Captured and Crowned

by Janette Kenny

  The wedding gown that would be her signature creation would symbolize a loveless marriage for the rest of her days. Bound to the one man who made her thrill to his touch, who made her want him even when she was furious with him!

  She moved to the window and stared out at the water glittering like diamonds. What was taking the council so long to decide?

  Demetria pressed her hands to her head and let out a frustrated groan. If she didn’t busy herself she’d surely lose her mind just waiting. She turned back to the dress form and the temptation of finishing this gorgeous gown.

  Soon she lost herself in work, and didn’t stop until Vasos returned midday with a tray bearing lunch. “Do you require anything else?”

  “No. But have you heard from the King?”

  Vasos shook his head. “He is still in session with the council and the royal lawyers.”

  That didn’t bode well for her or Kristo.

  “If you don’t need anything…?”

  “I’m fine.” Which was a lie. She was a bundle of nerves.

  With a slight bow, he left the room.

  She threw herself back into work. Whether she was deemed worthy to be the Queen or not, she had to complete the gown.

  She was creating a masterpiece with every tuck, every ruching of silk, every cut, that would make the royal bride stand out from all other nobility.

  She would be a vision to behold, the envy of all women. Nobody would know the angst roiling within her. How each stitch she’d made was bittersweet, for this gown should have symbolized her love for her husband.

  By the time dusk fell her back ached and her fingertips were sore. But, except for adding embellishments, the royal wedding gown was finished.

  She stretched her arms overhead and moaned, her body protesting at the long hours of work on the heels of the passionate interlude she’d shared with Kristo. Kristo. Eight hours had passed and still no word from him.

  She walked to the chaise and curled up, her mind plagued with worry while her body simply craved a moment’s rest. This was by far the most tedious day of her life. How much longer would she have to wait before she knew her fate?

  Kristo slipped into Demetria’s suite just as night fully settled over Angyra. She’d been in his thoughts all day, but the need to see her had intensified the second the gruelling meeting with the council ended.

  Now the fire of anger from that confrontation was doused as he stared down at Demetria’s sleeping form. Her feet were bare, the toenails painted a shocking pink.

  A gold chain encircled one slender ankle, and a small gold heart rested against skin that would be warm and smooth to his questing hands and mouth.

  The delicate ankle bracelet wasn’t an expensive piece of jewelry, yet on her it looked elegant. Classy.

  His gaze lifted to the gown artfully arranged on the dress form. The design was simple, and as yet lacked the beading she’d depicted in her sketch. But the classic shape and clean lines screamed sophistication.

  He could only imagine the breathtaking image she’d present, with the priceless crown jewels set in rare Rhoda gold lying against her light olive skin. How the large pearl pendant would rest between her full breasts, complementing the luminescent quality of the ivory silk.

  She would be absolutely stunning in her wedding attire. And positively breathtaking wearing nothing but the jewels on her wedding night.

  A rueful smile tugged at his mouth. He readily admitted the desire she stoked in him, but he was loath to own up to those other sensations that were too new to examine closely. That he simply couldn’t trust yet.

  He stared down at the woman who would soon be his Queen. His wife. The mother of his children.

  She looked small and vulnerable, yet sexy in a very earthy way. And exhausted.

  He tipped his head back and heaved a sigh. He’d come straight here to break the news to her, but he hated to disturb her sleep now. When her father made good his threat she’d have enough sleepless nights ahead of her.

  He turned to leave, though he ached to gather her close, to kiss her, thrust into her and narrow their world to just them. Just now.

  “Kristo?”

  Her voice reached out to him on a velvet echo, stroking his senses like a caress, pulling him back to her and the longings he couldn’t deny.

  He wanted to strip her bare and take her right here and now, on the narrow chaise that was ill-suited for all the desire pent up inside him. He was desperate to ease this longing that throbbed hot and heavy within him.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” he said, still thinking to be noble, to walk out and leave her to her dreams if just for a few more hours.

  “Don’t be. How was the meeting with the council?”

  “Hellish.” He turned to face her, seeing no reason to delay telling her now.

  She sat up, and one strap of her fuchsia tank top slid down her arm. The neckline drooped to reveal the smooth upper globes of breasts that were full and firm.

  He ached to reach out and tug her top down a bit more to expose her bosom. To glide his fingers over every inch of her silken skin, then let his mouth follow the same path.

  “Kristo, you’re scaring me,” she said. “What was decided?”

  That he’d acted irresponsibly. That he was as much to blame as her, for if he’d been in attendance the preceding years when she’d visited, as had been expected of him, then he and Demetria would have known each other.

  This dishonor would have been avoided.

  “As we feared, every tabloid and gossip magazine has made us front-page news.” He grimaced, for he’d had the displeasure of reading every one, all of which basically recounted the same story with a collage of snapshots of Gregor, Demetria and Kristo.

  Most were superimposed. But the average person wouldn’t know that.

  “Gregor will have heard, then,” she said. “This is awful!”

  He nodded, certain that his elder brother had seen and felt the slap of betrayal by now. That both brothers had lost respect for him when news had reached them.

