by Anne Fraser
“I see.” She hadn’t met the woman and Gina was already intimidated by her activities and accomplishments.
“This is my oldest brother, George. He’s married and has two children, both girls, with another baby on the way.”
“Boy or girl?”
“The last I knew, they refused to reveal the baby’s sex. I suspect it’s a boy because George seems to smirk more than usual these days.” He grinned. “He’s always been the doting papa, though, so I could be wrong.
“Pieter is next. He’s quite serious about a young lawyer friend, but they haven’t issued any formal announcements as yet.”
Which explained why the duty of marrying her had fallen on Ruark.
“I’m third in line and I’m sure you recognize me.”
She did, although he looked far more imposing in the photo than in real life.
“The twins are my sisters Beatrix and Mary. Bea is working on her Master’s degree in international finance and Mary is finishing her training as a physical therapist.” He grinned. “Much to my mother’s dismay, both of them are, as you say, footloose and fancy-free.”
“High-spirited, are they?”
“No, just not married. My mother wants more grandchildren.”
“But she has two already and another on the way.”
“My mother won’t be satisfied until we’ve all given her at least two. Have you ever considered how many you’d like to have?”
She grinned. “Grandchildren? I really haven’t thought about it.”
“Children,” he corrected.
“I always dreamed of having four.”
“Four?”
“Sure. Two boys, two girls, so each would have a playmate. But it really doesn’t matter how many or their sex, as long as they’re healthy. What about you?”
“I haven’t given the numbers much thought,” he admitted before his eyes took on a decided gleam. “I’m more interested in the activities that lead up to having kids.”
“Naturally,” she said dryly. Then, because the conversation seemed to be traveling in a direction she wasn’t prepared to go, she replaced the frame on his desk and returned to the sofa.
There, she kicked off her shoes, dug her toes into the plush carpeting, toyed with her charm bracelet and wondered how she’d manage to sleep with her husband lying beside her—a husband who wasn’t interested in a celibate relationship.
After yesterday’s stolen kiss in the exam room, she’d been torn between anticipation and dread about this moment. She’d asked for time, but she was only prolonging the inevitable. It wasn’t as if she had to manufacture sparks—she could feel them now and he wasn’t even within touching distance. And yet, because love wasn’t part of the formula of their marriage, wouldn’t getting to know each other before becoming intimate make the experience that much better?
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed how carefully he watched the announcers, as if engrossed in every word they said. Irrationally, his attitude irritated her. How could he be so calm and so focused on sports at a time like this?
“Do you play chess?” he asked abruptly.
“It’s been a long time,” she admitted, releasing her bracelet with a snap.
“Can I interest you in a game?”
She would have agreed to anything. “If you don’t mind a rusty opponent, I’d love one.”
He pulled a well-used set out of a cupboard and placed it on a small table in the far left corner. “Black or white?” he asked.
“White,” she answered.
“Black is my lucky color,” he said as he arranged his side of the board.
“White is mine, so look out.”
By the time Henri arrived with a tray of champagne, grapes, various cheeses and chocolate-dipped strawberries, Ruark had captured most of her pieces.
“Chess?” The chef frowned as he placed the snacks on the nearby coffee table. “On your wedding night?”
Ruark glared at the fellow and signaled for him to leave. He could think of other, far more pleasurable activities they could be doing without the chef’s well-meant interference, but he wasn’t about to explain there was method in his madness. After watching Gina fidget for the last twenty minutes, he had to do something to help her relax. While he would prefer a more personal technique, a game of chess would work nicely to divert attention away from her fears.
As Henri silently exited, Ruark captured her queen.
“Darn!” Gina muttered, a cute little wrinkle appearing on her forehead.
He grinned. “Don’t lose heart. You still have your king.”
While she contemplated her next move, Ruark watched her. The way she worried her lower lip with her teeth, drummed her fingers on the tabletop while touching the heads of her pieces with the other, amused him. She seemed determined not to let him win, or at least not win easily. True, she was a little rusty, as she’d claimed, but if they played on a regular basis, it wouldn’t be long before she became a formidable opponent.
A few moves later, he pronounced, “Checkmate,” and the game was over.
Gina leaned back in her chair. “I demand a rematch.”
“OK, but first Henri’s refreshments are waiting.” He eyed the platter. “Good thing, because I’m starved.”
He probably wouldn’t have been if he’d taken time for the light meal Henri had prepared before the ceremony, but after reading the latest news from Marestonia on the Internet, food had been the least of his worries. Making their marriage official had been all he’d cared about. He’d been ninety-nine percent sure Gina wouldn’t cry off, but that final one percentage point had nagged at him until he’d seen her at the back of the chapel.
He’d never known relief like at that moment.
He retrieved the champagne and handed a glass to Gina. “How about a strawberry?”
“I’d love one.” She bit into the fruit he offered.
“You really don’t play all that badly,” he said, taking a strawberry for himself. “Did your father teach you?”
