Lifting her feet from the water, she wriggled her toes. ‘You’ll be glad to hear my feet are no longer aching.’
Her toes were long, her feet narrow with a delicate arch. She lifted her feet even higher, circling them. Her ankles were slim, her calf muscles toned.
What would it be like to have her legs wrapped around his?
He grabbed the champagne bottle from the basket, popped it open. He passed her a glass.
She sighed. ‘This is heaven.’
For the next half an hour they drank the champagne and nibbled on the fresh bread they had baked together that morning, using an olive-oil-based recipe Kara swore by. The sun was gentle, the birdsong and sound of the water pressing over the boulders in the stream hypnotic. A lazy sense of calm had his body grow increasingly heavy, his thoughts drowsy.
Champagne finished, Kara lay back on the blanket with a sigh and he joined her, the hard stone beneath him a welcome solidness. They lay with their feet side by side, drying them on the edge of the rock ledge.
Kara swayed her bent knees side to side, her hands on her belly, her gaze in his direction, a wide smile on her mouth. ‘I think the champagne has gone to my head.’
‘Mine too,’ he admitted. ‘I guess the long trek and lack of lunch probably didn’t help.’
Above them a buzzard soared in the thermals.
His heart rate upped a gear. Without looking he knew Kara was staring at him. He closed his eyes. He was not going to look in her direction. He should make some excuse and leave.
‘I’m very jealous of your long eyelashes, you know.’
He opened his eyes and turned to her. Her eyes held a soft, dewy tone. Her lips glistened as though the champagne had seeped into them. Gentle heat infused her cheeks.
Her hand shifted off her belly and onto the blanket between them. ‘I’ll miss you when you’re away.’
He sucked in some air. Dio! He really should head back to the villa. ‘And I’ll miss you.’
Why had he said that? Because it was true.
Qualify it... Don’t go down a road that will be hard to come back from.
‘Touring can be boring—it would be nice to have you there for company.’
She looked away from him but not before he saw the disappointment that dispatched her smile.
She bit her lip for a moment before saying, ‘And I have the Pink Heart’s charity ball to attend. It will be my first official duty on my own.’ She looked back at him, gave a shrug. ‘I’ll miss having your guidance.’
‘I’ve asked Princess Maria to travel with you to the ball and sit at the same table.’
She gave a fleeting smile. ‘Thank you.’
His hand found hers on the blanket.
Her eyes widened. He held his breath, waiting for her reaction. Her fingers threaded through his.
A question appeared in her gaze.
‘I guess it’s understandable that things might get a little muddled between us at the start of the marriage,’ he said.
‘Muddled?’
‘The emotion of the wedding, being alone, neither of us having been in a relationship for a long time...our hormones, our feelings, are getting muddled up.’
She nodded eagerly. ‘And the champagne isn’t helping either.’
Why is this...this...? Dio! Call it what it is. Why is this flirting so damn enjoyable?
He cleared his throat, his eyes glued to her mouth, memories of what it was like to kiss her heading straight to his groin. ‘I want to kiss you.’
She shifted onto her side. ‘Good.’
He released her hand. Moved onto his side too, edged up to her. Ran his hand through her hair. It was warm. As was her cotton top. Even the denim of her shorts held the heat of the day. He placed his hand on her bottom. Pulled her even closer. Found her mouth with a groan.
They kept it soft and exploratory for the whole of ten seconds.
Then her hand clasped against his skull, her mouth opening for him.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. And saw stars when her body rocked against his. He held tight, his arms on her back, one hand cupping her bottom, the other a sharp shoulder blade, wanting to meld her to him.
Within a minute things were seriously getting out of control. Kara was moaning against his mouth, her legs twisted around his. Her chest pressed against his was the sweetest, most dangerous, most tempting thing that had ever entered his life.
His thumb stroked the side of her breast. Her body shuddered.
Her mouth shifted away from his and began to trail down his throat, her lips scorching the skin beneath his open-neck T-shirt.
Her hands trailed even further south.
Pleasure blasted through him. With a groan he pulled her back up towards him, cradling her face in his hands. ‘We can’t.’
Her expression shifted from unseeing desire to frustration to disappointment and finally acceptance on a long inhale of breath.
She rolled off him.
He held her hand. ‘Are you okay?’
‘In a few minutes I will be.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘These blasted hormones—they have a lot to answer for.’
He sat up, allowed his blood pressure to settle and stood up.
He yanked off his T-shirt and then his shorts.
Kara gawked at him, a hand covering her mouth.
He spun around and jumped into the deep pool of water beyond a large boulder, a spray soaring upwards as he plunged beneath the cold water.
Even submerged, he heard Kara’s shriek.
CHAPTER TEN
THE CENTRAL COURTYARD of the Senator Hotel had been transformed into a Viennese ballroom. Chandeliers hung from invisible wires, and a full orchestra played on the temporary stage. Dancing with Javier Ventosa, a paediatrician consultant at Monrosa’s University Hospital, Kara tried to focus on her steps and turns, her head spinning at the quick rotations, only too aware Princess Maria was following her every move, just as she had done all week when she had supervised Kara’s dance lessons.
