The Throne He Must Take

by Chantelle Shaw

  He shoved the thought away. There would be a time of reckoning, when undoubtedly he would despise himself for his weakness for this woman with her sweet smile and her innocent belief that there was anything good about him. But for now he could fool himself that maybe she was right. And besides, he wanted her too badly to care about tomorrow.

  His hunger for Holly bordered on the obsessional, Jarek acknowledged, but that did not make him forget that what she required from him was patience.

  He stretched out on top of her and propped himself up on his forearms to take his weight. Her skin was satin-smooth, and she gave a little shiver when his rough chest hair scraped over her breasts. He laughed softly against her lips before he kissed her mouth, and as their breath mingled he pressed forward so that his hard length was there, at her opening.

  ‘Stop me if it hurts,’ he said roughly.

  ‘If you stop I think I’ll die,’ she muttered. ‘Please, Jarek, now.’

  He eased further forward, entering her slowly to allow her internal muscles time to stretch around him. Her soft moan made him halt, but when he tried to withdraw she wrapped her legs around his back and urged him deeper inside her.

  ‘It’s fine...really,’ she assured him. ‘Actually, it’s more than fine.’

  She smiled, and that ache in his chest got a whole lot worse. He gathered her close and pushed deeper, taking her with exquisite care, making her his. He set a rhythm, slow at first, increasing in pace when she lifted her hips to meet him.

  It couldn’t last. He had wanted her for so long—a lifetime, it seemed—and the pressure inside him built with every smooth thrust he made into her. But his concern that it might be too much for her made him restrain his passion as he concentrated on giving Holly pleasure. With each steady stroke he took her higher, and he could tell from her quickened breathing that she was nearing the edge.

  ‘Jarek...’ She dug her fingernails into his buttocks and moved sensuously against him, urging him in a husky voice to go faster, deeper.

  ‘I’m trying to be careful,’ he muttered, struggling to hold back a surge of rampant need when she wriggled experimentally beneath him.

  He felt her smile against his cheek. ‘I know, and I love you for it. But I promise you’re not hurting me.’

  Her words jolted through Jarek. He wondered if she was aware of what she had said. What did love have to do with him? It was an emotion he viewed with deep mistrust. As for not hurting Holly... He cursed silently, because he knew with grim certainty that he would hurt her. It was in his nature. He should never have allowed things to get this far, but now it was too late.

  ‘You can let go,’ she whispered.

  And then it really was too late for him to maintain any kind of control. The heat inside him became a furnace as he clamped his hands on her hips and his next thrust threw them both into the fire. She arched beneath him and gave a startled cry as her body shook and she convulsed around him. Jarek would have liked to take her high again, but for the first time in his life he was overwhelmed by the wildfire that ripped through him, and with a savage groan he came, hot and hard, and felt the burn of it right down to his soul.

  After a few moments he lifted himself off her with a reluctance that worried him. He needed to regroup his thoughts and re-establish his boundaries. That word love had thrown him, and he couldn’t understand why he was still in bed with her when his common sense told him to get the hell out of her room and her life.

  But Holly seemed unaware of his inner turmoil and snuggled up to him. For a second Jarek froze. He did not do cuddling. So why did he draw her against his side and turn his head to breathe in the fragrance of her hair when she rested her head on his shoulder?

  She sighed softly and he tensed, hoping she was not about to declare that she was in love with him, which would embarrass both of them. Obviously he hoped she wouldn’t do that, he told himself.

  ‘So that’s what all the fuss is about,’ she murmured. ‘I never knew...’

  He looked at her questioningly. ‘Seriously? That was your first orgasm?’ He’d suspected, but hearing her say it filled him with a possessiveness that was downright dangerous.

  ‘First two orgasms, as it happens. It’s nice to know that the press are right about some things.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, you are often described in the tabloids as a stud.’ She gave him an innocent smile while devilment danced in her eyes. ‘Now I have proof that it’s true.’

