“Don’t call me a cabbage,” she mumbled.
“What do people usually call you, then?”
“Dani.”
He smiled and gave her a squeeze around her waist. “Well, that suits you. It’s a hellion’s name, all right. You can call me Rafe, if you like.”
“I don’t wish to call you Rafe.”
“No?”
“It is a scoundrelly name.” She looked over her shoulder at him archly. “I shall call you Rafael, like the angel.”
“Hmmm, an optimist, are you?” He sifted his fingers gently through her hair, then massaged her scalp and neck and thin shoulders until he felt the tension easing from her.
She sank back against his chest with a luxurious sigh. “That feels wonderful.”
“I should probably warn you I’m rather gifted with my hands.” He nuzzled her ear and felt her tense again as he explored the curve of her neck with little nibbling kisses, but as he continued massaging her shoulders, again she slowly relaxed. “You have such pretty arms,” he said, caressing his way down them to her wrists. Then he gently took her hands, linking his fingers with hers. “Are you uneasy with this?” he whispered, pausing, feeling as careful with her as though he were still just a youth with his first lady love.
“No,” she said quietly.
“Good.” With his fingers still threaded through hers, he drew her hands back and pinned her arms ever so gently behind her for a moment, gazing down her gown’s neckline at her creamy, lifted chest. Her breasts were small but delightfully pert, firm. He wondered if he could fit her whole breast in his mouth. She’d like that, he thought with a narrow smile. He fixed her hands behind his waist and reached down to caress her slim sides.
“It’s getting dark,” she said rather breathlessly. “Shouldn’t we perhaps be getting back?”
“I like being on the water at night. You can’t see, you can only hear the waves and smell the salt, and you have to feel your way back to shore…feel your way through the dark,” he whispered as he ran his hands slowly over her flat belly and upward to her breasts. “A man has to know exactly what he’s doing.”
She arched back against him with a soft catch in her breath as he cupped her small, fine breasts in his large hands. Her generous nipples turned hard under his lightly circling thumbs.
“Rafael,” she moaned breathlessly, flexing against him so that her breasts seemed to swell wantonly into his hands. Her arms were wrapped behind his neck. “We…can’t. We are not married yet.”
“You’re in no danger, my love.” He slid his hands back down her belly and began stroking her thighs. “I don’t wish to deflower you tonight. Tonight I just want to learn what you like.”
“But I—I don’t know what I…like….” Her voice trailed off on a dreamy gasp of pleasure.
“Well, then,” he whispered, “let’s find out.”
With her head cushioned on his chest, she turned her face to him, seeking his mouth in innocent ardor. He lowered his head and parted her lips with a languorous stroke of his tongue, savoring the taste of her. She reached up, caressing his cheek as they kissed in slow, soulful intensity.
While she ran her fingers through his unbound hair, Rafe continued kissing her, deftly inching her skirts upward over her exquisite legs. His heart pounded as she let his hands roam up under the gathered layers of silk gown and muslin petticoat. He groaned when his fingertips came to the edge of her white stockings and found warm, ineffably tender skin. His groin flooded with heat and his body turned rock hard in an instant, but he fought to hold his throbbing need in check, unwilling to push her too fast.
She was so fragile and small, so precious in his arms. She was so different from everyone he knew, the hardened, calculating creatures of the court. Dani might think herself tough and independent, but he ached to protect her nearly as fervently as he longed to give her pleasure. Inexperienced as she was, he hoped to lessen her anxiety about their wedding night by letting her glimpse the joys that lay in store for her.
Under her dress, he explored her skin, gently kneading her hips and stroking her soft, flat belly, devouring her mouth all the while. He caressed the reticence out of her, until there was no tension under his hands, only rising, supple warmth, turning swiftly hot and frantic.
Behind his closed eyes, he smiled to himself as his leisurely pace made her restless. She arched and writhed slightly between his legs in virginal frustration, an impatient moan in her throat. Her hips lifted with sweet craving as his right hand glided down her belly. He knew just where she wanted to be touched and was glad to acquiesce.
