She said his name more insistently and breathlessly, too, as he kissed her. He started with quick, teasing kisses. And then he made those kisses longer. Deeper. He used his tongue and his fingers, too.
In no time, she reached for him. She kicked off her sandals and braced her feet up on the arms of the chair. She held his head tight and close. He breathed in heat and vanilla and jasmine and musk, tasting her in that most intimate way as he kissed her, coaxing her, driving her steadily to the brink.
And over.
She held him tighter than ever then. He could hardly breathe and he didn’t care. The slick, hot center of her pulsed against his mouth. He drank her in as she cried his name out good and loud. When she sagged back to the chair cushion, he gathered her limp body into his arms again and carried her to the bedroom, where he set her so carefully onto the turned-back bed.
He got rid of his clothes. She reached for him as he came down to her. He buried himself in her glorious wet heat and forgot everything but the feel of her beneath him, the miracle of her flawless skin under his hands.
They made it last. By the time she went over the edge, taking him with her, he was lost to all but the wonder of her body locked to his.
Afterward, he held her. He stroked her hair and ran his hands down the sweet, tender bumps of her spine. She fell asleep and so did he.
In the middle of the night he woke. She lay against him, smooth and tempting, smelling of sex and flowers. He drew her even closer and made love to her all over again.
* * *
By the time they returned to Montedoro on Wednesday, Rhia had resigned herself to the fact that Marcus was not going to try and find out any more about his lost father—or about his mother who had died so tragically on the night of his birth.
Yes, she felt it would be better for him to know more, to find out everything he could. But he’d been through so much in his life. Too much. If he’d had enough, who was she to tell him he had to find out more?
In the end, although she could try and get him to see the wisdom of making real and lasting peace with his past, she couldn’t do it for him. If he said he was satisfied with
the way things stood now, it was her job to accept his decision.
Acceptance was part of loving.
And Rhia did love. She loved Marcus. She knew that now.
Maybe she had always loved him. Or maybe, since Montana, she’d learned to love him again. She didn’t know for sure which. And it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that at some point during their second time together in Southern California, she had come to grips with the fact that she loved him now.
She loved his bravery and his goodness, loved his unflagging determination to do the right thing. She loved that he wanted so fervently to be a good father. She loved how, though he’d started with less than nothing, he’d manage to create a meaningful, productive life for himself. She loved how hard he was trying to tell her about himself, to share with her all the secrets he would never tell another.
She loved the way he laughed—just a little unwillingly, as though someone might catch him at it and steal the moment of humor away. She loved his intelligence and his wonderful, powerful body.
She loved him. It was that enormous and that simple. And she understood now that it was very likely she always would love him.
For her, the decision was made at last. She wanted to make a life with him. To be his wife as well as his devoted lover and the mother of their coming child. She was ready to say yes as soon as he asked her to marry him again.
Unfortunately, though he continued to stay with her at the villa and to treat her with tenderness, consideration, passion and what seemed like deep affection, he never actually said that he loved her. And a month after they returned to Montedoro from Los Angeles, he had yet to mention marriage again.
Chapter Fourteen
“It’s so simple,” Allie said.
Rhia braced herself for a lecture.
It was a little past noon on the second Wednesday in August and they were sharing lunch at Allie’s villa, which was smaller than Rhia’s, not in the harbor area and without nearly as nice a view. But it was closer to the palace and the stables where Allie spent most of her time, so she was perfectly happy living there.
What Allie was not happy with was Rhia and the way she was handling this problem with Marcus. She scolded, “You have to tell him that you love him. And then you have to say that you do want to marry him, that you’ve made up your mind at last.”
Rhia picked up her water glass, but plunked it back down without taking a sip. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, yes, I do. You’re the one who’s making this way too complicated and impossibly difficult.”
“No. No, I’m not.”
Allie ate a scallop and then stuck her fork in her linguine and twirled up a nice big mouthful. “Yes, you most definitely are. You know what the Americans say.”
“Please don’t tell me.”
“No guts, no glory.”
“Didn’t I ask you not to tell me?”
Allie ate her fat forkful of linguine with obvious relish. “You’re the one who went on and on about how you would never marry a man just because you were having his baby. Well, now you don’t have that problem anymore. You want to marry Marcus because you realize he’s the man for you. So do it. Tell the man you love him and can’t wait to spend your life with him.”
“But what if he’s changed his mind?” Rhia’s stomach churned. She pushed her plate away. This conversation did not lend itself to the enjoyment of scallops, even if they were fresh-caught and perfectly prepared. She put her hand on her stomach, which was growing rounder by the day. She had a definite baby bump now. Yesterday, at the museum, as they ticked off their progress with the final preparations for the Adele Canterone exhibit in two weeks, she’d caught Claudine eyeing her belly. Rhia was certain that the museum director had guessed she was pregnant—not that it really mattered that Claudine had guessed. After all, it wouldn’t be long now before everyone would know.
