She could put the whole episode behind her, forget it ever happened...
Forget? Forget those days with Blake? Forget the night when he'd held her in his arms and taught her about love? No, she thought, no, not love, not for him. Never for him.
She'd been a job he'd been paid to do.
Tears filled her eyes. Surely there had been moments when there had been more to it than that, moments when he'd looked at her and held her and felt something? Oh, God, she wanted so desperately to believe that, but it was a lie. This wasn't one of those romances where the Prince and the Princess loved happily ever after. It had been what he’d called it, a romantic interlude. A fantasy…
The doorbell was ringing. The messenger with the annulment papers, she thought, opening the door slowly. Still, when she saw the boy standing there, holding out a large manila envelope, she felt as if her legs were going to give way.
"Miss? Aren't you going to take this?"
The boy was looking at her as if she was crazy. Maybe she was. After all, the papers inside the envelope changed nothing; the annulment was just a formality. Her marriage to Blake had never been real. The whole thing had been a deal with the devil, and her mother had been wrong. It wasn't enough to face him without fear; when you dealt with the devil, you had to be prepared to pay his price.
Finally, she reached out and took the envelope. When she closed the door, she trembled as she leaned back against it. Should she open the envelope? Yes, of course... No. What was the point? She knew what was in it. And as foolish as it was, she didn't want to see the scrawl of Blake's name, and the ease with which he'd signed away what had been between them.
You really are crazy! she told herself. There hadn’t been anything between them, only a night’s madness. That was all.
That was everything.
She started at the sound of the doorbell. What now? She wasn't expecting anyone—unless Jeremy had decided to try and coax her into changing her mind about dinner at Plantation Key. Hell. She wasn't up to dealing with him tonight.
"Jeremy," she said, pulling open the door, "I know you mean well, but I'm really not in the moo..."
Her words tumbled into silence. Blake Rogan stood in the doorway, filling it with his presence, looking as he had the night of her birthday party a lifetime ago, wearing a dark blue suit that fitted his leanly muscled body with custom-made precision. Beneath it, she could see a pale blue shirt and a striped silk tie. His hair was still a bit long, she thought as her bewildered gaze travelled slowly over him, but other than that he looked as urbane as a man could.
Her heart rose into her throat.
“Blake?”
"Hello, Princess. It's been a long time."
"Four months," she said dazedly, "two weeks, and..." She swallowed hard. "What are you doing here?"
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
“I asked you a question. What are you doing here?”
A muscle knotted in his jaw. "I've come for the papers.”
“I don't understand."
"Come on, Princess," he said brusquely, "don't play dumb. The annulment papers." He put his hands on his hips and looked at her. "The receptionist at the law office told me you had them."
"Yes, I have them," she said slowly, "but..."
Blake slammed the door shut.
"I want them," he growled, and he took a step towards her. "And I want them right now."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Elena's hands shook as she drew her robe more closely around her. Yes, of course, she thought—the lawyer had said the papers had been lost in transit. Blake had become impatient for their return and he'd come for them himself. That was why he was here.
“Of course. I have them right here. Do they have to be filed or..."
His voice cut across hers. "Give them to me."
"Look, whatever has to be done will be done. I'm sorry if... They only reached me today, you see, and..."
Blake glowered at her. "Jesus, some things never change. I didn't ask you for a speech, Elena. I asked you to give me the damned papers."
Her eyes narrowed. “I wasn't making a speech, I was simply trying to explain that..."
"Did I ask you for an explanation?"
His eyes were dark, his mouth thinned. Nothing had changed. Beneath the elegant suit, he was still the same as he'd always been, with one difference. One huge difference.
He couldn't intimidate her any more.
"Stop bullying me!”
"You have one hell of a short memory, Princess," he said softly. "Have you forgotten our deal? You don't think, you don't explain, you don't do anything except what I tell you to do." His eyes swept over her, lingering on the rapid rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin summer robe, and then returned to her face. "Give me the papers."
Elena took a deep breath. "Ask politely.”
He laughed.
“The Princess has claws.”
“And do not, absolutely do not call me that! I will not be intimidated!”
"Is that what I'm doing?"
He moved closer to her, so close that she could see herself reflected in the midnight darkness of his eyes. Her breath hissed between suddenly dry lips as she filled her lungs.
"Stop it. We're not in San Felipe anymore."
He smiled and reached out to her, ran his hand gently along her cheek. She trembled at his touch; suddenly, his eyes turned black and his voice became a rough whisper.
"Where we are hasn't a damned thing to do with it, Princess."
"I don't know what you're talking about. You just..." Her words drifted away. There was no sense in lying. Of course she knew. She had spoken of intimidation, but he was speaking of desire, and it was useless to deny it. He knew what he was doing to her—he'd always known, from the beginning.
Elena's eyes met his.
"Don't do this," she said softly.
His hand slid into her hair. "Don't do what?" he murmured.
"Don't...don't play with me." Her throat constricted. "Let me just get the papers and then you can go away."
"Your lawyers must have spent a bloody fortune running me to earth, Princess." He smiled at her. "I guess old Jeremy was getting impatient, hmm?"
