mother’s bruised face, a broken door and the flashing police lights to tear her away from the happiness that was almost within her reach. Tears began to fill her eyes.
Nicolas saw them and gently drew her to him.
‘Lauren, what’s wrong?’
And at that moment, for the first time, she wasn’t afraid. She let her body melt against his as she lifted her face to his kiss.
The sound of running footsteps filled the room and the door flew open with a resounding crash. Lauren flinched as Sergeant Lawry strode quickly into the room. He was followed closely by three men. They all carried guns.
‘What …’ Lauren stammered, but Lawry ignored her. He sent one man to the window. A second to the doorway that led to Lauren’s room. The third stood guard at the open doorway through which they had just come.
‘Sir. Code Alpha.’
Nicolas’s face hardened. He carefully disengaged himself from Lauren’s embrace.
‘My mother?’
‘Unknown, sir.’
Nicolas’s face paled. He picked up the rest of his clothes and swiftly began to dress.
‘Nicolas … What …’
‘Sir,’ Lawry interrupted. ‘We have to go. Now.’
‘Lauren comes too.’ Nicolas hadn’t even looked at her.
‘No,’ Lawry replied instantly.
‘No what?’ Lauren almost shouted. ‘What’s happening?’
‘She comes.’ Nicolas might not have heard her. All his attention was on his bodyguard.
Lawry nodded. He signalled to one of his men. Then he stepped to his master’s side. The prince took a step forward and Lawry closed in behind him, gun still at the ready. The guard near the door led the way, and within seconds all three had vanished.
‘Miss Phelps. Let’s go.’ The third bodyguard was by her side.
‘Go where?’ Lauren was losing control as panic and confusion overtook her.
The man didn’t answer. He grabbed her firmly by the arm. The sketchbook fell to the floor as he pushed her towards the door.
Chapter Eleven
‘Where are we going?’
The man at her side didn’t answer; he just tightened his grip on her arm.
‘At least let me get some proper clothes.’
Still no answer.
Somewhere ahead of them, Nicolas was also being hurried away by his bodyguard. Lauren didn’t know if she was being taken to the same place. If she would see him again. Fear caught her breath. Then anger. She dug her heels in and tried to wrench her arm away.
‘Look. You can’t just …’
‘Miss. It’s a security matter. There’s been an incident. Either you walk or I will carry you. Either way, we have to move. Now.’
Stunned into acquiescence, Lauren started moving again.
They hurried down the corridor then turned. Ahead, another guard waited by a doorway. He stood back to allow Lauren and her companion to pass through, then closed the door. They hurried down another corridor, turned once, twice. Then they began to descend another stair.
Lauren had lost all track of where they were in the building. They descended quickly down a stairwell that had no windows or doors. At regular intervals, armed guards stood at the landings. They did not move as Lauren hurried past. Her escort had rele
ased his hold on her arm, but he was close behind her, forcing her to keep moving swiftly. It seemed they had gone down a lot of stairs. Lauren was sure the building wasn’t that tall, and the realisation struck her that they must be underground.
The stairs ended at a short corridor. A solid-looking metal doorway was ahead of them. The soldier who guarded this door carried a machine gun. He stepped back as they approached but made no move to open the door. His eyes were firmly fixed on the bottom of the stairs, his hands holding his weapon ready.
Lauren’s guard knocked on the door. From inside came the sound of a lock being drawn back. The door opened. Lauren was almost pushed inside and the door clanged shut.
‘This way.’
Another man took charge of her. He too was a soldier. He herded Lauren down a short hallway past a number of closed doors into what at first glance appeared to be a sitting room. Comfortable-looking sofas were arranged around a coffee table. A television screen was set into one wall.
‘Please wait here, miss.’ The solder halted at the doorway.
‘What’s going on?’ Lauren spun to face him.
‘Someone will be with you shortly.’ The soldier stepped back and pulled the door closed.
Lauren was alone, scantily dressed and frightened.
She stood for a few moments, her breath coming in short hard gasps, partly from the exertion of the past few minutes but partly from shock. She stared at the closed door – the only entrance to the windowless room. Or exit from it. She felt like a prisoner, which was totally ridiculous. Or was it?
She stepped towards the door and cautiously put out a hand to grasp the handle. She started to turn it slowly, then leaped back as she felt it taken from her control. The door opened suddenly and swiftly. The soldier stood there, holding his gun with the ease of much practice as his eyes swiftly searched the room.
Who did you think was here? Lauren wanted to scream. With you and that gun on the only door, did you think someone might have sneaked into the room?
‘Miss, please wait. Someone will be with you shortly.’ The soldier backed out and closed the door firmly behind him. He seemed convinced that she wouldn’t try that again. He was right.
