Vows to Save His Crown

by Kate Hewitt

  His lips felt both hard and soft, warm and cool. A thousand sensations exploded inside her as she parted her own lips, inviting him in. He reached up and cupped her cheek with his big, warm hand, his thumb stroking her skin, making her both shiver and shudder. Everything felt as if it were on fire.

  The kiss went on and on, deeper and deeper, fireworks exploding all over her body. She’d never been kissed like this. She’d never felt like this.

  Her hands came up of their own accord to clutch at his hard shoulders, fingers clawing at him, begging him for more.

  And he gave it, one knee sliding between her own willing legs, the length of his hard, taut body pressed against hers for one glorious second before he stepped away, looking as composed to Rachel’s dazed gaze as if they’d just shaken hands.

  While she...she was in pieces. Pieces, scattered on the floor, with her mind spinning too much to even start to pick them up.

  ‘I think that proves,’ Mateo said in a clipped voice as he straightened his suit jacket, ‘that attraction is not an issue.’

  He stood there, a faint smile curling his mouth, his eyes gleaming with unmistakable triumph, while Rachel was still gasping and reeling from what had obviously been an unremarkable kiss to him. Meanwhile it had rocked her world right off its axis. Heaven only knew if she’d be able to straighten it again.

  Standing in front of her, his arms folded, his eyebrows raised, he looked so confident, so utterly assured of his undeniable masculine appeal, that Rachel wanted to scream. Claw the face she’d just kissed. Had he really felt it necessary to prove how in thrall to him she could be?

  While he seemed almost at pains to show how utterly unaffected he was—his expression composed, his breathing even, his manner bland.

  Damn him.

  ‘If you thought that was meant to win me over, you were wrong,’ Rachel choked out, unable to hide the tears of mortification that had sprung to her eyes. She couldn’t stand another minute of this utter humiliation. When she’d felt it once before, she’d vowed never to expose herself to it again, and so she wouldn’t. This meeting was over.

  While Mateo looked on, seeming distinctly nonplussed, she grabbed her coat and yanked it on, winding the scarf tightly around her neck, needing as many barriers between him and her as she could get.

  ‘Rachel...’ He stretched out one hand, his brows knitted together. He didn’t understand. He thought she should be grateful for his attention, for the fact that he could kiss like a cross between Prince Charming and Casanova. And that made Rachel even more furious, so her voice shook as she spoke her next words.

  ‘You might think you’re God’s greatest gift to women, Mateo Karr—whatever, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to fall into your lap like a plum ripe for the picking. As much as you so obviously thought I would.’ She jabbed a finger into his powerful pecs for good measure, making his eyes widen.

  ‘So you’re handsome. So you’re a good kisser. So you’re an out-and-out prince. I don’t care! I don’t care a—a fig about any of it. I am not marrying you.’ And with that final battle cry, the tears she’d tried to keep back spilling from her eyes, Rachel stalked out of the room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WELL. THAT HADN’T gone exactly as he’d expected. In fact, it hadn’t gone the way he’d expected at all—a failed experiment, if there ever was one.

  Because if he’d truly been conducting an experiment, Mateo acknowledged with a grimace, he would have first made his aim.

  To convince Rachel Lewis to marry him, and that physical compatibility would not be an issue for them.

  And his prediction? That she would agree, and it wouldn’t. And the variables? Well, how attracted they both would be, he supposed. And those had been variable indeed.

  In fact, he didn’t really like to think how variable their attraction had been. He’d been acting on instinct at first, sensing that Rachel needed proof that physicality between them would not be a problem. And from the moment his lips had brushed hers—no, from the moment he’d put his hands on her arms, felt her warm softness, and drawn her to him—he’d known there was no problem at all.

  In fact, the lack of problem suggested a problem. Because Mateo hadn’t expected that variable, hadn’t expected to want more and more from the woman who had become so pliant in his arms.