  For a few seconds he stared at her, and the tight cords that had been lashed around his heart since the grim days of what should have been his childhood in Sarajevo loosened a fraction. Slowly a grin spread over Jarek’s face, and for the first time that he could remember he laughed from deep in his gut—a genuine laugh rather than the sardonic humour he was renowned for on the social circuit of Mayfair, or Monte Carlo, or any of the other places where the rich and bored played.

  He had never met a woman who made him laugh the way Holly did, with her dry wit and her refusal to be impressed by him. He was fascinated by the dimples that appeared at the corners of her mouth when she smiled, but he noted too the faint wariness in her dark eyes, and he realised that her teasing had been to disguise her uncertainty.

  ‘Was it okay for you?’ Colour flared on her cheeks. ‘I mean...maybe sex is better with other women who don’t have my...my problem.’

  That was when Jarek knew he was in trouble. When that empty vessel in his chest that had never given even a slight twinge before contracted with pain. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to control emotions that were in free-fall. Her hair felt like silk when he slid his hand around her nape and tilted her face to him.

  ‘It was the best with you, angel-face,’ he assured her gently. ‘So perfect, in fact, that when you are ready I think we will have to do it again.’

  ‘I’m ready now,’ she whispered against his mouth.

  And Jarek couldn’t help himself. He kissed her and the world went up in flames.

  * * *

  In paradise it was easy for Holly to pretend that the world did not exist. For a whole week she and Jarek had been cocooned from reality on Paradis sur Terre, and in that time they had barely been apart—or out of bed, she thought guiltily.

  Making love with him had been a revelation, and under his patient tutelage she had learned that her body was capable of experiencing the most intense and indescribable pleasure. When she had explained that she did not need to use her dilators if she was having sex regularly he’d grinned, and assured her that they must heed medical advice and make love as often as possible.

  ‘I’m following doctor’s orders,’ he said every time he reached for her in the big bed they shared, or tumbled her down onto the sand and made love to her with fierce passion coupled with exquisite tenderness while the waves running up the shore lapped around them.

  And when they weren’t consumed by their wild hunger for each other, which seemed to grow stronger every day, they talked.

  At the beginning of the week Jarek had flown by helicopter to Mahe, the largest island in the Seychelles, and at a private clinic had met a representative of Vostov’s National Council and given a DNA sample which might prove if he was the sole surviving male member of the House of Karadjvic.

  ‘When will you have the result of the test?’ Holly had asked when he had returned to the island, which she now realised really was a hideaway. No one—not even Vostov’s Council, and certainly not the media—knew Jarek’s exact location.

  ‘It could take as long as two weeks. The standard paternity test which would show if Prince Goran was my father isn’t possible because he is dead. A mouth swab is the usual method of collecting a sample. But it is possible to retrieve DNA from items used by a deceased person. Unfortunately the palace in Vostov was ransacked during the war, and most of the royal family’s personal possessions were destroyed—which is why there are no photographs of the Prince and Princess and their children,’ Jarek said heavily. ‘However, a
monogramed hairbrush which belonged to Prince Goran is being analysed, and it’s hoped that enough DNA can be obtained to carry out a paternity test.’

  ‘It sounds like something out of a spy novel,’ Holly had murmured. ‘So nothing exists that might trigger your memories of early childhood? That’s a pity. Sometimes seeing an object—in your case perhaps a favourite toy—might be a reminder of the past.’

  ‘In my dreams I often see a rocking horse,’ Jarek had said slowly. ‘But I don’t know if it ever existed or if it’s something I’ve imagined.’ He’d hesitated. ‘Sometimes in the same dream I sense the presence of a woman, although I can’t see her. I think she might be my mother.’

  Encouraged that Jarek had some vague memories, albeit in his dreams, Holly had planned various strategies which might help him to overcome his amnesia. But at the first session he had paced restlessly around the room and become increasingly frustrated when questions designed to prompt his memory had no effect.

  ‘Why don’t you start by telling me about the period of your childhood that you do remember, when you were at the orphanage in Sarajevo?’ she suggested.

