No way. They’d had one really good night together, and they would leave it at that, just as they had planned.
“There’s really no need to worry,” she told Hannah, then she gave both her and Frederick a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later tonight, at the ball.”
“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Hannah called after her.
So did she. She could not risk doing the one thing she swore she wouldn’t.
Fall in love with him.
Alex watched Sophie from across the Royal Inn ballroom. She was dressed in a clingy, shimmering, floor-length gown suspended by two micro-thin spaghetti straps, and her hair was done up in a complicated-looking twist that showcased her long, graceful throat and narrow, deeply tanned shoulders. She glided from person to person, moving as eloquently as the orchestra that played in the background.
She managed to look elegant and refined, and sexy as hell at the same time.
Apparently she had been just what he needed, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so soundly, when he hadn’t woken with a dark cloud hanging over his head, a feeling of impending dread in his chest. He felt…at peace.
What he should have been feeling was some sort of satisfaction or triumph. He’d come here intending to seduce Sophie and he had. And even better, she had come to him. All he had to do now was leave her. And he knew he had her heart. He could see it in her eyes last night that she still loved him.
But there was a major kink in his plans. Now that he’d gotten to know her again, it was clear that she wasn’t the woman he’d expected her to be. And the genius of his revenge plot now seemed petty and juvenile.
They had shared a car with Phillip and Hannah to the hotel, and Sophie did a damned fine job of pretending she and Alex hadn’t spent the previous night in bed together. She was polite and as friendly as one might be with a colleague or business associate.
When they arrived at the Royal Inn, where the charity was being held, it was instantly clear to him the burden that the royal title could be for every member of the family. They were accosted by the press the instant they stepped from the car, then once inside, a flood of staff and guests monopolized them for what was going on two hours now.
Alex was content to sit at the bar and watch her. Every so often he would catch her eye and something would pass between them. A hungry look or a shared, secret smile, and he would know exactly what she was thinking. He couldn’t escape the feeling that she was keeping her distance on purpose though.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Alex turned to find a very attractive brunette sitting on the stool beside his. She wore a painted on, siren-red dress with a plunging neckline that she filled to capacity.
“Alexander Rutledge,” he said, offering his hand.
“Madeline Grenaugh.” Her handshake was soft and suggestive, and when she let go, she grazed his palm with nails that looked like blood-red claws. “You’re an American.”
“Guilty.”
“East coast?” she asked.
“New York. You’re good.”
“Mr. Rutledge, you have no idea.” She flashed him an overtly sensual smile. Man was she laying it on thick. Why not just drop a room key in front of him, or MapQuest directions to her house?
“What brings you to our fair country?” she asked.
“I’m a guest of the royal family, actually. I went to college with King Phillip.”
“Then we have something in common. My family has been close friends with the royal family for years.”
“Alex, there you are!”
He turned to see Sophie gliding toward him, her dress shimmering in the light of the chandeliers. The warm glow playing off all of those dips and curves he found so enticing.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been much of a hostess,” Sophie apologized, then glanced toward Madeline and with a polite smile said, “Oh, hello, Madeline, I didn’t see you sitting there.”
Alex had the feeling that Madeline was precisely the reason Sophie had taken the time to walk all the way across the room.
Madeline bowed her head and said, “Hello, Sophie.”
She didn’t address her by her title, which Alex suspected was an intentional slight. The tension they were giving off practically knocked him over.
“I see you’ve met our guest,” Sophie said, laying a hand on Alex’s arm. It was a territorial move. Her way of saying, Back off, he’s mine, which was pretty funny coming from a woman who had made it very clear, on more than one occasion, that he wasn’t hers.
“I have,” Madeline said, reaching out to touch the hand he’d been resting on the bar, shooting him one of those inviting smiles. “We’re finding that we have a lot in common. And I believe that he was just about to ask me to dance.”
He was? And give her a chance to sink her claws in? Not in this lifetime. Sexy or not, the last thing he needed in his life was another manipulative female. Even if it was only for a five-minute twirl on the dance floor.
“I’m sorry, Madeline,” he said, pulling his hand from under hers. “But I promised Princess Sophie the first dance.” He rose from the bar stool. “It was nice to meet you, though.”
If looks could kill. Her smile went from sizzling to arctic cold in the span of a heartbeat.
He offered Sophie his arm, and she slipped hers through it. Then she nodded and smiled to Madeline, twisting the knife. And obviously relishing it.
“You seemed to enjoy that,” Alex said as he led her to the dance floor.
She put on her innocent face. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t give me that. You looked as though you wanted to scratch each other’s eyes out.”
She cracked a smile. “Maybe I enjoyed it a little.”
“You don’t like her?”
“She’s a vampire. And she’s had her heart set on the crown since we were children. She went after Phillip with a vengeance. When she realized that wasn’t going to happen, she slept and manipulated her way through all of upper society. No intelligent man will go near her. She must have seen you and smelled fresh blood.”