“Yes, although I’m not doing justice to his instructions.” She chuckled. “When I said I was rusty, I didn’t know I was this awful. I’m rather embarrassed.”
“Would you rather try your luck at something else? Cards, backgammon, poker?” Oh, the possibilities of poker…
“I prefer chess, unless you’re tired of my novice skills.”
He grinned. “As long as I win, I don’t mind.”
Two games later, with the food nearly gone and the wins all Ruark’s, Gina yawned. “One more match,” she begged.
He shook his head, quite aware of his wife’s reluctance to go upstairs. “You’re half-asleep. You can see if you can best me tomorrow.” He tugged her to her feet. “Run along. I’ll be there shortly.”
She nodded, then padded from the room as her dress swooshed gently with each step. After seeing her only in shapeless scrub suits, the moment she’d walked into the chapel wearing a dress that clung to her slight curves and revealed a pair of shapely legs, he’d been stunned. His imagination definitely hadn’t done her justice. And knowing that, he’d been hard pressed not to stare at her like a besotted fool.
He downed the last of the champagne, wishing he’d imbibed enough to fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. How would he manage to keep his hands to himself as promised, when her light, floral scent tantalized him and her softness called his name?
Fifteen minutes later, after stalling as long as he could, he flicked off the light switches and trudged upstairs in a state of combined anticipation and frustrated dread.
In his room, he found Gina already in his four-poster bed, the sheet pulled to her waist. She’d left the bedside lamp on for him—such a wifely act—and he caught a glimpse of her negligee’s lacy bodice and the bare skin above it.
Determined to act naturally in spite of his body’s immediate response, he stripped down to his shorts, flicked off the light, then slid into bed.
For several moments, he lay ther
e, as stiff as a board, aware of Gina doing the same, before he reached a decision.
He rolled toward her, raised himself on one elbow and said, “Gina?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded tentative.
“You were beautiful tonight.”
He heard the smile in her voice. “Thank you. You were quite handsome and dashing yourself.”
He scooted closer and felt tension radiating off her. “If you don’t relax, you’ll wake up stiff and sore in the morning.”
Her soft sigh made him smile. “Probably.”
“So, in the interests of our health…” In a lightning-fast move, he slid one arm under her neck and positioned her against him as he settled onto his back.
She gasped, one hand splayed across his chest. “What…what are you doing?”
He bussed her cheek. “Holding my wife so we can both sleep. Goodnight, Gina.”
“Goodnight, Ruark.”
For the next few minutes, he waited for a sign to indicate she’d fallen asleep, but none came. Her breathing hadn’t changed and she wiggled every so often as if to find a comfortable position.
Her hand stroked his abdominal muscles and he gritted his teeth in a vain attempt to maintain control. What in the world had he been thinking? This whole exercise was to allow her to adjust to being in his bed, not drive him over the edge with desire.
As Ruark lay beside her, his promise warred with his hormones, but he forced himself to freeze. Although he wanted to bury himself inside her, he wouldn’t because he couldn’t bear to see the wounded look in her eyes if he did. He’d made a vow to her and pride demanded he honor it.
“Ruark?” she asked softly.
“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse.
“Did we do the right thing?”
Concentrating on holding his body in check, he didn’t follow her question. “With what?”
“Getting married. Especially under our circumstances. Was it the right thing to do?”
Aware of her body plastered against his and the frustration he was suffering, he wondered that himself. No, he decided. Getting married wasn’t the problem. Giving her time to adjust to the concept of having a husband and everything it entailed was.
He couldn’t complain, though, because he’d brought this on himself with his momentary lapse into chivalry!
“It was.” He was certain.
“Convince me,” she said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RUARK stilled. “Convince you?” he echoed.
She shifted her position until she was half-draped across his body and one smooth leg had found its way between his. “Yes.”
He didn’t want to misunderstand and start something he wouldn’t be allowed to finish, so he restated her request. “You want me to convince you that we did the right thing by getting married.”
“The circumstances were rather unusual,” she pointed out. “I know we married out of duty, for the good of the people in two countries, but I just want some reassurance the result wasn’t a mistake.”
His confused fog lifted. “You mean, a mistake for us. Personally.”
“Yeah.”
She obviously wasn’t able to put her fears into words or was too afraid of his answer if she did. Oh, he knew what she wanted to hear—it was the same thing every woman wanted. They expected flowery speeches and the I-can’t-live-without-you-because-I-love-you remarks, but he owed her complete honesty. At this point, he certainly couldn’t profess to love her and probably never would. Love, as far as he was concerned, was simply a euphemism for lust, and he had plenty of that where she was concerned.
“We did what we had to do,” he stated firmly. “A lot of people will benefit from this marriage, true. We knew that going into it. But we’re benefitting, too.”
She didn’t comment, but he sensed she was listening carefully. “We each have someone to share our lives with,” he said simply. “Someone who’ll listen and be supportive, someone to come home to at night.”
Realizing how his description could also apply to a pet, which hadn’t been his intention, he grinned and tried to lighten the mood. “Someone who prefers white cake and leaves all the chocolate for me.”