He took a last step towards her. They were so close now that, if she wanted to touch him, she had only to lift her hand. But she didn't. She stood there instead, trying not to breathe as his fingers tangled in her hair and brushed the nape of her neck.
“Speaking of Jeremy, where is he?" His gaze went to the open window. The sun was setting, and the ocean lay in blue-grey shadow. "Doesn't he spend his nights with you, Princess?"
Elena drew her breath. She could feel the heat of his body, smell his familiar scent.
She told herself not to be a fool, that he was playing games, reminding her of his power over her, but he had no power over her, not anymore.
This wasn’t San Felipe. It was Miami, and what had been between them had no more substance than a dream.
"Have you and Jeremy set the date yet?"
“Stop.”
“I take it that’s a ‘no.”
“Blake…”
His arms encircled her. She could feel her heart racing.
"Is it because he knows about us?"
"He...he knows we were married. Of course he knows that. I..."
His arms tightened around her. Despite herself, she was drawn against his hard body. Her hands came up between them, flattening against his chest.
"Does he know that I made love to you, Elena?" he whispered. "Does he know that you trembled in my arms all through that night?"
Heat flooded through her. "Rogan. Don't."
Slowly, inexorably, he gathered her to him until nothing separated them but the warmth of his breath. His lips brushed her hair, her forehead, her cheek, his kisses like the drift of a leaf on the wind.
"I'm your husband, Elena. Wives don't call their husbands by their last names."
Tears, swift and unexpected, filled her eyes. "Damn you," she whis
pered, "don't do this. Please, I beg you."
His laughter was soft and triumphant. "You begged me that night, too, Princess. I've lived on that memory for months."
Elena's face lifted to his. "Why are you doing this? The annulment papers..."
"To hell with the annulment papers," he said fiercely, and his mouth dropped to hers.
His kiss demanded everything from her; for the rush of a heartbeat, she held back. She'd already given him too much, she thought wildly. He had wanted her passion, but she'd given him her heart.
And then, unexpectedly, the kiss softened, became indescribably tender, and she was lost.
She'd ached for his touch and thirsted for his kisses, and now he was here, in her arms. He was warm and real, and she would not send him away. There had been too many empty nights already; in the years ahead, there would be thousands more. She would not surrender this moment, this night with the man she loved.
She would remember it all, she told herself while her arms lifted to him. She would store away each caress against the lonely future. She would be Blake's wife, this one last time.
Her arms curled around his neck as he swept her into his arms. "Elena, mi amante," he whispered as he lowered her to the wide sofa that faced the window.
His lover. If only she were, if only she were his lover, his love...
"You're so beautiful, Elena." She closed her eyes as he opened her robe and eased it from her shoulders. "Look at me, Princess," he said softly. "Don't you want to see the way you make me feel when I touch you?"
Her lashes lifted and she trembled when she saw his face. It was tense with desire, dark with need. He reached out and touched his hand to her throat, then brought it slowly down her body, over her breasts, to her belly, to her thighs, and she moaned and moved against his fingers as they parted her and sought her moist warmth.
"Blake," she gasped, "Blake..."
She watched as he pulled off his jacket and tie, and then she reached out and helped him strip away the rest of his clothing, her fingers moving as quickly as his, until finally he was naked beside her.
"Kiss me, Princess," he said, bending to her, and she put her hands along either side of his face and drew his mouth to hers, reveling in the sweet possession of his lips, sighing at the faint rasp of his skin against her skin.
"Touch me," he whispered, and her hands glided over him, over the hard planes of his arms and chest, the ridged muscles in his abdomen, and when finally she touched the heated velvet maleness of him, Blake drew in his breath and groaned his pleasure.
"Elena," he said, "Elena, mi corazon."
"Yes," she sighed, "yes, oh yes." I love you, she thought, and her heart felt as if it would burst with the terrible need to say the words aloud, to tell him what she had longed to tell him for so many months.
"Blake," she said, "listen..."
"Don't you ever stop talking?" he asked in a fierce whisper.
He kissed her then, kissed her mouth, her breasts, all the shadowed places that had hungered for him for so long.
"My beautiful Princess," he whispered. "My wife."
And then he gathered her to him and the world spun away.
* * *
When she woke, it was late. The room was dark, the sky visible through the window was a black abyss with starfire blazing in its far depths. She could hear the pounding of the ocean, smell the salt tang of the sea.
And she was alone.
She sat up quickly and switched on the light, blinking in the sudden glare. Her robe lay beside the bed where Blake had dropped it, and she reached for it and pulled it on. His clothing was gone—and so were the annulment papers.
"Oh, God!"
The cry burst from her throat, ripping the silent fabric of the night, and Elena buried her face in her hands. Blake was gone, and she'd never see him again. Her heart was empty—emptier than it had been before. How stupid she'd been to think she could store up memories against the future! She couldn't do that—nobody could. You could only hope that someday, the pain would ease that, someday, you could remember and smile instead of weep...
"What kind of town is this, anyway? There's not a store open."
Elena's hands fell from her face. "Blake?"