  But neither Mikhael nor Gregor had rung him, and he’d been too busy haggling over the best course of action to surmount this scandal to ring them. Once they’d decided what to do, the royal lawyers had thought it prudent that they contact Gregor and advise him how to handle the reporters that were sure to haunt him.

  The confrontation with his brothers would come later, and he didn’t look forward to their censure at all. Because of his past exploits, it was the council’s worry that the people would see this as a battle of siblings over the title and a woman.

  A Greek tragedy come to life.

  But while the people might view this as a love triangle, he refused to feed that lie to save face. His pride would not let him pretend something that wasn’t, no matter that it would be the easier road to take.

  “The council, the royal lawyers and I have agreed that the best way to handle this situation is to issue a public statement. Once you and I publicly deem this matter as petty lies, we will personally tour Angyra and speak with the people directly. That is the swiftest way to regain their support.”

  “When do we make this announcement?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow morning,” he said. “I trust you will wear something demure.”

  Her cheeks turned crimson. “Of course.”

  This time brittle silence stretched between them. He sighed, aware he was handling this badly.

  He should leave. Seek his room. But all he longed for was the comfort of her embrace.

  Since he’d left her bed yesterday her exotic scent had tormented him to the point where he’d caught himself thinking of her during the meeting.

  She’d been a virgin.

  She certainly wasn’t the harlot the tabloids painted her to be. But these weren’t feudal times. He couldn’t wave a sheet from the palace window to prove her innocence.

  Yet he wanted to stand up for her, even though he was angry that she’d let him seduce her. His anger failed to hold
its sting for long, for the thought of her lying in his arms, of him sinking into her, of knowing no man had ever touched her, kept replaying in his mind.

  No woman had ever commanded so much of his thoughts. No woman had ever left him feeling so conflicted. No woman had ever sated his needs like she had.

  He held no illusions that would ever change. He was only sure of one thing.

  “I want you, Demetria. I need you now.”

  Her soft lips parted, and undeniable passion blazed in her eyes. “I want you as well.”

  “Come.”

  He extended his hand to her, his eyes on hers, his heart beating so frantically he was sure she could hear it. Her throat worked as she laid her hand in his much larger one.

  That contact of skin on skin sent an electric current through him that staggered him. He tugged her to him and groaned his pleasure as she molded against him.

  “I have waited all day for this moment,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  That admission tugged a smile from him.

  He led her into her bedroom, noting the covers were smooth. The thought of her dark luscious hair spread over rumpled sheets doubled the heavy ache in his groin.

  His mouth swooped down on hers, demanding and possessive, silencing any protest she might make. She hesitated, frozen for a guarded second like a statue captured for all time. Then, with a sweet moan that sang through his veins, she scraped her fingers through his hair and held his head tight, kissing him with the same demanding need.

  He’d known Demetria was capable of deep passion, but he’d not expected she’d exhibit such primal lust. This was the earthy sex he’d expect of a mistress, not the woman he was to marry.

  With a savage growl, he slid his thumbs under the thin straps of her top and shrugged them off her shoulders. Still it wasn’t enough, for he wanted her naked. Wanted her under him now, begging for his possession.

  He pulled from her on an oath, and tugged the cotton from her. For the longest moment he just stared at her, awed by the perfectly shaped breasts and rose-tipped nipples that were hard and begging for his touch.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, his palms sliding over her firm pert breasts, and he had the satisfaction of feeling her arch into his hands on a purr that shot a bolt of longing to his sex.

  His thumbs scraped over the hardened tips again and again.

  The hands clutching his head dropped to his shoulders, the nails digging into his flesh. Her eyes went black.

  “It is always this intense for you?” she asked.

  He shook his head for, like her, he was tumbling fast into the morass of passion.

  “Only with you,” he said.

  She swayed into him, head lifted and mouth seeking his.

  He met her halfway in a kiss that robbed them both of breath, that left no doubt that in this they were well matched, that here there was no arguing, no battle of wills.

  He’d never been one to mutter love words with a woman, but with Demetria he felt compelled to openly adore her. It was those little gasps and moans that she made that proved she held back nothing either.

  This time he was determined to savor their joining. His hands swept down the graceful arch of her spine to cup the firm globes of her bottom. She strained against him on a moan, and stroked his already engorged shaft against her belly.

  “No more waiting,” he said.

  “No more,” she repeated, between kisses that enflamed him more, that matched the need exploding in him.

  He couldn’t imagine ever tiring of her kisses, her touch.

  Her body quaked. And his did as well, for his control was about to explode.

  “You’re overdressed,” she said as she proceeded to undo the buttons on his shirt.

  As hot as he was, it was amazing his clothes hadn’t burst into flames. He suffered her ministrations for a minute. Then two.

  “For a designer, you are ill-suited at removing clothes.”

  He pulled back enough to grab his shirt and rip it off. Still it seemed to take an eternity for him to shrug off his trousers and shorts.

  Chest heaving, he lifted his gaze to hers. Dawn speared through the bank of windows, gilding the room and the shapely curves of her naked body.

  No statue in all of Greece could compare to her beauty. None could rival her allure.

