by Robyn Donald
Just as amazing was that she hadn’t thought of Felipe once.
For the first time she felt well and truly loved in every respect.
Except the emotional, she realised as days and nights passed in a voluptuous feast for all her senses—a dazzling, mind-blowing parade of sensuousness in which Kelt taught her just how wonderful making love could be.
Each day she fell deeper and deeper into love—and knew with a hopeless hunger that Kelt didn’t love her. Although he showed her he could be tender and generous as well as passionate and demanding, she sensed an unbridged distance between them.
She didn’t ask for anything more; she even tried to convince herself that she was well content. But as the summer lazed on, she found herself wondering if perhaps—just perhaps—they might some time cross the invisible, unspoken boundaries they’d set on their affair.
Daydreaming again…
One evening, coming back into the bay after a picnic on a tiny offshore island, he asked, ‘It’s over six weeks since you had that bout of fever.’
Hani trailed her hand in the water and frowned as she counted the days. ‘So it is.’ She watched him rowing the old wooden dinghy, letting her eyes drift meaningfully over his shoulders, the muscles bunching with each smooth flick of the oars. ‘I’ve been occupied with other things,’ she said sweetly, and flicked some water his way.
He grinned. ‘Mind over matter?’
‘Or the placebo effect.’
He laughed, his eyes gleaming. ‘Perhaps there’s something to it. We could get all scientific about this; I have to go away in three days’ time, so we could see whether you keep count of the time while I’m away.’
Lost in the wonder of being his lover, Hani had to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking him where he was going.
‘I’ll be away about ten days,’ he said calmly. ‘I’d ask you to come with me—’
Before he could come up with whatever excuse, she shook her head and interrupted. ‘No.’ Her heart twisted. Not ever. She hurried on, ‘As for the fever, I think it’s gone. I feel—strong, somehow. Good.’
The dinghy grounded on the sand and things went on exactly the same—at least, that was what Hani told herself. But for the three days she found herself tensing whenever he came, almost as though she had to extract every ounce of pleasure, commit to memory every tiny alteration in his deep voice, the way his smile melted her bones—even the exact shade of his eyes, so close to the border between blue and steel-grey that it was impossible to state categorically what colour they were…
And that, she thought robustly, was stupid. He’d only be away for a week and a half.
The days dragged. Oh, she had the delicious memories of the night before he’d left when he’d made love to her as though—as though he wasn’t coming back, she thought, trying to laugh at herself.
But memories weren’t enough. She wanted Kelt. No, worse than that—she needed him.
The night before he was due back restlessness and an oppressive cloud of foreboding drove her to seek refuge from her own thoughts and longings, and she sat with Gabby in her lap—a bigger and more sturdy puppy now, showing every sign of developing a strong character. The soft, warm weight comforted her a little, but she longed to see Kelt again, to tell him…what?
I love you? ‘Not likely,’ she said forlornly, and got up and turned off the television.
Later, she heard the low sound of a car come down the hill. She began to shake, then got to her feet and walked carefully to the door, opening it as Kelt raised his hand to knock.
His face was drawn, but he was smiling. Every cell in her body recognised him with joyous outcry. Holding out her hands, she drew him in with her and lifted her face in mute invitation.
He kissed her with a famished intensity that banished every last inhibition. When at last he lifted his head, she said, ‘You were away nine days, eleven hours and forty-three minutes.’
‘I know.’ His eyes gleamed with sensuous amusement. ‘And every one of them dragged.’
‘I know.’ She laughed softly, huskily, and kissed his throat. ‘Food first?’
Or do you want to go straight to bed?
Her unspoken question astonished her. How had she summoned the courage to be so—so brazen?
A darting look up from beneath her lashes revealed the strong framework of his face, as though the tanned skin had tightened over it.
And his voice was raw when he said, ‘If you keep that up we won’t make it to the bed.’