When he stroked her tenderly and found her core soaked with silky wetness, throbbing under his fingertips in pure feminine invitation, he felt his tight rein on self-control fly apart. He went still, warring with himself, growing drunk on her sighs of urgent need.
“Rafael, Rafael…”
Heroically, he conquered himself and kissed her earlobe. “Dani. Would you like to watch?” he whispered in wicked softness, sliding her skirts higher with his other hand.
“No! I couldn’t!” she panted, scandalized.
“Watch.”
Her chest heaved. “No! Don’t…make me.”
A satyric smile curved his mouth, for he heard the eagerness in her voice. Perhaps it was time for the little Masked Rider to have a new adventure.
“Why not? Is it sinful?” he whispered. “Don’t you like it? Do you want me to stop?”
“Rafael,” she pleaded, melting back against him.
“Watch me touch you,” he murmured as his fingertips began to circle. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, my darling. You’re allowed to do everything with me. I only want to fulfill your desires. Watch me pleasure you. Look at how beautiful you are…your sweet body. I love to touch you. You’re like a goddess, Dani, like Artemis of the moon, the huntress, free and untamed. You are the changing moon, my wild, virgin love.”
“Oh, Rafael.” She turned and kissed him ardently.
Inexplicable burning wetness rose behind his closed eyes for an instant at her purity, then quickly fled as their kiss ended.
He kissed the curve of her neck, moved by her shy uncertainty as she lowered her head and observed him touching her, panting slightly. She wrapped her hands around his bent knees on either side of her and leaned back weakly against his body.
She was so ready, he thought in agony, his hardness chafing against her back through their clothes. It would have been so easy to lay her down and take her now, here on the warm, glossy planks of the deck, that still held the heat of the sun, but he repeatedly shoved temptation aside, vowing to prove his respect for her by making their wedding night her first time.
“Is this too hard?” he asked as he touched her.
“Perfect,” she breathed, arching wildly.
He smiled against her neck. His thumb deftly teased her jeweled center while his middle finger gently stroked inside her tight, fluid heat, and as he kissed her ear and the back of her neck, in mere minutes she gave in completely. Her fingers dug into his breeches-clad thighs as she gasped with amazement, then moaned her delight, laying her head back on his shoulder as she moved with his touch.
Victory enraptured him. He gathered her tightly in his arms before her feminine groans of bliss had barely ended. He turned her to face him and held her with an almost savage sense of possession. She wound her arms around his neck and clung to him, her sweet body limp.
“Oh, Rafael,” she whispered, with wonder tinging her voice. She buried her face against his neck for a moment, then lingeringly kissed his cheek. “I think—I think I must have needed that,” she confided as she slowly caught her breath.
Taken aback, he burst out laughing softly and hugged her helplessly. “Absurd little darling,” he whispered.
“I mean it,” she protested in full gravity.
“I know,” he said, chuckling, those strange, brief, nostalgic tears rising again in his eyes as he buried his smile in her hair. This is what I have
been missing.
Fullness. Contentment. For the first time in ages that he could remember, he felt like he was really there, with her in this moment, not just making an appearance, going through the motions. He felt as though she had given him back everything Julia had robbed him of—his innocence.
She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes with a blissful little smile, while Rafe glanced up at the cool blue moon. He held her tenderly, his soul mate, neither of them speaking or moving, both listening to the cadence of each other’s breathing and savoring the warmth of having been found.
CHAPTER
NINE
Dani felt like she was dancing on air as they walked back up into the Palazzo Reale, her hand clasped in Rafael’s. If they passed footmen and courtiers and ladies, she noticed them not at all. She only had eyes for Rafael, glancing constantly at his classically chiseled face and needing, perhaps, just a little reassurance that the wonderful, wicked thing he had done to her was no cause for belated regret.
