His blue eyes speared her in the chair where she sat, and he took three steps forward before realizing he was in the presence of the King. Abruptly, he spun and bowed formally from the waist. “Your Majesty.”
He crossed to the Queen and took the hand she extended, bowing low over it and kissing it in a formal salutation. “Your Majesty.”
“Welcome, Raphael.”
Before the Queen could add anything else, Rafe stalked around to stand before Elizabeth. He held out his hand in regal demand, and when she placed hers in it, he bowed again. But he didn’t give her hand the perfunctory peck she expected. Instead, he turned it over and slowly, leisurely pressed a kiss into the center of her palm. When she felt his tongue tracing secret patterns on her flesh, she tried to jerk her hand away, but Rafe held it firmly for another moment before raising his head. “Your Royal Highness.”
“Subservience doesn’t suit you,” Elizabeth said, snatching her hand back and linking it tightly with the other in her lap, ignoring both her mother’s snort of amusement and the leap of her own pulse at his touch. “So just stop it. How on earth did you get here so fast?”
“Ever heard of private planes?” His voice was surly. Grouchy. Thoroughly out of sorts. She guessed she couldn’t blame him.
“Raphael, Elizabeth has just finished telling us of your intentions.” King Phillip stepped forward. Gone was the indulgent father, and in his place was the commanding monarch few ever saw in action.
“Good.” Rafe didn’t even appear to notice the monarch’s attitude. “Then you know that I have chased your stubborn, spoiled, opinionated daughter across the Atlantic Ocean because I intend to marry her. I shouldn’t think that would be a problem for you.”
“Of course not.” The King’s stern face softened slightly. “You are more than welcome in this family…if you can convince my ‘stubborn, spoiled, opinionated daughter’ to marry you.” He looked over Elizabeth’s head to his wife, then, offering her his arm, said, “Come, my dear. These young people have things to discuss.”
“Really, that’s not necessary,” Elizabeth began, turning around, trying to send her mother a silent message with her eyes. “Mother, you don’t have to leave.”
“I’m afraid duty calls me, as well,” the Queen said, shrugging as if she were helpless to alter the matter. She winked at Elizabeth—winked!—and took her husband’s arm as the two of them exited the room.
Seven
A heavy silence fell. She kept her eyes on her clasped hands, refusing to look at Rafe. Finally, when he didn’t speak, she could stand the suspense no longer. “You can’t make me marry you.”
“All right.”
She raised her head abruptly and stared at him. “All right?”
He shrugged, and the motion of his wide shoulders shifted the fabric of the fine leather jacket he wore. “I can’t force you to marry me. We’ll let a judge decide what kind of custody arrangements would work best.”
“You—you wouldn’t do that.” She put a hand to her throat.
“By now you should know me well enough to realize I mean exactly what I say.”
“But that’s half the problem,” she said heatedly. In her agitation she rose from the chair and gestured wildly with her hands. “I don’t know you. We’ve spent a total of only a few weeks in each other’s company in our entire lives. How can you think we could make a marriage work?”
Standing had been a mistake. Rafe stepped toward her, slipping his arms around her and gently rubbing his big hands up and down her spine. “Why couldn’t we? Lots of people make successful marriages from much less.” His embrace felt so wonderful, his arms so strong and secure, that she could feel her willpower draining away like an overused battery.
“Name some.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.
“That’s easy. My parents.”
She looked up at him. Another mistake. His hard lips and the enticing dimples grooving his cheeks were much, much too close. Hastily she put a hand against his chest, holding him away when he would have pulled her closer. “No kissing!” She could see the amusement gleaming in his eyes. Averting her gaze, she stared at the metal zipper tab where he’d left it halfway up its track on his jacket. “Was their marriage arranged?”
“Their families wanted to cement a business relationship,” Rafe said. “My grandfather ran through enough of the Thortonburg money that a marriage to a wealthy noble-woman was a necessity for my father.”
“How sad.” She couldn’t imagine having her husband picked out for her. “My father did the exact opposite. He defied his own father to marry a penniless American. Quite a scandal at the time.” She smiled. “But they never have regretted it.”
“They seem very happy.” Rafe sounded almost as if he doubted it. “But we aren’t discussing your parents. We’re talking about us. When I realized you’d slipped out of Vegas without me—”
A knock at the door interrupted whatever he had been going to say. Hastily, Elizabeth pulled herself away from his embrace and smoothed her wrinkled travel clothes. “Come in.”
“Welcome home, Your Highness.” The tall, handsome man in the uniform of royal security stopped before her and bowed over Elizabeth’s hand.
“Lance!” Ignoring protocol, Elizabeth reached up to hug the dark-haired man. “Lose any princesses lately?”
The guard bared his teeth at her, but his eyes were a warm, smoky gray. “Serena was sly, I’ll grant you that. But I will never lose anyone on my watch again. Cost me a promotion, you know.”