  Well, he told himself now, there had been another variable—the fact that he hadn’t had sex in a very long time, and so his response had to have been predicated on that. Explainable. Simple. It didn’t mean anything. It certainly didn’t mean he had some sort of ridiculously overwhelming attraction to Rachel Lewis, when he hadn’t looked at her that way even once in ten years.

  Which right now felt like a comfort. He could be attracted to her, but it wasn’t a force in his life. It wasn’t something he would have to keep under control.

  Not that it mattered anyway, because she’d stormed out of here as if she never intended seeing him again.

  So what should his next step be? Why had she been so offended by his kiss? He’d felt her response, so he knew it wasn’t some sort of maidenly revulsion. He thought of her words—‘You might think you’re God’s greatest gift to women...’

  He hardly thought that, of course. Admittedly, he’d never had trouble finding sexual partners, not that he’d had all that many. He was too focused on his work and too discerning in his companions to sleep around, but it certainly wasn’t for lack of interest on women’s—many women’s—part. But Mateo didn’t think he was arrogant about it, and he hadn’t been proving to Rachel how attractive she found him, but rather how good they could be together.

  And the answer was they could be quite surprisingly good indeed.

  So why had she been annoyed? Why had she seemed, rather alarmingly, hurt?

  Mateo was still musing on this when there was a tap on the door. Expecting the waiter back, to deliver the main course they now wouldn’t be eating, he barked a command to enter.

  The door creaked open slowly and Rachel appeared. Her hair was in damp tendrils around her face, and the shoulders of her coat were wet. The look she gave him was one of abashed humour.

  ‘I think I may have been a little bit of a drama queen there,’ she said, and Mateo nearly laughed with the relief of having her back, smiling at him.

  ‘At least you were a queen,’ he returned with a small smile. ‘I knew you had it in you.’

  She laughed ruefully and shook her head. ‘This is all so crazy, Mateo.’

  ‘I agree that it seems crazy, but how many experiments have we conducted over the years that others said were crazy? Or pointless? Or just wouldn’t work?’

  She bit her lip, white teeth sinking into pink lushness, making Mateo remember exactly how those lips had felt. Tasted. ‘Quite a few.’

  ‘And this is just another experiment. The ultimate experiment.’ It sounded so clever and neat, but a shadow had entered Rachel’s eyes.

  ‘And what happens when the experiment fails?’

  ‘It won’t.’ He answered swiftly, too swiftly. She wasn’t convinced.

  ‘We write up the lab results? Draw some conclusions? Marriages between princes and commoners are not a good idea.’

  ‘I admit, the experiment analogy only goes so far. And you only have to look at this country’s royal family to know that a marriage between a prince and a commoner has an excellent chance of success.’

  ‘Or not.’

  ‘The point is, our marriage can be successful. There’s absolutely no reason for it not to be.’

  ‘Isn’t there?’ There was a note of sorrowful vulnerability in her voice that made Mateo tense. And this had all been starting to look so promising.

  ‘Are you referring to something specific?’ he asked in as reasonable a tone as he could manage.

  She sighed, shrugging off her wet coat as she sat back down at the table. It seemed they
would be eating their main course, after all. ‘Yes and no, I suppose.’

  Mateo took his own seat. ‘As you know, there are no yes-and-no situations in science.’

  ‘This isn’t science. But it may be chemistry.’ She met his gaze evenly, her expression determined.

  ‘Physical chemistry,’ Mateo stated, because it was obvious. ‘You think we don’t have it? I thought I proved—’

  ‘You proved you were a good kisser,’ Rachel cut across him. ‘And that you can...make me respond to you.’

  He frowned, wishing he could figure out what was bothering her, and why it was so much. ‘And that is a problem?’

  ‘It’s not a problem. It’s just...an inequality.’ She looked away, blinking rapidly, and Mateo realised that no matter her seemingly calm and practical exterior, something about their kiss had affected her deeply, and not on a physical level.

  ‘Why were you a drama queen, Rachel?’ he asked slowly, feeling his way through the words. ‘What made you respond so...emotionally?’