They stepped onto the dance floor, weaving through a throng of other formally dressed guests to an unoccupied spot in the center. He pulled her into his arms, and although he had expected her to put up at least a little resistance, she came willingly. A perfect fit against his arms, as though she belonged there.
Temporarily, of course.
“And I guess it had nothing to do with jealousy,” he said.
She leveled her gaze on him. In heels, she stood nearly eye to eye. “And who would be the jealous one in this scenario?”
“You would.”
She snorted indignantly. “You wish.”
“I don’t have to wish. I know. You were jealous.”
She turned her nose up at him. “Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me.”
He slid his hand from her waist, grazing the bare skin of her back with his fingertips, felt her shiver. With the slightest tug he drew her in just a little bit closer.
“Stop that!” she hissed. And even though her lips said no, her eyes were telling him to go for it.
He leaned forward, close to her ear, and whispered, “Admit it, Princess. You want me.”
“I already had you,” she whispered back.
“Yeah, but we both knew one night would never be enough.” He nipped at the shell of her ear and a soft moan slipped from her lips. “Why fight it?”
“You’re absolutely right, there must be an unoccupied closet around here somewhere. Or maybe we should just grab a room key and head upstairs.”
He just grinned, because, joking or not, it might come to that. He stroked his thumb against her bare back. God, he wanted her. He wanted to put his hands on her. Peel that gown from her body and kiss every inch of her skin. “One more night, Princess. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I fail to see how.”
“Think multiples. Lots of them.”
&nb
sp; Her eyes warmed and a subtle grin curled the corners of her lips, and he knew she was his.
“I don’t know about you, Your Highness, but I’m feeling tense again.”
She tipped her head and gazed up at him through a curtain of dark lashes. “Are you really?”
“Yep.”
“Well then, you know what that means.” She glanced around to see if anyone was looking, then leaned forward, her lips brushing his ear, her breath hot on his skin, and whispered in a sultry voice. “You’re going to have a really long night.”
Twelve
Sophie hadn’t been kidding when she said it would be a long night. And she’d made sure of it, by basically torturing him. Rubbing up against him on the dance floor when no one was looking, sliding her leg against his under the table during dinner or slipping her hand under the tablecloth to lay it on his thigh. And all with the rest of the family sitting at the table.
She was ruthless and she was good at it. By the time the second course was served he was so turned on he felt ready to crawl out of his own skin.
After dinner she excused herself to the ladies room and Alex headed straight to the bar for a drink. A strong one. With lots of ice that he may or may not dump down the front of his pants.
It was only eight, and according to Sophie they wouldn’t be getting out of there any sooner than midnight. Possibly later. And then there was the problem of getting over to her residence unnoticed. Or maybe she would come to him again.
The bartender set his double scotch on the bar and Alex took a deep swallow.
“Can I have this dance?”
He turned to find Sophie standing behind him, that devilish look in her eyes.
“So you can torture me?”
She smiled. “You started it.”
Yes, he had. And he was probably getting exactly what he deserved. And quite frankly loving the hell out of it. Not only was it sexually arousing, but he was having…fun. “Can you keep your hands to yourself? Miss We-Have-to-Be-Discreet.”
She held out a hand to him. “I promise to behave.”
He took her hand and let her lead him out to the dance floor. He seriously questioned her promise to behave, but if she had planned not to, she never got the chance. In the beginning of the first song, she slipped, and if he hadn’t been holding on to her, she would have probably gone down hard on the dance floor. She let out a cry of pain, clutching his arms and holding one foot off the ground.
He steadied her, so she didn’t fall over. “What happened?”
“My ankle. I think I twisted it.”
“Are you all right?”
She winced and nodded. “I think so. My shoe fell off. Do you see it?”
He looked down and found it lying about a foot away. He leaned over and grabbed it for her, and saw immediately what had happened. The heel had partially snapped off. “It’s broken.”
“What?”
He handed it to her. “The heel busted.”
Around them couples were beginning to stop and look and murmur words of sympathy. This had to be embarrassing for her, almost taking a dive on the dance floor. Not that he felt she had any reason to be embarrassed. Accidents happen. But Sophie liked to be in control, to be self-sufficient. This was the sort of thing that would really chap her pride.
“Can you put weight on it?” Alex asked, wanting to get her out of the crowd and back to the table before people started making a scene.
“I don’t know.” She put her foot flat on the floor and sucked in a surprised breath, her eyes welling with moisture. “Ouch.”
That was a big no. “Let’s get you back to the table.”
She winced in pain. “I don’t think I can walk.”
He hadn’t planned on making her walk, or hobble back on one foot. He scooped her up off her feet—or in this case, her foot—and into his arms. She gasped and looped her arms around his neck.
He carried her across the dance floor, the crowd parting like the Red Sea to allow them through. When Hannah and Phillip saw them coming, they both flew to their feet.
