“You’re not going anywhere.” His mouth moved across the skin of her cheek. At her ear, he whispered, “Tell me.”
“I was young, stupid, naive. My junior year of university I met a man. He was so hot, so sophisticated. Totally out of my league. Yet he seemed to have eyes only for me. I should have known better, yet he flattered me, wooed me, fooled me. I thought I was in love, but he was a paparazzo intent on using me from the beginning.”
“Bastard,” he grated.
“Oh yeah. As soon as I started seeing him, he began hinting about visiting the palace. But I had a full load of courses, and maybe I sensed something was off deep down because I never took him. Thank goodness.”
Julian drew her to the bed, sat beside her at the foot. “Where do the photos come in?”
She shook her head, and unthinkingly worked her mother’s ring. “He drugged me—at a party—then took me back to my apartment, st-stripped me, and took some really ugly pictures. Some—” she drew in a steadying breath “—some of them included him doing things to me.”
“Rape?” He choked out the question.
She closed her eyes, wished she could shut out the memories as easily. “The doctor said no.”
He said nothing for several beats of her heart. She clenched her hands together in her lap waiting for his condemnation. He’d understand now why she should leave.
But he didn’t push her away; he pulled her into his arms. “Tell me he is dead.”
Bad, she was a bad, bad person, because his comment actually made her want to smile. “When I woke up, the pictures were spread all around me. I was so sick, from the drugs, from the pictures. All I could think of was to call my dad. It was mortifying.”
“And he advised Jean Claude.”
“I begged him not to. But, of course, he had to. The Prince was very kind. I couldn’t look him in the eye for months. But telling him was the smart thing to do. The extortionist didn’t expect me to confess my shame so quickly, so they were able to capture him when he made his first demands.”
“But he lives.”
“Yes.” She did smile this time. “In prison. For the rest of his life. Extorting a member of the royal family is considered treason in Pasadonia.”
“Then he should be dead.”
“So bloodthirsty,” she chided him, burying her face against his neck, because deep down she felt vindicated by his reaction. “I admit at first I wanted him dead. He violated me. Not just my body, which was bad enough, but my life, my pride, my relationships, my future. He took it all from me.”
“Not everything,” Julian denied. “You fought back. You’re a beautiful, courageous woman.”
If only she believed him. “I am glad he lives. He destroyed my life. And I put him behind bars for the rest of his. My freedom for his—it is a fair trade.”
“Katrina—” he lifted her face to stare into her eyes “—you don’t need to fear him anymore. Jean Claude got rid of the pictures and all evidence of them. Do not give this psycho any more power over you. I want you with the royal family tomorrow.”
“No.” She shook her head, her shoulders, trying to get away from him. “This is the digital age. Nothing completely disappears anymore.”
“Treason is a death sentence. If the man lives, he bargained the pictures for his life. You are safe from him. No one will ever see those photos.”
“I am not worried about me.” She stopped struggling to face him. “Do you not understand? I was the fool. I let that happen to me. If the pictures went public, I would be mortified. This is what I deserve. But it would not be me alone who suffers. The press would exploit my relationship with Jean Claude. Embarrassment to him, the Princess, my father, to you and your family is what I seek to avoid.”
Oh lord, she hoped never to see such a look of defeat on her father’s face ever again.
Julian kissed her.
He framed her face in his hands and took her mouth with his. His tongue breached the line of her lips and sank deep to tangle with hers. On a half sob she answered his demand, sinking into his arms. He felt and tasted familiar, safe.
But it was an illusion.
She pulled her mouth free. “Stop.”
Safety was always an illusion.
“This is wrong.” She struggled halfheartedly, but he rolled with her, pinning her back on the bed and pinioning both of her hands in one of his. His mouth went to the curve of her neck.
“What’s wrong is your thinking.” The breath from his words heated her skin. “You need a distraction to allow you to think clearly once again. You were a victim.” He pulled the neckline of her yellow sweater back and licked her collarbone. “You deserve none of what happened to you.”
“Julian, we cannot.” She tried to reason with him when all she really wanted was for him to continue kissing her. “You have appointments.”
“Today they wait for me.”
She arched into his touch when his hand found the skin of her stomach and roamed up to cup a lace-covered breast. He meant to steal her thoughts and he succeeded. She couldn’t think while his talented fingers worked her flesh. Could no longer remember why she wanted him to stop.
“Julian,” she cried out.
“Shh, my dove.” He levered up and over, releasing her in the process. He wiped tears from her face. “I would never hurt you.” He kissed the corner of her right eye. “I’ll stop if you truly want me to.”
She looped her arms around his neck. “Do not stop! You make me forget when I am in your arms. You make me feel again.”
“What of the boyfriend you thought me when you woke me with a kiss?”
She chewed her bottom lip, which earned her a soothing lick of his tongue. Had she once thought him cold?
“An aide to one of Jean Claude’s ministers took an interest in me last year. He was attractive and nice. I thought I might...that enough time had passed. But I never made it past a few kisses.”
He pulled back, watched her expression. “Tell me, Katrina, have I made you uncomfortable at any time?”