  She was silent, her expression distant as she looked away from him, and Mateo decided not to press.

  ‘When are our main courses coming?’ she finally asked. ‘I stormed out of here without eating my salad, and I’m starving.’

  ‘So why did you storm out of here, exactly?’ Mateo asked, taking the obvious opening. Rachel paused, her once determined gaze sliding away from his. Whatever it was, she clearly didn’t want to tell him. ‘Rachel,’ he said gently, ‘if we’re going to be married, I need to know.’

  She swung back towards him, her face drawn in lines of laughing disbelief. ‘“If we’re going to be married”? A little cocksure, aren’t you, Mateo?’

  ‘I meant hypothetically,’ he returned smoothly. ‘If it’s something you’re thinking about even remotely...and you must be, because you came back here.’

  ‘Maybe I came back here because I value your friendship.’

  ‘That too.’

  ‘And I didn’t want to look like a prima donna.’

  ‘Three reasons, then.’

  She laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh, Mateo. If we don’t get married, I will miss you.’

  Something leapt inside him and he leaned forward. ‘Then marry me, Rachel.’ His voice throbbed with more intent than he wanted to reveal. More desire.

  Her eyes widened as her gaze moved over his face, as if she were trying to plumb the depths of him, and Mateo didn’t want that. He held her gaze but he schooled his expression into something calm and determined. How he really felt.

  ‘The reason I might have overreacted,’ she said slowly, her gaze still on his face, ‘is because I’ve... I’ve been burned before. By an arrogant man who thought I’d be grateful for his attentions, and then made a joke of them afterwards.’

  Mateo didn’t like the sound of that at all. Everything in him tightened as he answered levelly, ‘Tell me more.’

  She shrugged, spreading her hands. ‘Sadly there’s not much more to tell. He was a doctoral student when I was in my second year at Oxford—he paid me special attention, I thought he cared. He didn’t, and he let people know it.’ Her lips tightened as she looked away.

  What was that supposed to mean? ‘He hurt you?’ Mateo asked, amazed at how much he disliked the thought. Not just disliked, but detested, with a deep, gut-churning emotion he didn’t expect or want to feel.

  ‘Emotionally, yes, he did. But I got over it.’ Rachel lifted her chin, a gesture born of bravery. ‘I didn’t love him, not like that. But my ego was bruised, and I felt humiliated and hurt, and I decided for myself that I was never going to let another man treat me that way ever again, and so far I haven’t.’

  Realisation trickled icily through him and he jerked back a little. ‘And you think I did? Was?’

  ‘It felt like that at the time, but, I admit, I probably overreacted, due to my past experience.’ She shrugged again. ‘So now you know.’

  Yet he didn’t know, not really. He didn’t know what this vile man had done, or how exactly he’d humiliated Rachel. He didn’t know how she’d responded, or how long it had taken her to recover and heal. But Mateo was reluctant to ask any more, to know any more. It was her private pain, and she’d tell him if she wanted to. Besides, information was responsibility, and he had enough of that to be going on with.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘For what happened. And how I made you feel.’

  ‘You didn’t mean to. At least I don’t think you did. Which is why I’m still here.’ She gave him one of her old grins. ‘That, and the risotto that had better be here soon.’

  ‘I assure you, it is.’ Mateo reached for his phone and texted the maître d’ of the restaurant, whom he’d contacted earlier to make the reservation. Within seconds the waiter was back, with two more silver-domed dishes.

  ‘So if you really are a prince,’ Rachel asked after he’d whisked the lids off and left, ‘where’s your security detail? Why isn’t there a guy in a dark suit with a walkie-talkie in the corner of the room?’

  ‘That would be a rather unpleasant breach of privacy,’ Mateo returned. ‘He’s outside in the hall.’

  Rachel nearly dropped her fork. ‘Is he?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She shook her head slowly. ‘Did you have security all the time in Cambridge? Was I just completely blind?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I chose not to. As the third in line to the throne, I had that freedom.’