“What happened?” Hannah rushed to Sophie’s side as Alex set her down in her chair. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She showed Hannah her shoe. “I twisted my ankle when my heel broke.”
“Do you need a doctor?” Phillip asked.
Sophie rolled her eyes. “It’s just twisted.”
“It was probably that slippery dance floor,” Hannah said. “I almost fell once, too.”
“Then we should sue the owners for negligence,” Sophie said. “Oh wait, that’s us.”
Hannah knelt down and examined the ankle, and when she touched it, Sophie winced. “It’s swelling,” she told Phillip. “She needs to ice this. And probably have the physician look at it to be on the safe side.”
“I’ll escort her home,” Phillip said.
“Phillip, this is your benefit,” Sophie told him. “You can’t just leave. Get me to the car and I’ll be fine alone.”
“I’m not sending you home in a car alone.”
If there was a better time to jump in, Alex couldn’t think of one. “You stay,” he told Phillip. “I’ll see her home.”
“Are you sure?” Phillip asked.
Oh, yeah, he was sure. Sophie would definitely be needing some pampering, and he was the man for the job. Not that he believed it would go any further than that with her being in obvious pain.
He was seeing a very long, cold shower in his immediate future.
“Should we call for a wheelchair?” Hannah asked, looking worried.
“I can carry her,” Alex said.
Sophie shot him a wry smile. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I’ll manage.”
Hannah said something to one of the bodyguards, then turned back to them. “They’re pulling up a car around back, so this doesn’t become a press spectacle. Or we’ll be reading in the papers tomorrow that she has a compound fracture or her leg was severed.”
With no effort at all, Alex scooped Sophie out of the chair and followed Hannah, trailed by Phillip and two stoic bodyguards, out the back door and through the kitchen to the service entrance. As promised there was a car waiting just outside the door. As well as a small crowd of photographers. So much for avoiding the press.
Under a shower of flashes, Alex set Sophie on the seat in the back and got her settled in, then turned to Phillip and Hannah.
“Make sure she takes something for the swelling,” Hannah said. “And see that she keeps the ankle elevated.”
“Thanks for taking care of her, Alex,” Phillip said, shaking his hand. “We’ll try not to be too late.”
“No need to rush. I’m sure she’ll probably take something for the pain and go right to bed.”
“Well then, we’ll see you tomorrow when we leave for the yacht.”
The bodyguards escorted them back inside and Alex climbed in beside Sophie. “Well, that was exciting.”
“You know me. Never a dull moment.” She removed the unbroken shoe and tossed it, along with the broken one, on the seat beside her, and told the driver. “To the palace.”
“Don’t you want to go back to your residence?”
“I think it’s better if we go to your suite.”
Was she suggesting that she still wanted to spend the night together?
She pulled the pins from her hair and it tumbled down across her shoulders in a dark and silky cascade, and he felt mesmerized watching her.
“I figured you would want to go right to bed,” he said.
She flashed him a sexy smile. “Oh, I do.”
“Your own bed,” he said. “To rest.”
She shrugged. “I’m not tired.”
“What about your ankle?”
“What about it?”
What about it? “Doesn’t it hurt?”
She twisted it back and forth a few times, then rotated it in a circle. Then she stomped it down hard on the car floor. “Well, would
you look at that. It seems to be all better.”
All better? Wait a minute…“Your Highness, were you faking it?”
“How else were we supposed to get out of there?”
“What did you do? Go in the ladies’ room and break off your heel?”
She just smiled.
He should have known. He should have figured that a broken heel was too damned convenient. So much for her worrying about her pride.
He folded his arms across his chest. “That’s devious, even for you.”
“I’ve done worse, believe me. And I would have told you, but I needed it to be convincing.” She laid her hand on his thigh, gazing up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Are you angry with me?”
He eyed her sternly. “Very.”
She gave him a pout. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah.” He caught her behind the neck and kissed her, long and slow and deep, nipping her lip before he let go. “In fact, the minute we’re alone, I plan to punish you severely.”
If a punishment to Alex meant satisfying a woman until she was limp and defenseless, then he’d made good on his threat.
She lay in bed beside him, their arms and legs entwined, her head resting on his chest. And she knew already that any further one-more-night talk was just pointless. She wanted a hundred nights with Alex. A thousand even.
But she would settle for the little time he had left.
She stroked his chest, playing with the fine, silky hair. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I guess that depends on the question.”
“What was your wife like?”
“Oh, that kind of question. And here I was having such a good time.”
“Come on, Alex, she couldn’t have been that bad.”
“She was…” He struggled with it for a moment, then finally said, “Ambitious.”
“She worked?”
“Oh, no. She was very content to spend my money. When I say ambitious, I’m talking socially. She was friends with the right people and chair of all the right clubs. She drove the right car and lived in the right neighborhood. She was even having an affair with her personal trainer. Talk about socially acceptable.”
Affair with the Princess Page 11