Everyone including the paparazzi. Rhia knew how such things went. She would be all over the tabloids, seen from the side, her bump prominently displayed for the whole world to ogle and gossip about. She could picture the headlines now: Bodyguard’s Love Child. Princess Rhia’s Baby Bump. A Baby But No Wedding Bells for Princess Rhia.
Ugh.
All right, yes. She had known this would happen. She had told herself that she was prepared for it, that she would get through all the unpleasantness of being just scandalous enough to get the attention of the tabloids even if she was only a far-down-the-birth-order princess in a family full of potential heirs.
And she was prepared.
But now that she knew she loved Marcus and wanted to marry him, it didn’t have to be all that bad. If they got married, the scandal would quickly fade away.
But they couldn’t get married.
Because Marcus hadn’t asked her and she was too afraid to ask him.
Allie was not through lecturing. “What are you worried about? He’s not going to change his mind about marrying you. I mean, please. How many times has he asked you already?”
“Um. Seven? Nine? I’m not sure.”
“Well, and there’s another reason why you should do the asking.”
“What are you talking about now?”
“Rhia. It’s your turn.”
“My turn? There are no turns when it comes to proposing marriage.”
“In your case, there ought to be.”
Rhia pushed her plate a little farther away. “All right. I admit that I really should just go ahead and ask him.”
“You admit the simple truth. Will wonders never cease?”
“But I can’t.”
Allie gave her a look of pitiless disapproval. “Oh, yes, you can. You’re not a wimp. Stop acting like one.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“Allie...
” Her voice failed her. Her throat had clutched and her eyes burned with hot tears. “What if he turns me down?” There. She had said it.
And Allie was not impressed. “He’s not going to turn you down. Even if he wasn’t crazy in love with you—which it’s obvious to everyone but you that he is—he wants to be married to you because of the baby.”
“How many times do I have to explain that I do not want a husband who only wants me because of the baby? And besides, he’s...different lately. He’s more relaxed. Happier.”
Allie threw up her hands. “You’re making my arguments for me. He is different. He’s a happy man now. I know that he’ll say yes. Just do it. Just ask him.”
“But what if he says no?”
“Then you’ll still have turned him down six—or eight—times more than he did you.”
“Five or seven,” she corrected in a tiny little voice that was cracking around the edges.
Allie blinked. “Huh?”
“Allie, I begged him.”
“Wait. What? I thought you hadn’t even said ‘I love you’ yet.”
“But I did.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.” A rough, ugly sob escaped her. “I stood in the dirt in front of a run-down farmhouse in the South of France, and I pleaded with him to give our relationship a chance. I cried right there in front of him, like a pathetic, hopeless fool with no pride whatsoever and I told him that I loved him. And he said it was over and he wasn’t interested and would I please just go away.”
“Oh.” Allie gulped. “That.”
“Yes. That.”
“I guess I had kind of put all that old awfulness right out of my mind.”
“Well, I haven’t. And I...I can’t do that again.” The tears overflowed then. She couldn’t stop them. They rolled down her cheeks and her nose started running. She tried to swipe the flood away with the back of her hand.
Allie gave up all pretense of talking tough. “Oh, my darling. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped all over you. I’m an ass. Don’t...” She got up, grabbed a handful of tissues, scooted to Rhia’s side and gave them to her. Then she bent to wrap her arms around her. “Dearest. You mustn’t.”
“I can’t help it.” Rhia tried to mop up the flood a little, but the tears just kept coming. “I want to tell him, but I can’t do it. I just...I can’t, that’s all.”
“Well, all right. All right, then.” Allie patted her hair, stroked her back. “You go ahead. You just cry it out...”
“Oh, Allie, you’re right. You are. I am being so very, very stupid over this.”
Allie had totally surrendered her tough-love approach. She said what a good sister should say. “My darling, you are not in any way stupid.”
“Yes, I am! Stupid, dumb and way too emotional. It’s the hormones. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself....” She broke down and sobbed some more.
Allie held her and tenderly stroked her hair. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. Sometimes a woman just needs a good cry.”
So Rhia cried. And Allie went on holding her, whispering that it would be all right.
When the tears finally stopped, Rhia blew her nose and wiped her eyes and retired to the powder room to try and repair the ravages before returning to the museum.
As she was leaving, Allie couldn’t resist getting in the last word. “Just tell him you love him. If you could only do that much...”
That evening when she got home, Marcus was waiting. He had a big bouquet of fire lilies for her and a bright-purple bruise high on his cheekbone.
The flowers cheered her up. A man who didn’t want to marry her wouldn’t be bringing her flowers.
Would he?
She thanked him with a kiss, gave Yvonne the flowers to put in a vase and took Marcus to the kitchen where she found a bag of peas in the freezer and made him hold it to the side of his face.
He told her he’d trained that morning with Denis and then with Rene.
“You fought with them, you mean.” She tried not to sound disapproving and knew that she probably failed.
He didn’t deny it. “That Denis has a deadly right hook.” He said it with what could only be called admiration. “He’s not a bad guy, really. Neither is Rene...”