He grinned at her from the doorway. "It sure as hell had better be," he said. "If old Jeremy's got a key, he'll just have to hand it over."
Her eyes swept over him, from his bare feet—bare feet?—to his tousled hair.
"Where... where were you?"
He closed the door behind him.
"On the beach," he said, padding towards her. "How do you manage to look so beautiful in the middle of the night?" he asked and kissed her. “I didn't want to wake you." He sat down beside her and slipped his arm around her. "But I'm glad you're up. Maybe you can tell me where a guy can buy a bottle of champagne around here."
Elena shook her head. "At this hour?" She shook her head again. "Maybe I'm still half asleep. I don't underst..."
He kissed her again, a longer, deeper kiss than the first. "You're awake," he said solemnly. "Trust me."
"Yes, I... I..." She drew in her breath and then let it out. "When I woke up and you weren't here, I... I..."
"Were you upset?"
What was the sense in lying? "Yes," she said softly.
He smiled. “That’s good.”
Elena bristled. “It’s good that I was upset?”
“Damned right.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “It proves my point.”
“Which is?”
“Which is, that you love me.”
Her eyes widened. "My God, such ego!”
“Which is,” he said lazily, “a very good thing because I love you, too.”
“Just listen to yourself, Blake Rogan! Saying things like--like--You love me?”
“I love you, Princess. I adore you. You are my wife. You are my heart.”
Elena buried her face against his shoulder.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “We're not married anymore. You know that. You came all this way to make sure of that. Those annulment papers..."
"Yeah," he said thoughtfully, "I know. Signing them seemed like the right thing—I figured you wanted out and I owed it to you."
"I wanted out?" she said, looking up at him.
"But after I put them in the mail, I got to thinking." His eyes flickered over her. "I began to wonder if I'd been right about you all along. So I decided to come to Miami and find out." His lips curved in a quick smile. "And I did."
Elena looked at him blankly. "You did what? I don't know what you're talking about. You came for the papers.”
“Yes. I sure as hell did.”
“Well, then…”
"Hold out your hand," he said.
“Why?”
Blake rolled his eyes. “You’ll never be an obedient wife, will you?” He smiled and kissed her, his mouth gentle on hers. “Sweetheart. Please. Hold out your hand.
She did. He reached into his jacket pocket and filled her palm with tiny bits of charred paper.
"What is this?"
"Our annulment papers," he said smugly. Her bewildered eyes met his and he shrugged his shoulders. "I know I should have invited you to the ceremony, but..."
Elena felt a faint flicker of something in her heart. It was hope, but how could she let herself believe it was real?
"Have you gone crazy? How could you have burned those papers? Now we'll have to start from scratch!"
"No annulment."
The hope within her heart rose on feathered wings.
"What?"
Blake shrugged. "No annulment," he said as he stood up. "Would you like me to spell it out? Capital "n", small "o". Space. Small "a"..."
"What do you mean, no annulment? That's why you came here, remember? To make sure it had gone through."
He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside.
"We're going to have to do something about this problem of yours, Princess. No matter how many times I tell you to pay attention, y
ou just don't do it. I didn't come here for the annulment," he said while he undid his trouser belt. "I came for the annulment papers." He nodded to the bits of paper she still held in her hand. “And I sure as hell got 'em."
Elena shook her head. "I don't understand this at all," she said slowly.
Blake sighed, sat down next to her and drew her against him, safe and warm in the curve of his arm.
"I won't agree to an annulment," he said solemnly. "You're going to remain Mrs. Blake Rogan."
There was a wild pounding behind her ribs. Surely, her heart was going to leap from her chest. But when she spoke, Elena's voice was calm.
"Why would I do that?"
His arm tightened around her. "We've gone past the annulment stage, Princess. We've consummated our marriage any number of times."
"Blake," she said, "I don't know what you're up to, but..."
"I love you, Elena. I’ll always love you, even though you're the most contrary woman I've ever met."
"I'm not," she said quickly, and he laughed.
"See what I mean? But you'll learn, Princess. In fact," he said teasingly, "we'll keep the words "to obey" in the marriage ceremony. I know it's fashionable to leave them out today, but..."
“We most certainly will not.”
Blake laughed. “See what I mean?”
“And what marriage ceremony? You just said we were still married, and now..."
"Yes, well, better safe than sorry. That's what my mother always says, anyway. So, just in case there's any question about our marriage, we'll do it again." He brushed a kiss across her lips. "Do you think your father would come to Philadelphia for the wedding? We'll have to be there for a couple of months so my old man can brief me before I take over the European operations of the firm."
Elena blinked. "What firm?"
"Rogan International. I promised him I'd become director of the European branch. I can't wait to show you Paris in the spring and London at Christmas and..."
Elena let out her breath. "Blake Rogan," she said slowly, her eyes searching his face, “do I know you at all?”
“You know the only thing that matters, Princess. I love you with all my heart. I always will.”
She laughed. And she cried. And she tried to sound stern, but how could a woman sound stern when she was so incredibly happy?.
Sandra's Classics - The Bad Boys of Romance - Boxed Set Page 62