Boldly she lifted her head and kissed his chiselled mouth, then outlined it with the tip of her tongue. His heart thudded against her, strong and fast. Heat bloomed her skin, and she could have breathed in the faint, elusive male scent of him, tangy and arousing, for the rest of her life.
‘That would probably shock Gabby,’ she murmured. And added, because she had to, ‘You guessed I’d had a bad experience. It’s—finished with, Kelt. I’m not afraid any more.’
He looked down at her, eyes narrowed into blazing slits, so piercing she could hardly meet his gaze. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Completely sure.’ And to seal it she initiated another kiss, one that was frankly voracious, showing him just how much she wanted him.
This time he returned it—with interest—before sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her once more into the bedroom.
This time—oh, this time there was none of the practised gentleness she’d come to expect. Kelt made love to her as though he’d spent just as many lonely night hours longing for her as she had for him, as though they were lovers separated by years that had only whetted their desire, once more together.
Glorying in his ardour, she allowed her needs and desires free rein, responding to each kindling caress, each sensuously tormenting kiss, with everything she was, everything she felt.
And although their lovemaking was fast and fierce, when that moment of release came again it threw her even higher as wave after wave of pleasure surged through her, sending her to that rapturous place where desire and satisfaction melded into mutual bliss.
Much later, safe in his arms, she accepted that she loved him. And that it didn’t matter. The sheer grandeur of her feelings for him outweighed the knowledge of pain to come, when she left him.
She murmured, ‘You were away too long.’
‘I won’t need to go back to Carathia for a while,’ he said calmly.
‘Carathia?’ She yawned. ‘Isn’t that a little country on the edge of the Adriatic? What were you doing there?’
‘I was there on business, but in the end I helped my brother put down a rebellion,’ he said dryly.
Love-dazed, her tired mind barely registered the words, but when they sank in she sat up and stared down at him, her heart shaking inside her at the sight of him, long and lean and tanned against the white sheets.
He was smiling, without humour, and his eyes were sombre.
‘What? What did you say?’ she spluttered.
‘My brother is the ruler of Carathia.’ His expression hardened. ‘I went there because there was a spot of bother, and he needed me.’ He smiled and pulled her down again, kissing the swell of her breast. ‘Mmm,’ he murmured against her skin, ‘you smell delicious. I sometimes think it’s what I miss most about you.’
Little tremors of sensation raced through her, urgently and pleading. Ignoring them, she whispered, ‘What do you mean—the ruler?’
The children on the beach had called Kelt the Duke, and talked of a grandmother who wore a crown. Oh, God, why hadn’t she listened? Why hadn’t she asked?
Kelt turned her face up so that he could see it, and a frown drew his black brows together. ‘My brother, Gerd, is the new Grand Duke of Carathia.’
Dreams Hani hadn’t even recognised crashed around her. Unbeknown to herself she must have been fantasising—hoping?—that somehow, she might be able to forge some sort of connection with Kelt. That with him she’d be able to make a life here in this enchanted place.
That perhaps there might be a future for them if she could trust him enough to be able to tell him about herself and her past.
‘I didn’t know,’ she said in a stunned voice. ‘No one told me.’ No one but the children…
‘Most people around here are aware of it; my grandparents used to come and stay here on occasion, and my brother and I spent all our holidays here.’ He finished coolly, ‘It’s no big deal.’
Hani turned to hide her head in his chest. His casual words had killed every inchoate, wordless hope. She didn’t dare have any sort of relationship with a man whose wealth and good looks and ancient heritage made him food for gossip mills. Even as his mistress she’d shame him—she cringed, thinking of the way the tabloids would treat her reappearance.
Kelt asked, ‘What is it? Tell me.’
‘I didn’t know,’ she said faintly. And because she couldn’t tell him what that knowledge had done to her, she asked, ‘But why do you live here—in New Zealand?’
He shrugged, and his arms tightened around her. She lay with her face against his heart, listening to the slowing beat, inhaling his beloved scent, and felt her world crumble around her again, her splintered hopes painfully stabbing her.
