Royal Protocol

by Dana Marton

  But, of course, he would make her wait.

  He decided to cover her neck and breasts with kisses. Since he seemed to know his way around her body better than she did, she relaxed and gave him full possession, unlimited access. She’d been half dead when she’d climbed into that tub, but now she felt fully alive, energy running through her system.

  “I like this spot.” He kissed the underside of her right breast.

  She liked what he was doing to it. As fantastic as he’d been with firearms in the tunnels, she was beginning to think that his tongue was his most formidable weapon. “Mmm.”

  “And this.” He moved to the other breast.

  Pleasure shot through her as his insistent lips found her nipple. She arched her back. Her hands went to his back to pull him up, her knees bending. She almost had him where she wanted him.

  But he just chuckled at her.

  She hated that he still had the wherewithal to laugh. The best she could do was make those pitiful, deep moans that proved her complete capitulation.

  Instead of moving his lips to hers, he moved them lower. What he did to her belly button was pure torture. Pleasure held her immobile. And then he moved even lower.

  At this point, even moaning was beyond her.

  Pressure built inside her body with each movement of his mouth combined with his soft caresses, only giving her more passionate attacks. Then it all spiraled out of control, the most amazing climax pulsating through her body, nearly lifting her off the bed.

  At which point, she finally found her voice.

  It was on about the same volume level as her best opera performances.

  Her face was already flushed with heat from pleasure and that flush only deepened. They had to have heard her all the way to the coronation room. “Oh,” was all she could sensibly say.

  He came up and was grinning at her, a smile of pure male satisfaction. “Nice,” he said, grinning some more. If his lips stretched any farther, he was in danger of his teeth falling out of his mouth.

  “Sorry.” She tried to bury her face in the pillows.

  He wouldn’t let her. “Don’t.”

  And in the next second he slipped on protection and was pushing inside, stretching her, making her arch her back in blind pleasure all over again. She was so not ready for that.

  But, as she’d done many times in her career, she rose to the occasion admirably.

  His eyes darkened. He watched her as he moved inside her, possessing her body thoroughly. She gave herself freely, moving her hips, caressing him everywhere that she could reach him.

  He shifted into a deeper thrust. “I’d like to hear you hit that high note again.”

  “You think there are a few people in the dungeons who didn’t hear me the first time?”

  He laughed. “We don’t have dungeons anymore.”

  “Then what do you keep in the basement?”

  “Wine. Remind me later to have some sent up.”

  “I don’t think I’ll remember my own name.”

  He shifted again, and the sensation stole her breath. “All you need to know is that you’re mine,” he said.

  It was the exact kind of statement that normally scared the spit out of her and would have made her run for the hills. Except, she was pinned to silk sheets at the moment. And that delicious tension was building inside her all over again.

  His mastery of her body was complete. Her bones liquefied. Every cell begged for more of him, only for him. As he kept caressing her, her mind soon became too dazed to be concerned over the complete lack of control on her part. The tide that pulled at her was too powerful to fight. So she gave herself over to the pleasure of his hands and mouth.

  She’d heard others compare the completion of love to falling over an edge. This time wasn’t like that at all for her. It was like a thousand soaring voices rising to the sky in complete harmony.

  He held her afterwards, and she let him, although she’d never been one for cuddling. Something had happened here in the prince’s silk-covered bed. Something had opened, a place deep inside her that had been locked away long ago came to light.

  She nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder and put her hand over his chest, over his thundering heart. He pulled the covers over them, although extra heat was the last thing that she needed. But after a few minutes, she felt herself deliciously melt into their warm cocoon. Just the two of them now. The outside world didn’t exist. Didn’t matter. The rain drowned out all outside noise, making the illusion perfect.

  She didn’t know if she should say something. And if so, what? Wow, seemed so trite.

  He didn’t seem to be struggling with any postcoital awkwardness. His even breathing ruffled her hair.

  Fine. If he could pretend that the world outside this room didn’t exist, then so could she.

  The exhaustion of their lost night of sleep seeped back into her bones. His embrace was so warm and comforting. She stretched fully against him and closed her eyes. Famous singer becomes lover of young prince. That was what the headlines were going to say. That was how the world was going to see it.

  To hell with the headlines. To hell with the world. For now, she was going to sleep in her prince’s arms.

  She woke to someone knocking on the door and had no idea how much time had passed.

  “Your Highness.”

  Benedek groaned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before slipping out of bed. “A moment, Morin,” he called out as he slipped into the fluffy bathrobe she’d found in the bathroom.

  He went to the door and opened it only a crack. His secretary wouldn’t be able to see in. Still, she sank low under the covers. She would have preferred if their secret remained theirs just a little longer. She wanted to soak up the glow of what had just happened between them. Maybe even entertain a few seconds of optimism that it wouldn’t all come to a bad end.

  “Your Highness, I’ve been looking everywhere.”

  “I’m hoping to get some rest. Out of the way. Any news on the rebels?”