“No.” Touched, she traced his jaw with her fingers. A little shy, she confessed, “There is no one but you when you hold me.”
He liked that. “Then let us replace all the bad memories with good ones.” His mouth settled on hers and his fingers went beneath the hem of her sweater to the button of her skirt.
“Wait.” Her hands closed on his over the material. “Not everything. I—”
“Shh. No need to explain.” He slowly worked at ridding her of her clothes, caressing and kissing her through the sensual striptease until she was down to her silky cream camisole. He made faster work of shedding his own clothes, and soon gathered her in his arms.
He made love to her with exquisite tenderness, worshipping her body from temple to toes. The softness of his touch teased, tormented, tantalized until she withered with want. She kissed his jaw, his neck, the ball of his shoulder, everywhere she could reach. She loved the feel of him, the taste of him, the freedom to come alive in his arms.
Sensation built with the brush of skin on skin, of muscles flexing, and hips rolling. Julian whispered his intentions and followed through like the true strategist he was. She thrilled to his every move, his exquisite care, his wicked demands.
“Julian,” she cried out when he joined with her. And then rolled and put her on top, urging her to take her pleasure. She blinked, slowly grinned and wiggled to get her bearings.
“Have mercy,” he groaned and cupped her bottom to help set her rhythm. And she reached new heights of sensation.
Taking him at his word, she moved, slowly, then faster, until sweat glistened on their skin and every breath was a gasp. “More,” she demanded, biting his shoulder. “I want more.”
“Then take more.” Pulling her close he flipped them putting her under him. He reached new depths, drawing the passion tighter, the emotion higher. His kiss stole her breath, but she didn’t care, only sensation mattered, only the race for ecstasy. And then he was ther
e and taking her with him. She clung, body arched, and soared the exploding skies with him.
*
A short while later, when she’d almost caught her breath, Julian’s cell phone rang in his pants pocket across the room.
Next to her he groaned.
She laughed and trailed her fingers down his truly magnificent back. “I thought I was hearing bells ring while we were making love.” She lightly bit and then kissed his arm. “Turns out it was your phone. That is probably the tenth time it has rung.”
“I’m going to burn the thing. Do me a favor and toss it in the fireplace.”
“Right. And two seconds later your security detail would burst through the door. You know they are out there.”
He lifted onto an elbow and met her eyes from mere inches away. “I know I don’t want to leave you.”
“I am fine.” She kissed him softly. “Mission accomplished.”
“Katrina —”
“Shh.” She touched a finger to his lips. “I am fine.”
“You’ll sit with Sammy, with me, during the funeral?” he pressed.
“Yes. If you really wish me to. I will sit with you.”
How could she abandon him, or Sammy, at such a vulnerable time? Much as she wanted to protect her secrets and keep her family from further embarrassment, she couldn’t do it at the expense of an innocent child. But she would attend as Sammy’s nursemaid. She must keep her association with the two totally professional. It was the only way to protect everyone she cared for.
*
The family met for breakfast the next morning. They ate in silence as the weight of the day loomed before them. Julian looked around the table.
His father wore a new suit, fitted to his leaner frame. He had a bit of color in his face from his walks the past few days. Julian worried about his stamina, but the proud jut of his chin boded well for his endurance. His Majesty the King of Kardana was a stubborn man of pride.
GiGi sat with a stiff posture and a pale complexion. Grief shadowed her eyes but was otherwise absent from her expression. She had experienced loss many times in her long life.
“Thank you, Ms. Vicente, for agreeing to sit with Samson. It will be a long day for him.” Lowell addressed Katrina.
“It is my honor, Your Majesty.” She responded to the King, but her gaze met Julian’s briefly before she went back to pushing eggs around her plate. “I am happy to help in any way I can.”
“I also appreciate that you are joining us,” GiGi added. “I hope I may call upon you if I need assistance.”
“Of course.” Katrina laid her hand over the older woman’s. “Please let me know if you need anything.”
Grimes came in then along with Julian’s and his father’s assistants, who began running through the day’s schedule. The funeral procession would go from the palace to the cathedral two miles away where a full funeral mass would be performed for family and invited friends and dignitaries. The procession would then move on to the National Cemetery, and Prince Donal and Princess Helene would be laid to rest. Afterward, a grand reception would be hosted at the palace.
Julian watched Katrina while the day’s obligations were outlined. He’d thought much on her revelations the day before. Truthfully, it preyed on his mind. She was so giving, so courageous, she deserved better than to live in fear of an eventuality that would never occur.
Since Donal’s passing so much of what Julian dealt with daily was reactive. He hadn’t had a chance to get ahead of anything yet. And it chafed against his nature. She urged him to give it time. And so he would.
How he wished he’d met her at another time. Any other time.
The situation was just so difficult. He needed the comfort she offered, the gift of her passion, a gift beyond measure. Which tore him asunder, because being with her, no matter how brilliant it was, directly defied his father’s decree to leave her alone.
He wasn’t a rebel, never had been. But today he chose Katrina.
At the church, King Lowell escorted his mother to the front pew. Katrina followed behind, carrying Samson. Julian acted as pallbearer for Donal and then joined the family, sitting between GiGi and Samson.