‘It’s no big deal,’ he said again casually. ‘Our grandparents met while my grandmother was fighting a nasty little rebellion amongst the mountain people, one fomented by her sister. Our grandfather was a New Zealander, and he saved her life in an ambush. Kiwinui was his heritage, just as it’s been mine. They were married, and had one son. Our mother was a Greek princess. We spent quite a lot of time here as children. My brother has always known he’d be Grand Duke one day. I’ve always preferred New Zealand.’
Hani sensed that he wasn’t telling her everything, but she didn’t dare speak. Instead she nodded, letting loose a swathe of black hair across his skin. Their hips met, moved together with sensuous languor, and she felt him stir against her.
Tomorrow, she thought weakly. She would steal one more night of paradise in his arms, and tomorrow she’d tell him that it was over.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HANI woke, to find Kelt, fully clothed, bending over her. She smiled and he bent and kissed her.
Against his lips she murmured, ‘What…?’
‘I am expecting a call from Gerd,’ he told her. Then he smiled, and said in a warmer voice, ‘Go back to sleep.’
But by then she’d remembered, and her eyes were agonised when he turned and walked out of the door into the half-light of dawn.
When the sound of his vehicle had died away she got up and put Gabby outside. A sliver of golden light against the horizon heralded another summer day, but in her heart it would always be winter.
Dragging her footsteps like an old woman, she walked into the bedroom, Gabby gambolling at her heels. She had to get out of here, before he came back. She’d take the car into Kaitake and catch a bus to—to anywhere. No, to Auckland, because it was big enough to get lost in. She’d leave Gabby with plenty of water and food and ring tonight to make sure they knew she was there. She wasn’t worried about getting Kelt; Arthur answered the phone at the homestead.
She’d leave Kelt a note. Feverishly she started composing it in her mind: It’s been great, but I have to go—thank you so much for all you’ve done for me. Please look after Gabby for me…
He’d never know just how much he had done for her. Making love with him had wiped the tainted memories of the past, leaving her whole again and stronger than she’d ever been.
‘No,’ she said out loud, startling herself. ‘No, he deserves better than a stupid note.’
Last time she’d run without telling anyone it had been for her life. This time it would be sheer cowardice. She wouldn’t leave Kelt without an explanation of why she had to go. Although it would be savagely painful and embarrassing to tell him that she suspected she was falling in love with him, she could at least salvage some sort of honour.
By lunchtime her suitcase was packed and she’d rung for the bus timetable, and was taking the coach that came through later in the afternoon.
A knock on the door froze her into place. She didn’t need Gabby’s happy little greeting to tell her who it was. I’m not ready, she thought, panic-stricken, knowing she’d never be ready.
Dragging a deep breath into her compressed lungs, she came out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her.
Gabby was prancing around the door, her tail wagging. White-faced, Hani opened the door to Kelt, who took one look at her and demanded, ‘What the hell is the matter?’
Before she had time to think, she blurted, ‘I have something to tell you.’
His eyes hardened, but he came in and closed the door behind him. ‘Are you sure? It’s early days yet, but don’t worry. We’ll get married.’
Hani’s heart gave a great leap, then settled like a lead weight in her chest. Retreating a few paces, she said, ‘I’m not pregnant.’ Pain stabbed her, sharp and brutal.
His brows drew together and she saw the warrior, angular and relentless. ‘All right, what is it?’
‘I’ll be leaving soon,’ she said quietly. ‘I just wanted you to know that you’ve made me very happy and I’ll always remember you.’
His eyes narrowed. In a silky voice he said, ‘If that’s so, why are you going? And before you say anything, I know you love me, so it has to be something else.’
Hani stared at him. ‘How arrogant you are,’ she said, but the spark had gone from her voice and she had to force herself to meet that merciless gaze. ‘We made love, that’s all. There’s a difference.’