  ‘You don’t want to hear about the things I saw there,’ he’d growled. ‘Let’s just say that war isn’t pretty.’

  ‘I’ve never thought it was, but you don’t need to protect me,’ she’d said gently. ‘Not talking about the horrors you witnessed won’t make the memories go away. You have to take the first step to unlocking the areas of your mind that you have been hiding from for years.’

  He had stared at her for a long time, his jaw clenched, and with a bleakness in his blue eyes that had made her want to wrap her arms around him and take away his pain. But neither of the two distinct sides of their relationship allowed her to comfort him, Holly reminded herself. They were lovers—for now—and she’d had sex with him. She was also here as his private psychotherapist and her role was to listen and try to help him, not to fall ever deeper in love with him.

  ‘All right—you win. I’ll bloody well talk,’ he’d said harshly. ‘But not here.’ He’d grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘If you want to know what it was like in Sarajevo I’ll tell you.’

  And he had, while they’d walked on the beach. He’d told her how he had been scared and confused when he’d found himself in the orphanage, with no memories of his life before then. He’d told her about his nightmares and his illogical terror of travelling in cars. He had even admitted that ‘Tarik’ was not a boy he had known at the orphanage.

  ‘I have no idea why in my nightmares I am shouting for Tarik, but I’m certain that the name is linked in some way to my amnesia.’

  They had walked and walked on the soft white sand, with the crystal-clear sea sparkling and the sun blazing down from an azure sky. On an island called heaven Jarek had told Holly about hell.

  His childhood memories of a war-ravaged city were the stuff of nightmares, and her heart ached for the scared, abandoned boy he had been in Sarajevo. It ached even more for the man she had fallen in love with, who was haunted by the faceless ghosts from his past.

  Finally he had stopped talking, and on the secret beach where she had run from him on her first night on the island he had drawn her into his arms and they’d watched the sun turn into a giant ball of fire that sank slowly into the sea.

  Beneath a bejewelled sky of pink and gold he had undressed her, then himself, before he’d lain her down on the sun lounger and worshipped her with his hands and lips, with his mouth on her breasts and at the slick core of her. The velvet dusk had closed around them and the cicadas’ song had carried on the warm breeze.

  ‘You can let go now,’ Holly had whispered.

  And with a groan torn from deep in his chest he had spilled into her and in the sweet aftermath of their passion held her close as if he would never let her go.

  Which, of course, was an illusion brought about by her wishful thinking—as Holly kept reminding herself in the following days, when it had felt as though there was only her and Jarek and an island called paradise. One day soon the outside world would intrude on her fantasy that this time with him would last for ever...

  * * *

  The end began on a day towards the end of their second week.

  ‘We’ll take the boat out,’ Jarek said when they were sitting on the veranda, finishing a very late breakfast after they had spent most of the morning in bed. ‘We’ll sail around the headland to a cove which is only accessible by boat. You mentioned that you wished you could see turtles, so I asked Rani if they nest on the island. He told me that turtles go to the cove to lay their eggs in the daytime, rather than at night, because the beach is so secluded and safe. With luck we might spot them.’

  ‘That would be lovely.’ Holly hesitated. ‘I take it you haven’t heard from the DNA testing clinic?’

  ‘No.’ Jarek frowned. ‘But a story has been leaked to the media that “an unnamed male” is undergoing checks that might prove he is the heir to Vostov’s throne, and several newspapers are speculating on who it might be. Suggestions include a famous European football player and an American pop star,’ he said drily. ‘There has also been a poll in Vostov which shows that the majority of the Vostovian people are in favour of restoring a constitutional monarchy if it is proved that Prince Goran’s son and heir is alive.’

  ‘How do you feel about that?’ she asked quietly.

  He ran his hand through his hair and looked tense. ‘I don’t know what I feel about any of it. The idea that I could be Prince Jarrett is crazy, and yet—’ He broke off and shook his head.

  ‘And yet you see things in your dreams that make you think it could be true?’

  ‘In that case why don’t I remember my parents?’ he said savagely. ‘What horror is my mind trying so desperately to hide from me?’