A hint of apples reached him giving him a much-needed boost. Inhaling deeply he took great solace in having Katrina close by. He glanced over at her. She wore a severe sheath dress in unrelieved black. Her intent, he knew, was to downplay her appearance in the hopes of fading into the background. A corner of his mouth ticked up. Her pale skin and vibrant red hair made that impossible.
He checked on Sammy. He sat quietly with Katrina’s hand resting over his on his leg. The unity between them was a beautiful thing. Julian reached out and placed his hand over hers and Sammy’s. Immediately the peace of that unity swelled to include him.
He gave the eulogy, a task more difficult than he’d anticipated. When he regained his seat, Sammy looked at him with solemn eyes and climbed into his arms to rest his head on Julian’s shoulder. He welcomed the human contact. The boy had been remarkably well behaved. Julian credited Katrina’s presence for that.
Even as he had the thought, she reached over and patted the boy on the back. Sammy sighed and closed his eyes. Julian expected he’d soon fall asleep. To show his thanks for her support he covered her hand with his, lacing their fingers.
She frowned and tried to pull free. He held firm as he turned his attention to the Minister of Defense, who was praising Donal’s military career. Helene’s father and a friend honored her memory with a few words. And then the service ended and it was time to move to the cemetery.
When he stood, Julian retained hold of Katrina’s hand. She immediately shifted so her body hid the contact and discreetly, yet firmly, yanked her hand from his.
“Behave,” she whispered.
He turned and passed a sleeping Sammy to her. “We have nothing to hide.”
“Julian—I mean, Your Highness, please stop.”
“My dove—” he ran his hand over Sammy’s back, but he held her gaze captive “—if you call me Your Highness again, I will kiss you in front of everyone here. I don’t do pretense well. Today is not the day for me to try.”
“I prefer not to draw attention,” she reminded him, insistent in her gentle way.
“Just so. I must attend my role as pallbearer.” With a squeeze of her elbow he stepped out of the pew and took his place at the head of his brother’s casket. Soon, brother, he thought, you will be at rest. Be at peace. I will watch over Samson.
*
“My dear Katrina.” At the reception Princess Bernadette flowed up and kissed Katrina on the cheek. “You do us proud. And this little one, what a good boy you are.” She caressed Sammy’s cheek.
“Bernadette.” Katrina relaxed for the first time in a very tense day. “I did not know you were coming.”
“Of course we came. Donal and Helene were friends.” She gracefully sank into a chair against the wall and Katrina took the seat next to her.
A waiter immediately appeared with a tray of wine. Bernadette took a glass but Katrina shook her head. Sammy squirmed around in her lap and rested his head on her chest. She looked down to see his eyes closing.
“But I thought Jean Claude was scheduled to visit Canada.”
“For a presentation on health care,” Bernadette confirmed. “He delayed the trip to attend the funeral, but he speaks tomorrow. We will have to leave soon. I have only a few minutes before he comes for me. Tell me how you are doing.”
Terrible. I have fallen in love with my employer, a royal Prince and future world leader. Katrina longed to share her dilemma with her friend and mentor, but now was not the time. Plus Bernadette would encourage her to pursue her feelings when clearly Katrina could not risk the association.
“The Ettenburls have been very kind and welcoming.”
“Julian has sung your praises to Jean Claude.” Bernadette eyed Katrina over her wineglass. “He sounds quite smitten.”
“Do not tease.”
“I am
not. Believe me, dear, it is not like Julian to enthuse over much.”
Katrina’s heart rejoiced at the other woman’s words, but she remembered the need for decorum, which meant keeping her relationship with the Prince strictly professional. “He is simply grateful for my help with Sammy.”
Bernadette’s alert green gaze swept over the room. “I’m glad we are not staying long. Tragedy is a great equalizer, but too many world leaders in one place is a dangerous temptation.”
“Julian has great respect for Jean Claude. I know he will appreciate that you came.”
“Hmm. Julian.” The sparkling emerald gaze landed on her face. “You are not as indifferent as you would like me to believe.”
Indifferent? No. In trouble, oh yeah. She was in way over her head. She couldn’t breathe without thinking of the stolen moments in her bed yesterday. Sitting beside him in church and at the cemetery, smelling the yummy scent of man and soap, knowing he was hurting and being unable to touch him had been torture.
She eyed his broad-shouldered frame across the room. Expression somber, he nodded and talked, accepted condolences and moved from person to person, group to group. No one would guess how he hated this. How he yearned for it all to be over.
“You love him,” Bernadette said softly.
Katrina cringed. “Am I so easy to read?”
“Yes.” Bernadette leaned close. “It is part of your charm. I am so happy for you.”
“Nothing can come of it.” Katrina shook her head.
“He does not return your affections?”
“Yes.” Flustered, she thought first of his passion, but he had not talked of his feelings. “No. I do not know. That is not the point.”
“I would argue that is entirely the point. I know you, Katrina. This is about the pictures. You must put your fears aside. The pictures have been destroyed.”
She bowed her head. “I know.”
“But you do not believe. Do you think Jean Claude would lie to you about such a thing? That I would?”
Stolen Kiss From a Prince Page 11