A cold kick of fear silenced her as she watched his hands clench into fists by his sides. ‘Is that all it was?’ he asked in a voice like molten metal. He smiled, and came towards her, and for the first time ever she felt truly afraid of him.
Yet she didn’t flinch when he raised his hands and his fingers settled gently around the golden column of her throat. He was so close she could see the pulse beating in his jaw, smell the hot, primal scent that was his alone; if she lifted the hand that itched to move of its own accord, she’d feel the heat of his fine-grained skin against her fingertips.
And she’d melt in abject surrender.
He said softly, ‘How could it be so unimportant when it made you cry? That first night—you thought I was asleep, but I heard you, felt the hot tears soak into my skin, and I knew then that whatever you felt for me wasn’t something you’d ever forget.’
Do it now. Make it clear. Head held high, she met his narrowed gaze and said coolly, ‘I had issues from the past. You showed me how unimportant they were. I’ll always be grateful to you for that.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ he said between his teeth. ‘Tell me the truth, Hannah.’
If she did he’d despise her. Dumbly she stared up into icy eyes.
His fingers smoothed over the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her throat, then he dropped his hands and stepped back, smiling without humour. ‘So you’ve had your past issues—’he said the words with caustic emphasis ‘—resolved by extremely good sex, and now you’re leaving, no bones broken, no hearts cracked.’
Instantly Hani felt cold, abandoned. She owed him the truth. In a low, shamed voice, she said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t what I thought you were, an ordinary New Zealand farmer—?’
‘I am a New Zealand farmer—’
‘You’re much more than that. Your grandmother is a grand duchess, and you are not only rich, you’re also hugely powerful. You must have known I didn’t know.’
‘Oddly enough,’ he said in a caustic voice, ‘I found your attitude interesting, and very refreshing. But what difference does any of that make?’
She braced herself. ‘A lot. You really don’t know anything about me. I’m afraid I’ve lied to you again and again.’ It took all of her courage to go on, but she had to make him understand. ‘Starting with my name. It’s neither Hannah nor Honey. Until six years ago I was Hani de Courteville, and my brother was R
afiq de Courteville, the ruler of Moraze.’
‘Moraze?’ She watched as his keen mind processed the information and slotted it into place. His lashes drooped. ‘Go on.’
Everything about him—tone, stance, the formidable intensity of his gaze—was intimidating, but he didn’t seem shocked. In fact, she thought wonderingly, her revelation seemed to have confirmed something he’d already suspected.
A small warmth of hope gave her the impetus to continue.
‘I spent my childhood there, and went to boarding-school in England, and then to a French university. I was eighteen, and too young—too stupid—to be let loose.’ She took another agonising breath. ‘My brother organised a chaperone-cum-companion for me, who introduced me to a man called Felipe Gastano. He said he was a French count; later I found out that it was his half-brother who had been born to the title. Unfortunately the brother died conveniently from a drug overdose not long before I met Gastano.’
‘Keep going,’ Kelt ordered, his gaze never wavering.
She looked down at her hands. The knuckles were white and she was holding herself so stiffly her spine ached. ‘He was enormous fun and possessed great charm. I won’t bore you with details of our affair; it began with me convinced I had found the man I wanted to marry, and ended when I tried to commit suicide, and only failed by good luck. Or bad luck, as I thought it at the time.’
He said something in a lethal voice, then in a totally different tone, ‘My poor girl.’ And then his voice changed. ‘So why do you plan to leave?’
She could have held out against his anger; that flash of tenderness struck home like an arrow.
In a thin thread of a voice Hani said, ‘Felipe introduced me to drugs. I know now that he did it quite deliberately. By the time I decided to commit suicide I was an addict and in desperate trouble.’ She didn’t dare look at him. ‘Felipe intended to take over Moraze and use it as a depot to ship drugs to Europe.’
‘How?’ Kelt demanded forcefully. ‘Your brother would never have allowed that.’
‘I was the lever, the hold Felipe would have had over Rafiq. And he—Rafiq—was the lever Felipe used on me.’