She laughed. “I hardly think so. I’ve heard of your recent success.” Belatedly she realized Rafe was glaring at the stranger who still had a muscled arm familiarly about her shoulders. “Rafe, this is Lance Grayson—newly appointed head of the Investigative Division of the Royal Security Detail of Wynborough. Recently he had the misfortune to be assigned as my sister Serena’s bodyguard.” She slipped from beneath Lance’s arm and stepped a pace away, aware of the aura of leashed aggression flowing from Rafe. “Lance, may I present the prince of Thortonburg.”
There was a silence that lasted a beat too long as the two men, so alike in height and build, assessed each other.
“My Lord Thortonburg.” Lance bowed formally.
“When will you be leaving us?” Elizabeth asked.
“This is my final week in the King’s employ,” Lance informed her.
“Was there a reason for your interruption?” Rafe’s tone was courteous, but he left no doubt that he wasn’t pleased.
“The King asked me to extend his invitation to stay here at the palace during your visit. If you wish to do so, I’ll attend to your personal security.”
“Please thank the King for me, but I’ll decline his invitation. I’ve already made arrangements at the Royal Drake Hotel.”
“Very good, sir.” Lance bowed, turned to Elizabeth and smiled. “I beg your pardon for the intrusion.”
As the door closed behind him, Elizabeth rounded on Rafe. “Why were you so rude to Lance?”
“I didn’t like how familiar he was with you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not.” It was nearly a snarl.
Taken aback, she decided it was time for a little soothing of the savage beast. Warily she said, “You’re more than welcome to stay here if you like. I’m sure my parents would be pleased.”
Rafe gave a bark of laughter that wasn’t amused. “Right. Until they caught me sneaking out of your bedroom, you mean.” He reached for her so swiftly that she didn’t have a chance to evade his arms. “I don’t intend to sleep under the same roof with you unless you’re in my bed. And I don’t intend to sleep under another roof from you for very damn long. You’re marrying me. Soon. Before I actually have to kill the next man who puts his hands on you.”
His words sent a thrill of purely primitive reaction down her spine, though she refused to admit that his attitude made her feel cherished and protected and…safe. “I didn’t say I’d marry you. As I recal
l, before we were interrupted, we were discussing the possibility of a marriage.”
“The eventuality of our marriage.”
“The possibility,” she reiterated.
“There’s no good reason we shouldn’t marry,” Rafe said, pulling her to him again. “Kiss me, Princess. I’ve been away from you for more than half a day, and now I’m condemned to spend the night elsewhere, too.”
“I don’t want to kiss you,” she said irritably. “All that does is confuse the issue.” But as his hands roamed down her back and over her bottom, pulling her up against him, she moaned.
“Just think what we could be doing right now if we were still in Las Vegas.” His voice was a rough growl in her ear, his breath hot against her cheek. He pushed his hips firmly against her and when she shifted her legs incrementally to give his growing erection a snug home in the warm cove of her thighs, he caught his breath in a harsh gasp. “You love to tease me, don’t you?” He bent his head and seized her earlobe in his teeth, worrying the sensitive shell with a not-entirely-gentle series of nips.
The stinging sensations, soothed as they were by his agile tongue, were a stimulating caress, and she could feel her breath growing short, her body softening as it set up an insistent throbbing in the one place that so desperately needed his touch. She squirmed against him, rubbing her aching mound against the rigid flesh pushing at her.
“We can’t do this here,” she whispered into his shoulder.
“I know, but isn’t it fun pretending for a few minutes?” His mouth slid down the side of her neck.
She shuddered, feeling her willpower draining away. How could this one man make her brain cells go on holiday every time he touched her? “Would you really try to take the baby away from me?” It was an effort to focus.
He stilled against her. Finally his broad chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. Setting her on her feet away from him, he said, “I will do anything I have to to get you to marry me, Princess. You’re never going to be on the other side of the Atlantic from me again.”
And as she stood there, bereft of his big, warm presence, dazed and trying to comprehend his words, Rafe made an impatient gesture. “Elizabeth, I want you. Not just today but for a long, long time.” He didn’t sound that thrilled by the admission. “Can you tell me you don’t want me, too?”
She hesitated, but honesty won out. “No,” she whispered.
“Then marry me.” That quickly, she was in his arms again and he was kissing her with wild, unrestrained passion, his hands roving familiarly over her body, pulling up her sweater to slide his palms around the pliant mounds of her breasts, murmuring in quiet satisfaction. When she dropped her hands to his waist and slid them around him, pulling his lower body against her so that she could feel the proof of his need for her hard and ready against her belly, he growled. Lifting his mouth so that it hovered just above hers, he dropped small, harsh kisses on her lips. “Marry me.”
“I—” She sighed. “All right.”
His big body stilled completely for a moment. Then he kissed her again, only this time there was a tenderness in it that made her heart expand with hope. “You won’t be sorry,” he promised.
The next day, they made the short flight to Thortonburg and Rafe took her to the vault at Thortonburg Castle where his family’s heirloom rings were kept. His family fortune was easily as extensive as Elizabeth’s own, and the array of rings he brought out to show her was dazzling even to a woman used to the finest of gems. When she threw up her hands helplessly and told him there were too many beautiful rings to choose from, he leaned forward and picked up a square-cut emerald surrounded by diamonds.