He walked her to her apartment and kissed her goodnight in the little sitting room packed with flowers. Their perfumes intoxicated her like the bottle of wine they had finished.
“I don’t like saying goodbye,” she murmured, a bit tipsy and loath to release her arms from around his neck.
“Would you like me to stay with you tonight?” he whispered, running his hands up her sides in sweet coaxing.
A shiver of temptation ran through her. Pulling back, she looked up at him with a smile. “You’d better not.”
He gave her a charming little sulk. “But I want to.”
“Don’t pout, dearest. You’ll see me tomorrow,” she said teasingly, reaching up to cup his clean-shaved cheek.
“It’s already tomorrow. It’s half past two.”
“Then you’ll see me today. Later.”
“Ah, very well.” But instead of letting her go, his hold around her waist tightened and he brushed the tip of her nose with his own. “So, will you show me that trick of yours sometime, riding the horse standing up?”
“Maybe, when I get to know you better.”
“I like the sound of that. Hmmm, I wonder what presents I can send you tomorrow,” he mused as he stole another little kiss, nipping playfully at her lower lip. “What would you like?”
She smiled dreamily, closed her eyes, and laid her head on his broad shoulder. “I don’t need any presents. I can’t think of a single thing. I’m happy.”
“Then you must let me make you happier still. Name your heart’s desire.”
She pulled back to smile archly at him. “Well, now that you mention it, if you’re really determined, my roof at home needs fixing.”
He groaned.
“Maria could use help caring for Grandfather, and some of the peasants have been asking for months for some repairs to their houses—”
“Can’t you think of anything for yourself, woman? You’re supposed to ask for diamonds or something. I’ll gladly take care of this tedious roof business, but must you thwart my every attempt to spoil you?”
Laughing, she hugged him again. “You are too good to be true, Rafael.”
“I’m true,” he said softly, nuzzling her cheek.
“Then that’s enough for me. There’s nothing else I want.”
“Oh, really?” He gave a sudden, mischievous half-smile in the dark. His caressing fingers dipped flirtatiously between the cheeks of her bottom, and deeper, pressing muslin petticoats against her. “I don’t think that’s quite accurate,” he remarked pleasantly as she protested with a shriek and tried to squirm away from him.
He caught her around the waist and stopped her from fleeing, stroking more insistently. Trapped in his arms, laughing and scandalized, she blushed crimson as his slow, wicked touch sent jolts of mad desire zooming through her anew.
“I think there is something very definite that you crave, my dear, and I think I know just what it is.”
“Go away, you incorrigible rake! I’m falling asleep on my feet.”
“All right,” he relented. “But I shall put you to bed first.”
With that, he swept her up into his arms and carried her into her bedchamber, kissing her soundly before laying her down on her bed.
She stared up at him as he bent over her, his hands planted on either side of her, his massive shoulders looming in the dark. His long dark gold hair hung down, shadowing his angular face, but his eyes were luminous in the gloom. He looked like Lucifer, come to her in a dream to seduce her.
She held her breath, staring up at him as his gaze moved hungrily over her face and her body. Then he met her eyes without a trace of a smile but with a hot male aggressiveness that made her shrink back deeper into the mattress.
He was so much larger than she, so richly endowed with raw, rippling, physical power.
“I am burning to make love to you,” he whispered, starkly holding her stare. “I have longed to feel you under me since the first moment I saw you. But,” he said with a sudden, more tender smile, noticing the startled fright in her wide-eyed stare, “I can wait. One more night I can wait, if I must, love. Not a moment more. And then…”—lightly he traced the curve of her face, “Heaven.”
She swallowed hard. She had felt so close to him all evening, she wondered if she ought to tell him now about her great fear of childbirth, though she knew it was her duty to give him a son. But when he looked at her with his gaze so full of admiration, she could not bring herself to reveal her weakness.
Golden, magnificent Prince Rafael thought her fearless and brave. She did not have Chloe Sinclair’s great beauty; she only had her character to adorn her, and she was vain enough to wish to hide it from him that she was actually quite a coward.