  ‘But you don’t any more.’

  His lips and gut both tightened. ‘No.’

  * * *

  Rachel watched Mateo’s expression shutter with a flicker of curiosity, and a deeper ripple of compassion. ‘Do you want to be king?’ she asked and he stiffened, the shutter coming down even more.

  ‘It’s not a question of want. It’s my duty.’

  ‘You didn’t actually answer me.’

  His mouth thinned as he inclined his head. ‘Very well. I want to do my duty.’

  Which sounded rather grim. Rachel took a forkful of risotto and chewed slowly. It was delicious, rich and creamy, but she barely registered the flavour as her mind whirled. Was she really thinking seriously about saying yes to Mateo’s shocking proposal?

  It had struck her, as she’d stormed away from the restaurant and got soaked in the process, that she was a little too outraged. It was easier to feel outraged, to wrap herself in it like a cloak of armour, than to think seriously about what Mateo was suggesting.

  And yet the farther she’d walked, the more she’d realised she had to be sensible about this. She had to be the scientist she’d always been. She couldn’t sail on the high tide of emotion, not for long. It simply wasn’t in her nature.

  And so she’d gone back, and now she was here, thinking seriously about saying yes.

  ‘So what would a marriage between us look like?’ she asked. ‘On a day-to-day basis?’

  ‘We’d live in the royal palace in Constanza,’ Mateo answered with calm swiftness. ‘It is a beautiful place, built five hundred years ago, right on the sea.’

  ‘Okay...’

  ‘As I said before, you could choose your involvement in various charities and initiatives. Admittedly, there would be a fair amount of ribbon cutting and clapping, that sort of thing. It’s unavoidable, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I don’t mind that. But I don’t exactly look the part, do I?’ She had to say it.

  Mateo looked distinctly nonplussed. ‘So you’ve intimated before. If you mean clothes, I assure you, you will be provided with a complete wardrobe of your choice, along with personal stylists and hairdressers as you wish.’

  ‘So like Cinderella.’ She didn’t know how she felt about that. A little excited? A little insulted? A little afraid? All three, and more than a little.

  Mateo shrugged. ‘Like any royal princess—or queen.’

  ‘A
nd what about children?’ Rachel asked. Her stomach quivered at the thought. ‘You mentioned needing an heir as soon as possible.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s kind of a big thing, Mateo.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘You don’t even know if I want children.’

  ‘I assume we would not be having this discussion if you were completely averse to the idea.’

  Rachel sighed and laid down her fork. Her stomach was churning too much to eat. ‘I don’t even know,’ she admitted. ‘I haven’t let myself think about it.’

  Mateo frowned, his gaze searching her face. ‘Let yourself?’

  ‘I’m thirty-two, and I haven’t had a serious relationship since university. I assumed it wasn’t likely to happen.’

  ‘Well, now you can assume differently.’

  ‘Assuming I can get pregnant in the first place.’

  He shrugged. ‘Is there any reason you believe you cannot?’

  ‘No.’ She couldn’t believe they were talking about having a baby together so clinically, and yet somehow it didn’t surprise her at all. Mateo was approaching the whole matter of their marriage in as scientific a way as possible, which she didn’t mind, not exactly.

  ‘What about love?’ she asked baldly. ‘I know you didn’t approach me because of love, but is it something that could happen in time? Something you’d hope for?’ A long silence ensued, which told her everything.

  ‘Is that something you would wish?’ Mateo asked finally. ‘Something you would hope for?’

  Which sounded pathetic, and was the exact reason why she’d thought this whole idea was ridiculous in the first place. Well, that and a lot of other reasons, too.

  And yet...was it? Did she want the fairy-tale romance, to fall head over heels in love with someone? With Mateo? Falling head over heels sounded painful. And from her limited experience with Josh, it had been. Did she really want that again, just because everyone around her—on TV, in books—seemed to assume it was?