It was a beautiful ring and when he slipped it on her ring finger, it fit as if it had been made for her. “It’s a sign,” he said in satisfaction. “This ring belonged to my great-great-grandmother on my mother’s side. She had green eyes just like you and her husband gave her an entire set of emerald jewelry to match this.” He leaned forward and kissed her, lingering over her mouth until they were both panting. “If you’re good, I’ll give you the rest for a wedding present.”
“And just what does ‘being good’ entail?” She could hardly believe that throaty purr had come from her own throat.
He chuckled as he rose and rang the bell for the waiting servants to enter and replace the rest of the gems in the vault. “Not nearly enough while we’re each sleeping under a different roof,” he said “Not nearly enough.”
He was looking forward to seeing his parents again as much as he looked forward to his biannual dental checkups. And the woman sitting in the passenger seat on his left wasn’t going to help the situation any, he thought darkly as he drove the imported luxury car from the royal airstrip through the countryside toward the hills of Thortonburg proper, where his entire family awaited his visit.
They were having dinner with the Grand Duke and Duchess. Elizabeth had been hesitant to accept when his mother Sara had called yesterday with the invitation, and he appreciated her concern for his feelings. Still, he’d told her, it was an excellent way for her to get to know him better, a lure he knew she’d swallow like a trout.
“Tell me more about your childhood.” Elizabeth shifted in her seat, and he took his eyes off the road long enough to appreciate the way her skirt climbed up one long, slender thigh. They’d brought evening dress for tonight’s dinner, but the simple houndstooth suit with gray suede trim at the collar and cuffs was almost elegant enough to suffice.
Last night, he’d been amazingly miserable without her, considering that they’d only spent one whole night together in the same bed in this whole crazy relationship. And as much as he longed to have her moving under him in ecstasy and sleeping in his arms, he knew there was more to it than that. The days they’d spent together in Phoenix had gotten him accustomed to her presence, to her quiet humming as she flitted around the house, to the gentle scents of perfume—and Elizabeth—that occasionally wafted down the halls. He hadn’t particularly wanted to analyze the feeling that had swept over him when he’d presented himself at the palace for luncheon earlier today and seen her come sedately down the hall to greet him.
No, he’d much rather relive the passionate moment they’d shared when he pulled her into the deserted library for a few kisses to tide him over.
“Rafe? Where are you?”
He came back to the present with a jolt. She was eyeing him with what looked to be compassion and he realized she thought he’d been thinking of his childhood.
“My childhood? Not much to say, as I already told you. I was away at school.”
“What did you do on holiday?”
A ball of ice formed in his stomach. “I spent most of my holidays at school.”
There was a moment of silence as she digested that. But he knew she wouldn’t let it go. “Why didn’t you go home?”
Raphael! Come down from there at once. Climbing trees is for peasants. Time for your riding lesson and I’ll be most unhappy if you’re late again.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. My father and I didn’t get along very well. It seemed…simpler.”
Second place in the national geography competition. Second place? Really, Raphael, we expected more from you than this. The Thorton name is one of the oldest and finest in all Europe…
“How about your mother?”
“What about her?”
She sighed as if she were dealing with an intransigent child. “Did you get along with your mother?”
“Sure. But when there were any decisions to make, she deferred to Father’s judgment.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”
He counted. “Almost two years. They stopped to harass me briefly on a trip to California.”
“Two years! And you haven’t been to see them since?” She was truly shocked. He could feel it flowing across the car toward him like a tangible presence. “But…” she was clearly at a loss “…they’re your family.”
“Look,” he said, wishing h
e were anywhere else but having this conversation. “Your parents adore you. Not everyone in the world has the same good fortune. Don’t expect them to fall all over themselves with joy at the sight of me.” He couldn’t suppress the bitter laugh that escaped. “On the other hand, you and I both will probably be honored guests now that my father’s gotten what he wants. That baby is his fondest dream.”
“Don’t tell me we’re back to this arranged marriage nonsense. My father says it’s not true.” Her tone was aggressive, and for the first time a kernel of doubt worked its way into his mind. Was it possible the old goat had lied to him all these years?
But all he said was, “You’ll see what I mean.”
He turned into the high, gated entrance to the castle a few minutes later. The guard on duty greeted him by his title—his former title, he thought grimly as he made the drive through the forested grounds and out through the expanse of lawn to the circular drive that fronted the enormous old keep.
He hoped his father didn’t think this visit was made for the purpose of effecting a reconciliation, because nothing could be farther from the truth. The castle might be an outstanding example of Norman architecture, but Roland could have the moldy old ruin—and all the others—as well as the yoke of responsibility that went with them.
As they walked up the wide marble steps of the castle, memories battered at his brain. He’d come up these steps many times as a child. His father would be standing at the top, waiting, and the little boy he’d been dreaded those first words.
Fell from your horse in the polo match. Fell from your horse! If you want the King of Wynborough to consider you a suitable match for one of his daughters, you’ll have to do better than that.
The little boy in his memories nodded docilely, but behind the blank face resentment brewed.
“You look positively ferocious.” Elizabeth laid a small hand on his arm. “What on earth are you thinking?”
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