  Her gaze fell on the silver mirror on the nightstand. It faced down, the elaborate royal crest visible. She had to be crazy to start something with a prince. But maybe all powerful men weren’t the same. Maybe her prince was different.

  “That problem seems solved, Your Highness.”

  She only half paid attention to what Morin was saying. Her body still felt sated; her mind still reeled with the implications of what had happened between them.

  “I was just talking to your fiancée,” Morin went on. “She’s the most pleasant young woman, isn’t she? Well done, Your Highness. The Queen should be pleased as well. She’s exactly the sort of young lady the Queen approves of. Excellently done.” The man couldn’t have been more effusing had he tried.

  She only registered about every other word. Her heart went cold.

  “My fiancée…”

  “Chancellor Egon told me. I assume your grandmother’s silver mirror set is to be a gift for her? If Your Highness had told me sooner, I could have had something engraved…”

  Icicles formed in her chest, causing a sharp pain. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think because every thought was a stab in her chest.

  Benedek held up a hand to stop the man. “This can wait. I’ll come and find you within the hour.”

  “Of course, Your Highness. I thought you’d want to discuss—”

  Benedek closed the door on the man and slowly turned, his gaze unreadable, his shoulders stiff all of a sudden.

  She was already wrapping the sheets around her and escaping the bed.

  “I can explain,” he said.

  “I don’t want an explanation.”

  The silver brush missed his head by an inch as it crashed into the doorframe.

  Chapter Nine

  She had fire in her silver eyes, her dark hair in a wild tumble over her shoulders, dipping below her waist. She held the sheet around her with her left hand while she searched for something else to throw with her right. S
he’d never looked more beautiful. Or more homicidal.

  She was of the stage, with a high sense of drama and emotions. He really needed to remember that.

  “I can explain,” Benedek repeated then strode toward her, swearing silently, ducking a pillow.

  She grabbed some clothes and slipped by him, into the bathroom. The key clicked in the lock before he caught up with her.

  “I don’t want an explanation. I want a car to take me to the airport.”

  He couldn’t keep her by force. Not that he didn’t want to. “Chancellor Hansen, the previous Chancellor, married Miklos off brilliantly. It restored faith in the royal family and brought people together. Hansen was murdered during a rebel attack. Chancellor Egon took his place.” God help them. “He’s…He’s still trying to cement his position.”

  Benedek stared at the closed door, wondering if she would understand. “Chancellor Egon thinks that if one marriage raised the royal family’s approval rating so much, then five more would be even better.” The man tended to think that a string of happy-smiley weddings would make people forget about everything else and solve all the country’s problems.

  “So you’re marrying for the good of the kingdom.” Her voice was full of disdain.

  “I haven’t said I’d marry anyone.” But he hadn’t said that he wouldn’t, either. The issue was complicated, considering the enormous mistake he’d made in the past.

  “Your fiancée might be disappointed to hear that.”

  “Prospective fiancée. There’s been no proposal. I don’t even know which girl is the final candidate.”

  The key turned again. The door flew open. She was fully dressed.

  He gave a brief thanks to heaven that there had been nothing in the bathroom that could be used as a lethal instrument. Her eyes flashed, her chin in the air as she walked past him. She shook his hand off her shoulder as he tried to stop her.

  “What we’ve done was a mistake. We’ll both get over it in no time, I’m sure.” Her words were measured. The walls were up full height and then some.

  She was hell bent on thinking him a villain, refusing to consider his side. But damned if he would let her go like this. He closed the distance between them in three quick strides by the time she reached the door, and put a hand above her head on that door, trapping her to make her listen. What had happened between them mattered to him. It couldn’t continue indefinitely, but neither did it deserve to be discarded at the first misunderstanding.

  “The chancellor is looking for prospective brides for the remaining princes.”

  She held his gaze, outrage still boiling in her silver eyes, her lush mouth set in a tight, disapproving line. She was a passionate woman and that passion now leaned strongly toward murder.

  Something had to be wrong with him that he was turned on all over again.

  “I knew there were candidates. I’ve even seen a couple of pictures. But last I knew nothing was decided.”

  “And you’re just going to let someone pick the woman you’re going to marry.”

  “Yes.”

  “And then you’ll magnanimously decide to love her, or is love something that doesn’t factor in to the arrangement?”

  He’d loved once and it had had disastrous results. Two days ago, he hadn’t thought he could love again. But now as he looked into Rayne’s eyes, captivated by the swirling energies between them, he said, “We barely know each other.” He kept his voice low. “You can’t expect me—”

  “I never asked for your love,” she said hotly and tried to get away from him. “I don’t even have time for an affair. I have a career.”

  Her chin was up, but he caught a note of desperation in her voice.

  “Using your career as another wall. How very original.”

  She tried to squirm away from him.

  He wouldn’t let her. “I wish I was in the position—”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend that whatever happened here matters.” Her eyes threw fire and begged at the same time.