Mastering the steps of the Viennese waltz had been excruciatingly slow, she had tripped over her dance teacher, Horacio, more times than she could count and she had used the feeble excuse that she was more of a rugby girl to explain to Princess Maria her lack of progress when in truth it was her nephew who had stolen her concentration away.
They had been so close to making love. And a week on, her focus was still shot and a throb of unfulfilled lust was making her rubber-boned. A week on and she still couldn’t strip him from her mind, that image of him yanking off his top and shorts and plunging into the stream, soaking her in the process, playing on a constant loop. He had emerged all wet, glistening muscle, frustration etched on his face.
In silence he had walked away from her and she had collapsed back onto the ledge, weak with the need for more.
Dinner that night had been tense. Their conversation had been halting and awkward and full of things unsaid.
When he had left for Vietnam, his hug goodbye had been brief and she had watched him get into the car taking him to the airport and had winced at the relief that had swept over his expression.
He had wanted to get away.
Mortified by his relief, she had thrown herself into work, into settling into her new life in Monrosa, taken dance lessons in advance of tonight, and spent her evenings walking the interior of the palace and grounds, trying to familiarise herself with her new home.
A few times she had considered travelling to Villa Kara, driven by the need to find some antidote to the constant confusion settling into her bones. Confusion driven by his infrequent calls to her, which were full of facts but absent of any real truth between them.
The mountains usually brought her peace and in the private isolation of Villa Kara she might have been able to eke out some calmness. But memories of their sta
y there had kept her away. Memories of how Edwin had looked every morning when she had opened her bedroom door to find him freshly showered and preparing breakfast in the kitchen, his good-morning smile managing to ignite a furnace of happiness inside of her. Memories of his deep laughter when she had got stuck when rock climbing, but then his calm words of encouragement in guiding her back down.
Trying to create a new life in a new country, the pressures of royal life, trying to map out precisely how she was going to turn Young Adults Together into an effective global charity, were all making her vulnerable...and if her past history was anything to go by, when she was stressed and confused she was prone to making bad decisions. Very bad decisions. Decisions like sleeping with Edwin even though it would torpedo any hopes of their maintaining their friendship when this was all over. Some people managed to remain friends with their exes but there was no way she could do it. She simply didn’t have the emotional toughness for it. She would find it impossible not to feel exposed and heart-sore knowing what once had been there.
See, this was why she wasn’t cut out for relationships—she just became an emotional mess when embroiled in them. She was better off in the safety of singledom. She needed time to adjust to her new reality. Time to let the emotional fever inflamed by what the media had called a fairy-tale wedding ceremony and the promises they had made in public, die away.
The music came to a stop.
Javier bowed his thanks to her for accepting his invitation to dance. He was an incredibly attractive man...and single too. But not one cell in her body seemed capable of responding to his dark looks and charming smile.
She accepted his hand and offer to escort her back to her table.
But then she dropped his hand, the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.
Javier stepped back and bowed to someone behind her.
And backed away.
A dovecote-full of fluttering exploded in her stomach.
‘I never knew my wife could dance so well.’
Longing pure and unadulterated flushed through her body at his low whisper.
She swung around. She wanted to throw herself into his arms but caught herself in time.
Instead she smiled at him goofily, heat blasting her cheeks. ‘You’re home.’
* * *
All through her dance with Javier, whom he had first met when opening the new children’s wing of MUH, Edwin had stayed in the shadows of the courtyard watching Kara as she glided across the floor in Javier’s arms. Lust and jealousy had him barely clinging to his sanity. He had wanted to march onto the dance floor and interrupt the dance midway, demand the right to dance with his wife.
His wife. His beautiful wife. Dio! Her ballgown was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. It was a dress that summed up her personality—the pale blue, close to silver tulle skirt overlaid with floral appliqué, cute and lovely just as she was, the plunging front and back the hidden side of her that was all heat and passion.
‘You’re home.’
Had words ever seemed so sweet, so right, so layered with danger?
He searched for some light-hearted response, but the delight shining in Kara’s eyes stole every word away.
He held out his hand and invited her to dance with him.
Around them, other couples who had already begun to circle the dance floor smiled fondly at their reunion.
She stepped into his arms. He longed to be able to pull her close, anchor her to him, but the waltz demanded an exasperating distance be kept between their bodies.
‘Why are you home early?’ she asked.
‘There’s still a lot of work that has to be done in preparation for my succession.’
And I missed you.
‘How was Hanoi?’
‘Hot and chaotic but very beautiful. I loved it there.’