He leaned forward, kissed her chest, then, giving her a final smile, pulled out of her arms and walked wearily to the door. She came up onto her elbows and watched him stride away, still a little frightened but thrilled merely by his bold, proud walk. Her gaze moved appreciatively over him, from the powerful breadth of his shoulders down to his lean waist and taut buttocks. She rolled onto her side and propped her cheek in her hand, watching him.
He paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder at her. His white smile was wolfish in the dark, his eyes glittering. “You look good enough to eat, Daniela. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
She sent him a drowsy, sensual smile. “Goodnight, Rafael.”
“Ah, well.” With a long-suffering sigh, he gave her a sketch of an ironic, gentlemanly bow, then went out, closing the door quietly behind him.
Sighing in delicious contentment, she lay back with a smile on her lips, unable to come back to her senses even though she knew she was in deep, sweet peril. You’re an oddball, a tomboy, a misfit, her better sense clamored, trying to warn her back from the precipice toward which her emotions were irrevocably stampeding. You could never hold a man like him. But she was falling gloriously in love and it felt too wonderful to stop.
Soon she drifted to sleep, dreaming of Rafael…and heaven.
If the royal golden boy had caused a scandal with his intention of marrying the so-called Masked Rider, Orlando knew the next day that there was much more to it than a mere outrageous lark, for today the prince set out—almost deliberately, it seemed—to make enemies. Orlando could not guess what he was up to—a fact which in itself alarmed him, since he had always rather taken Rafe the Rake as a joke.
Today the prince began his casual war on the court by setting the lovely Lady Daniela on his knee just before the fiscal meeting began, and keeping her there for the duration—flaunting his chosen bride in their faces in defiance of his father’s will.
The ministers were infuriated at this utter flouting of decorum: Rafe answered them with a bland invitation to leave if they didn’t like it.
Only the bombastic Bishop Justinian had done so with a thunderous refusal to perform their wedding ceremony until the king had approved the match. Then, in a whoosh of satin robes, he had exi
ted grandly
Lady Daniela had flinched at the bishop’s holy ire, still innocent of how the prince was using her to make his stand. The girl was clearly uncomfortable, but Rafe refused to let her flee, holding her firmly yet gently on his lap and whispering in her ear.
Her wide, blue-green eyes still wore an expression of naive uncertainty, but Orlando noticed that the more the old men nagged and badgered Rafe about various matters, the more the girl’s countenance changed from a blush of maidenly embarrassment to a scowl of brazen defiance, until at length she appeared quite content to stay just where she was, at Rafe’s bidding, his little ally.
The lover and the fighter, he thought, shaking his head to himself.
Rafe’s light caress on her hair seemed all that stopped the lovely, feral redhead from lunging across the table and lashing out at the men who would dare treat Ascencion’s future king without the pomp and obeisance due his rank. Rafe and Daniela’s united front against the ministers silenced the old men until at last they simmered down to work with little more than a few obtuse grumbles.
The younger men, particularly Adriano and Nic, exchanged disgusted looks with Orlando, but dared not let Rafe see them.
Orlando caught Adriano’s glance and held it for an extra second or two, then the beautiful young man looked away, his high-boned cheeks flushing. Orlando smiled to himself, biding his time. He knew the weak link in the chain that was the prince’s inner circle. Adriano was jealous, mercurial, emotionally fragile. It didn’t surprise Orlando that Rafe’s most ardent follower was so hostile to Lady Daniela.
The ostensible reason for the girl’s presence at the meeting was to take notes, since Rafe could not be bothered to do it himself, but it was distracting how the prince sat at the head of the table with the pretty girl on his lap and could not seem to keep his hands off her. Lounging like some pagan emperor on his throne, signing the fate of millions with one hand, while with the other he was constantly caressing her back, toying languidly with her hair, nuzzling her cheek.
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