  He was still grim and uncommunicative when they boarded the small sailing dingy and he cast off from the jetty. Holly did not know the first thing about sailing, but Jarek was an expert—as he was at most things and especially sex, she thought as she recalled how wickedly inventive he had been when he had joined her in the shower earlier.

  As they sailed around the headland and made for the cove Holly used the camera on her phone to take a few photos of the island. She became aware of a sound that grew louder, and glanced up to see a helicopter flying directly towards them.

  Jarek swore. ‘Lie down on the floor and hide your face,’ he shouted to her. ‘They’re shooting.’

  ‘What?’ She stared at him.

  Had the helicopter which was now right above them reminded Jarek of being in Sarajevo when the city had suffered air strikes? Holly wondered. She moved towards him to reassure him, but lost her balance. And as she lurched backwards on the boat she dropped her phone over the side. It immediately sank beneath the waves.

  ‘Damn it. Oh!’ She gave a cry as Jarek pushed her down to the floor of the boat.

  ‘They are paparazzi in the helicopter—shooting pictures of us,’ he told her grimly.

  ‘Are you sure? No one knows that you are staying on the island, or indeed that you might be a prince. And the paparazzi are certainly not interested in me,’ she said as she watched the helicopter fly away. ‘Maybe they were wildlife photographers, come to film the turtles.’

  Jarek made a disbelieving sound and continued to steer the yacht towards the cove.

  Although his mood improved, and they spent a pleasant afternoon watching the turtles, the incident was another reminder that his life was about to get a lot more complicated if the result of the DNA test revealed that he was a prince, Holly brooded. Where, if anywhere, would she fit into his life once he knew the truth about his identity? she wondered.

  When Jarek made love to her so beautifully she could not believe that he felt nothing for her other than desire, or that his hunger for her would fade. But maybe all those countless other women who had fallen for his lazy charm had believed the same thing, she thought bleakly.

  Dinner that evening was a quiet
affair. Jarek had reverted to being the brooding, unapproachable stranger who had gone to such great lengths to avoid her when they had been at Chalet Soline—a lifetime ago, it seemed. And Holly, who had questioned him endlessly about his past in an attempt to break his amnesia, was too afraid to ask him where their relationship was heading.

  She pleaded tiredness and took herself off to bed early, unable to deal with his palpable tension or hide her misery. But she still went to his room and climbed into his bed, which she had shared with him for the past two weeks. Surprisingly, she fell asleep almost instantly—only to be awoken in the dark of the night by Jarek reaching for her and pulling her close until that she felt his hard length press between her thighs.

  She went to him with a silent sigh of relief that this hadn’t changed. His fierce passion matched hers, and the underlying urgency she sensed in his caresses only made their coming together wilder, hotter, and so utterly magical that she pushed her doubts aside and showed him with her body the love that was in her heart.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘NO!’ JAREK CLAWED his way out of the darkness of his nightmare and jerked his head off the pillows. His breath came in harsh pants, as if he had been running, and he remembered that in his dream he had been running through a forest, stumbling over tree roots, branches whipping across his face.

  A man’s voice was urging him to run faster. His father’s assistant Asmir was ahead of him, holding the baby in his arms. Why wasn’t his mother holding Eliana? Where were his majka and tata?

  He turned his head to look for his parents and saw their car smashed up against a tree trunk. There was a loud bang and the bright orange glow of flames. Why didn’t his parents come?

  ‘Majka...’ He started to run back to the burning car, but Asmir grabbed his arm and dragged him deeper into the forest...

  Jarek swung his legs over the side of the bed and glanced at Holly as she stirred. But she did not wake up, and his heart twisted when she rolled into the space in the bed that he had just vacated. In the gossamer glow of dawn she looked like a sleeping angel, with her lovely face serene and her soft lips slightly parted. He would have liked to kiss her awake and tug the sheet from her body, to enjoy her one last time. But he dared not touch her now that he understood his nightmare. Now he knew what he had done.