He had loved Hanoi, but he had felt flat there. He had longed to have Kara by his side, experiencing the infectious chaos of the city and the stunning beauty of the surrounding countryside. He had missed her laughter, the appraising sweep of her blue gaze, the way his body tingled when she was in the same room. Dio, he was so sick of pretending his feelings for Kara had not changed, when they had. She was no longer just a friend. She was his wife. Lying in his hotel bedroom two nights ago, he had finally admitted to himself that he wanted her. As a husband wanted a wife. He wanted to sleep with her, mouth against mouth, breath against breath, skin against skin.
The pretending had to stop.
‘I missed you,’ he said.
Her gaze shot up to meet his. She frowned as though she was trying to decipher the true meaning of his words.
Her lips parted. Those glorious soft lips... Thoughts of what they were capable of had tormented his dreams for the past week.
The music came to an end. Instead of stepping back, Kara touched her fingers against the skin above his shirt collar, an intimate move that had relief and raw need buckling his knees. ‘I missed you too.’
He gathered her closer. Placed a kiss on her neck, just below her ear.
They stayed on the dance floor until the orchestra played the final song of the night. They said their goodbyes to the event organisers and he led her out of the private exit, where Álvaro and Marco, their assigned protection officers, were waiting for them. Domenico and Lucas had made a poor attempt at disguising their delight when he had announced he was cutting his trip short. Their eagerness to get home to their families had sent his head into a spin. Why was he jealous of something he didn’t want?
He had told them to take the next three days off work.
They drove in silence through the streets of Monrosa. Tourists and locals, leaving the restaurants of the old town, stopped to stare as the outriders passed them by, grabbing their phones to snatch a photo as their SUV driven by Álvaro swept past.
He held Kara’s hand, her fingers clasping his tight.
Back at their apartment, he instructed both Simone his valet and Cecilia, Kara’s dresser, who were awaiting their return, that their services weren’t needed.
He brought her into the drawing room, knowing he was at a fork in the road that was his life.
He gestured towards the drinks cabinet but Kara shook her head.
This would be their first night of needing to share a bed.
The decisions he would take, they would take, in the next few minutes could alter their lives for ever.
But they were both adults. Capable of handling uncharted territory.
He cleared his throat. Lost for words.
Kara touched her hand to her breastbone, giving him an uncertain and fleeting smile.
‘Tonight...’ he faltered.
She moved forward from where she had been balancing her fingertips against the side table filled with gold and silver framed family photographs towards the marble fireplace. ‘Yes?’
There was a new framed photograph on the side table. He went and lifted the heavy silver frame. It was a signed photograph from their wedding photographer, Patrizia Mauro, of them waving to the crowd as they had emerged from the cathedral. Kara’s eyes were sparkling. The perfect image of a bride overcome with emotion. He cleared his throat again. ‘Tonight...we’ll be sharing a bed.’
Kara inhaled deeply. ‘Yes.’
He winced at the dread in her voice. ‘I can sleep on the floor...’
‘No! Of course not.’
It really was time for the pretending to stop. He bunched his hands.
But would the truth destroy everything?
‘If we sleep in the same bed...’
He lowered the frame to the table, catching a glimpse of his parents’ wedding photograph. They had had a good marriage despite its having been arranged. Could Kara and he come to some sort of arrangement that would work for them?
‘I’m attracted to you and I’ve missed you.
I want to kiss you again. And I’d prefer for it not to stop there.’ Unsteadied by his admission, he paused. Had he just made the biggest, most embarrassing blunder of his life?
He waited for Kara to say something, but instead she walked past him and out into the corridor.
He followed her, unsure what was happening.
In their bedroom, she stood at the near edge of the bed, her back to him. ‘Cecilia was going to help me undress, so I’ll need you to unbutton my gown for me.’
A lick of desire travelled the length of his body at the huskiness of her voice. He fumbled with the button holding the material tight to her waist, his fingers beating like nervous bats against her lower back. The button, once he got his fingers under control, gave way easily. He shifted his head down to her ear. ‘I’m guessing you could have easily undone that yourself.’
She shivered, her neck tilting away from his breath. ‘Yes, but there would have been no fun in that, would there?’
He touched a finger to her spine. She arched her back.
‘I’ve spent the entire week away thinking about you.’
She twisted her head. Her eyes, even in the faint light cast by the single lamp in the corner, glittered. ‘In a good way, I hope.’
‘I’m afraid not.’ He liked her groaned response. A lot. His fingertip bumped over the knots of her spine and then his whole hand fanned out to sweep across the edge of her shoulder blade, his skin tingling at the soft warmth of her body.
He edged the material of her dress off her shoulders. She drew her head back and whispered, ‘Tell me what you’ve been thinking.’
He touched his lips to her collarbone. ‘Our kiss, the pattern of your ribs,’ he edged closer to her neck, he nipped her skin between his teeth, chuckled to hear her moan, ‘your sighs of pleasure when I touch somewhere tender.’
She turned to him, her hands holding the material of her dress from falling down. Fire and energy radiated from her. ‘Tell me what you want.’
‘I want to make love to you.’
She nodded. Dropped her hands. Her dress fell to the floor.
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