  She was a goddess to be worshipped. And she was his.

  His palms memorized the delicate line of her jaw before he trailed his fingers down her neck, marveling at the silken texture of her skin, the telling rush of color that bloomed in his wake. Though she made no move, the rapid rise and fall of her chest confirmed his effect on her.

  “I have dreamed of doing this again,” he said, then bent to suckle one pert breast deeply, before doing the same to the other, leaving the buds wet and pebble-hard.

  She moaned and arched against him. “I have too.”

  “And this?” he asked, dropping to his knees as he pressed openmouthed kisses over the flat planes of her midriff and belly, certain he’d never seen skin this firm and yet so soft.

  “Yes,” she whispered, her nails digging into his back. “Yes.”

  The womanly scent of her arousal fired his blood, and he fought for control that he’d always taken for granted. His thumbs parted the thatch of dark curls at the apex of her thighs to bare her sweet essence to him. She trembled, gripping his shoulders harder, thrusting her sex closer to him.

  He needed no urging. His hands gripped her hips to steady her and he bent to kiss her intimately, deeply.

  A sound burst from her, part startled gasp, part sensual moan. It filled him with male satisfaction and left him feeling triumphant.

  His tongue showed no mercy, flicking over her womanly folds, thrusting deep into her core that was hot and slick with her own desire. The tight ache in his groin intensified to the point where he broke out in a sheen of sweat.

  He’d never felt this way about a woman before. She made him feel young. Desired. Masterful. With her, the feelings swelling within him were all magnified. Larger than life. Much more than he could grasp right now.

  Still he pleasured her ruthlessly, stroking the swollen bud until her body trembled. Her legs buckled, her fingers clawing at him now in either desperation or supplication.

  But he didn’t stop laving the tender flesh, suckling deeply, knowing she was about to shatter in his arms.

  That he could give her this much pleasure intensified his own. This went far beyond being a generous lover.

  The emotions building inside him were volcanic, unlike any he’d felt before. Being intimate with her felt right.

  He didn’t want to rush this joining. He wanted to savor every kiss, every caress.

  The pain of his need was almost unbearable for him, yet he suffered the wait until she found sweet release. Until she dug her fingers into his shoulders and climaxed.

  She came swift and hard, in a tremor that shook her from head to toe. Shaking him in the process.

  Her cry echoed in the room in a song that he’d enjoy waking to every morning and falling asleep to every night. At least in this they were compatible. A man in his position couldn’t ask for more.

  But deep down a voice mocked him, for he’d vowed not to follow in his parents’ footsteps.

  No choice, he thought. No choice but to forestall a disaster to his country. No other choice that he wanted to consider.

  He lifted his head, reality threatening to dim his pleasure. But that too drifted away on the breeze as she crumbled into his arms, sweet mouth curved in a smile and eyes languorous.

  “My God, I never knew it could be like this between a man and a woman.” She smiled on a sigh of pleasure that slid over his skin like a heated caress, leaving him trembling with renewed need.

  “This is just the beginning, agapi mou,” he said as he stretched out beside her.

  The honeyed taste of her passion lingered on his tongue, an aphrodisiac that sent his senses reeling. Thoughts of duty and revenge foamed
like the surf before washing back out to sea.

  She was the woman he wanted as his lover. Now and forever.

  “You are such a sensuous creature.” He grazed a knuckle along her jaw and down the slope of her neck, smiling as her skin pebbled and flushed at this touch.

  “You make me sensuous,” she said, on a purr that hummed through his veins.

  Her words stroked his male ego, but the simple truth that she wasn’t experienced thawed the cold that had been buried deep inside him.

  He should have realized it that day on the beach. Her hesitation. How she’d followed his lead instead of taking the initiative. How her big innocent eyes had stared up at him in wonder.

  Yet he’d turned a blind eye to the obvious. He’d relegated her to the role of a schemer. An unfaithful flirt who’d make his brother’s life hell.

  He’d been so wrong. He’d wronged her.

  “There is so much more to be enjoyed,” he said.

  A smile of pure pleasure teased her sensual mouth. She pressed a hand over his heart, the small fingers splayed over his skin to set him on fire.

  “Show me,” she said.

  “With pleasure.”

  Her hands slid over the slope of her pert breasts and he marveled that he couldn’t see the sparks that surely crackled in the air from the erotic contact. A nudge of his knees parted her legs without hesitation, yet there was a tenderness to her actions that he’d never experienced before.

  It hinted he should take his time to dazzle her with his finesse. He longed to explore every inch of her body, to leave no doubt that she was his. To make love with her all night instead of for a few stolen hours.

  His mouth claimed hers in a torrid melding of lips and the parry of tongues. The moist tip of his erection parted her slick swollen folds, the throb reverberating through him in hot urgent pulses that were nearly his undoing.

  The needy sounds coming from her left no doubt she was tired of the wait too.

  In one powerful surge he sank fully into her, only to pull out just as swiftly. She mewled a protest and arched against him, silken legs wrapped around his waist to pull him back inside her.

  He tore his mouth from hers and obliged on a guttural groan. The strain of holding a rein on his raging desire was almost too great for him.