She chuckled. “If you say so.”
“Someone I can beat at chess.”
“Give me a few weeks to practice and then we’ll see who beats who,” she said without heat.
“Regardless of who wins, chess is something enjoyable we can do together. Best of all, we won’t have to find a date ever again, much less suffer through the rejections and heartbreaks.”
She laughed. “You? Rejected? Heartbroken? Oh, please. I’m sure it was the other way around.”
“Au contraire.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He didn’t, but felt he should. Perhaps once he explained, Gina would understand why he held the opinions he did. “This is ancient history, mind you.”
“How ancient?”
He shrugged. “Seven, eight years, but it started long before then. Having a title gets in the way of a relationship. It’s tough to find a woman who doesn’t have an agenda or who can look past my heritage to the man underneath. I learned to be cautious.”
“Royalty 101?”
“Something like that.”
“But someone slipped past your defenses.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his chin. “I met this woman during my residency. To me, Grace was perfect. I loved her and she loved me. Or so she claimed.”
“Claimed?”
“We dated for several months. One day she said she loved me, but two weeks later someone better came along, and she left.”
“Someone better? How is that possible? You’re a prince, for heaven’s sake.”
He grinned. “Spoken like a loyal wife. Anyway, her ‘someone better’ was a movie producer who could advance her career more than a prince who practically lived at the hospital. It was my own fault because I should have seen it coming.”
“I didn’t realize you can predict events.”
“The signs were in plain sight, but I ignored them. You see, we didn’t have anything in common. Other than attending charity events or her movie opening nights, we led separate lives.”
“Have you seen her lately?”
“No. Last I heard, she was on her third marriage and still waiting for her big break.”
Gina fell silent as she searched for something appropriate to say. Discussing his former love life while he was in bed with her could be considered tacky, but sometimes it was easier to reveal things in the dead of night rather than in the light of day. In any case, hearing of his experiences explained so much. Now Gina understood why he had such a cynical view about love, why he continued to stress the importance of having mutual interests, of being companions, of sharing a life.
She snuggled against him. “I wish I could feel sorry for this Grace person, but I can’t. Anyway, enough about her. I want to hear more about our personal benefits.”
“More personal benefits. OK, let me think. Here’s one. I don’t have to worry about choosing the wrong tie because you’ll tell me what matches and what doesn’t. And I’ll reciprocate when you choose the wrong earrings for your dress.”
“Fair enough. What else?”
“You have a French chef preparing the most delectable meals on this side of the Mississippi while I won’t have to argue with Henri over the menus any longer.”
“Something’s not quite right with that one, but I’ll let it slide,” she said dryly, smiling. “Is that all you have?”
“Well…we can share transportation to and from work to save on energy costs,” he finished brightly.
“Now you’re reaching.”
“Yes, but I’m saving the best for last.” He moved his head to whisper in her ear. “I find you extremely, extremely beautiful, Gina.” His voice became rougher, almost raspy, as if he was using all of his energy to keep from acting on that attraction. “And you’re my wife,” he finished on a distinct note of pos
sessiveness.
She, on the other hand, was grateful the room was too dark for him to see her grinning like an idiot. “I’m flattered.”
She felt his shrug. “It’s the truth.”
“In that case…for the record…the feeling is mutual.” There, she’d said it! At the same time, though, she sensed his appeal went beyond his handsome face and his ability to turn her inside out with a mere kiss. She may not have known him for long, but she’d caught glimpses of his character that were as much if not more alluring.
She may not appreciate being married out of duty, but once she’d gotten past the shock and analyzed his motives, his willingness to place other people’s needs above his own—his unselfishness—she’d been impressed. And when he’d stood behind her with her incident with Frank Horton, when he’d done all he could to give her a wedding ceremony she’d never forget, how could she not be attracted to him on more than a physical level?
The question was, what should she do about it? Postpone the inevitable, or allow her wedding day—and night—to be everything it should be? What had he said? People wouldn’t care how their romance started, only how it ended?
Why couldn’t she heed Henri’s advice to enjoy each other? Considering their shared physical attraction, their joining was as inevitable as the sun rising and setting.
“We’ll only have one wedding night,” she said, hoping he’d hear the invitation in her voice.
Obviously he had, because he froze. “True,” he admitted. “But you wanted to wait.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Once we start, there’s no going back,” he warned.
“I know. I won’t regret this in the morning,” she stated firmly, but he still didn’t move. “If you’re afraid I’ve drunk too much champagne and don’t know what I’m saying, rest easy. I only had one glass.”
Determined to convince him of her sincerity, she reached up to cup the side of his face. “You said we’d play this part of our marriage by ear. Well, I heard the music and now I’m ready to dance.”
In an instant he’d reversed positions until she was half-undereath him. She sensed rather than saw him lower his head until his lips touched her cheek. Slowly, deliberately, provocatively, he nibbled his way to her ear and trailed his lips down her neck until he reached her collarbone. “Shall we tango…or waltz?” he mumbled against her skin.