  “It matters to me.” They had to find a way to discuss this as two civilized people. Even if he didn’t want to be civilized at all. He wanted to haul her back to bed and prove to her that what had happened between them had been true and genuine.

  Unfortunately, he was a prince and not a caveman. A circumstance he never regretted more than at this moment.

  She shoved him.

  He didn’t budge.

  He needed to tell her something that he hadn’t spoken of in years and had done his best to forget. It wasn’t a part of his life he was proud of. In fact, it had been the worst mistake he’d ever made, a mistake he’d sworn never to repeat as long as he lived.

  “I’ve been in love before. She was a staff member at the palace.” An illicit affair that started with a young randy prince and ended with a man in love a couple of years later.

  “You got rid of her, too, when she became inconvenient?” She was merciless.

  He deserved that. “I promised to marry her.”

  “Then broke that promise.”

  “I didn’t. Some Cabinet members had a talk with her. They forced her to resign and move away.” Not even his brothers knew about this.

  “That must have been a relief, others taking care of the dirty work for you. Why don’t you call a Cabinet member and have him take me back to my hotel?”

  She was pushing him too far.

  “Before I could find Anna, when she thought there was no hope, she killed herself.”

  He watched as the fight went out of Rayne little by little until she slumped against the door, her eyes going huge in her face.

  Dark emotions tore him apart. She might as well know the rest of the story.

  “She didn’t tell anyone before she left, but she was pregnant.” He paused for a long second, wrestling with his emotions about the past as well as the present. “So I’m going to follow protocol this time if it kills me. I’m not going to fall in love again with a woman I can never have. I’m not going to make promises. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  But as he looked into Rayne’s eyes, he had to wonder whether it was already too late.

  She was all unreasonable passion. He loved that about her. Among other things. Love. A single word that had him pulling back, a word that held him in place as she stepped over the threshold.

  He couldn’t afford to love her.

  He turned to pick up the phone and called a maid. “Miss Williams is on her way downstairs. Please meet her and escort her to the west entrance of the palace.” Then he ordered a limo to be waiting for her there by the time she reached the gate. She was to be taken to her hotel, then to the airport as she’d asked. Next—and this hurt more than he cared to admit—he called the royal guard and authorized her departure from the palace.

  He was going to let her go. He’d been clear about that from the beginning. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

  By the time he looked back at the door, it had closed behind her. She hadn’t said goodbye. She hadn’t forgiven him.

  He should have been relieved. Better to end things by mutual consent. If she’d tried to make their relationship more than it could be…She could have caused major complications in his life. Better to head off trouble early, before they were in love and could have gotten a lot more seriously hurt. He had to have learned at least that much from the tragedy of Anna’s death. Yes, Rayne’s leaving was the best possible outcome for everyone.

  Then why did he feel as if something new and magnificent inside him was collapsing?

  He picked up the silver mirror from the dresser. There was enough pent up tension in him to lock his jaw. He could have hurled that mirror against the wall. He didn’t. He’d never been the kind of man who’d been comforted by violence.

  Instead, he set the mirror down and dressed. When his toe caught on something, he bent to pick up the sheerest piece of feminine underwear he’d ever seen. It brought back the sharp pleasure of their lovemaking in a flash. He cr
ushed the soft cloth into his pocket, then called the Chancellor to meet him in his office in five minutes. Obviously, they needed to have that talk about the fiancée, and the sooner the better. This time, he would do the right thing, because he’d sworn he would. But damned if he was going to be railroaded into it. He needed to take that matter in hand.

  THE STEAM GATHERING INSIDE RAYNE would have been enough to iron all the gowns in her wardrobe.

  She had worked incredibly hard to build a reputation as a serious artist. As soon as news of this little affair got out, that would be over. Maids talked. Men bragged. The end.

  She had no one else but herself to blame. She’d known better. How on earth had she come to believe she could trust Benedek? She barely knew him. She was too old to be swept off her feet by some senseless rush of immediate attraction, and yet here she was.

  Damn.

  She followed the maid down hallways and stairs, barely looking at the people they passed. She felt uncomfortable, not having underwear on. She’d been in too much of a rush to get dressed and hadn’t stopped to look for it before she’d escaped Benedek. And once she was locked inside that bathroom, she wasn’t about to come out before she was fully dressed.

  But even with paying attention to nothing else but getting out of the palace as fast as possible, a group of folk dancers caught her eyes. Maybe they were supposed to have been part of the reception last night, then gotten trapped when the palace was sealed. They looked amusing and fierce with their black handlebar mustaches and loose costumes.

  They congregated in the corner of some sort of reception room as she passed through. They weren’t too friendly for a group of performers. One pointedly turned his back to her. Maybe they blamed her for being stuck in the palace. The reception had been planned in her honor, after all.

  Something nagged in the back of her mind, but the vague instinct didn’t gel into anything solid. She was tired. She was upset. She needed to get out of here. Rayne focused on that as she followed the maid.

  At a twenty-foot ancient oak door, guards stopped them.