He was coming to accept his childhood enemies? Would wonders never cease?
She said, only a little bit smugly, “Do you realize you are sounding almost forgiving?”
He shrugged. “Won’t the sisters at St. Stephen’s be proud?” And then he told her the important news. He’d had a meeting with her brother Alexander and Sir Hector Anteros that afternoon. “My days providing security to the princely family are numbered. I’m being promoted to commandant and over the next few years I will be groomed for the leadership of the CCU.”
“Alex is stepping down?”
“He says he will be spending more time with Lili and their twins in Alagonia and focusing more on his duties there. He is the father of the future king, after all.”
It really was exciting news. “Oh, Marcus. Congratulations. How wonderful.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” He was so confident, so self-assured, standing there in the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas against his handsome face. “I’m the man for that post and it’s satisfying that I’ll have it.” His eyes sparked with wry humor. “Even if I do have something of an unfair advantage....”
She frowned up at him. “What advantage?”
He reached out, caught a lock of her air and tugged on it. “Well, Rhia. You.”
She tried to read his thoughts in his expression, and failed utterly. So she asked, “Does it bother you that your relationship with me would make my brother more likely to choose you as his successor?”
He chuckled then. It was a real chuckle—good-natured, lighthearted. “It might if I didn’t know that I fully deserve this promotion and will give it my all.”
“So then, it doesn’t bother you?”
“Not in the least.”
Rhia tried not to gape at him, not to demand to know what he’d done with the real Marcus. He’d always been so proud. Too proud. And she’d dreamed that he might somehow become a little more relaxed about things. That he might see his own value and simply accept the good things that came his way. Like for instance, that a princess might have fallen in love with him all those years ago.
Apparently, he had finally learned to do just that—at least when it came to his military career.
What else had changed about him? Had he come around to her original way of thinking about the baby, too? Had he come to agree that they didn’t need to be married for him to be a hands-on, loving father?
He must have sensed her distress. He took the peas away from his cheek and set them on the counter. “Rhia, are you all right?”
I love you and I want to marry you. I want that so much. It’s making me crazy how much I want that. “Ahem. I, well, I have been feeling a little bit weepy today.” And I am a complete coward lately. I seem to have no idea how to say what I want.
He reached out and laid his big hand on her rounded belly. “You’re all right, though? Both of you?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
And he took her hand and led her out of the kitchen and into the bedroom they’d been sharing for almost two months now.
He took off her clothes and pushed her down to the bed, where he rubbed her feet and then massaged her back. He told her she was beautiful, even though she knew that she looked haggard and that her eyes were still red and swollen from her crying jag at Allie’s. He put his big hands on her belly and he talked to the baby. He’d been doing that for a couple of weeks now, talking so softly and soothingly, saying the sweetest things.
Dear Lord. He was turning out to be an absolutely wonderful man.
If only he loved her. If only he wanted to marry her not only for the baby, but for her sake, as well. If only it could all not turn out the way it had six years ago.
When he finished his conversa
tion with the baby, he kissed his way up over her belly and her breasts. He brushed a warm, soft row of kisses over her throat and her chin to her mouth. She opened for him, sighing. He kissed her some more. He kissed her everywhere. He made beautiful love to her. At the end, she almost forgot her fears enough to shout out her love for him as her climax rolled through her.
But she didn’t. She held it in.
And in the morning when she woke, he was already gone for his predawn workout at the CCU training yard.
He called her at the museum later that morning. “Did I tell you that Roland’s ashes arrived?”
“That’s a relief.” It was a complicated process, shipping cremated remains internationally.
“They came yesterday afternoon before you got home.” Home. He had called the villa home. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? “I got all wrapped up in telling you about my promotion and forgot to say that they were here.”
“Well, I’m glad they arrived safely.”
“Yes.” His voice sounded far away, suddenly. “I’ve reserved a motorboat. I was thinking I would take care of them this afternoon.”
He would take care of them. So, then. He wanted to do the job alone. She could accept that, could understand that it was something he might want to do without company. Still, disappointment settled on her shoulders, heavy as a cape made of lead. She yearned to be the one he needed with him at a time like this. Then he asked, “Will you meet me at four? Can you get away?” He named a slip at the pier not all that far from the villa, down in the area where the smaller boats were docked.
He wanted her to go with him! The cape of lead lifted. She felt light as air. “Yes. Of course I’ll be there.”
* * *
She considered going home and changing into something more casual to go out on a small boat. But then,
really, this was the only sendoff the mysterious Roland was going to get. So she wore what she’d worn to work: a lightweight, fitted sheath of raw silk and a contrasting raw-silk jacket. She had a scarf in her bag in case the wind came up.
He was waiting when she got there, looking so handsome in the white uniform he’d worn the day she told him that there would be a baby. The bruise on his cheekbone from the bout with Denis was already fading. He helped her into the boat, which was larger than she’d expected, with a small cabin and a roomy cockpit.
37 Her Highness and the Bodyguard Page 18