Читать книгу Royals: For Their Royal Heir - Эбби Грин - Страница 15

CHAPTER SIX

‘EARTH TO ALIX...HELLO? Anyone home?’

Alix blinked and looked at his friend and chief advisor, Andres, who had flown in from Isle Saint Croix to meet him. Andres was Alix’s secret weapon. Devoutly loyal to getting Alix back on the throne, he was also working as a spy, of sorts, in the current regime in Isle Saint Croix. He was the reason Alix was going to get reinstated as King.

‘Have you heard a word I’ve said?’

Alix knew he hadn’t. His head had been consumed with soft silky skin. Long dark hair. Huge green eyes like jewels. Soft gasps and moans. The heady rush of pleasure when he— Damn. He jerked up out of his chair. This was ridiculous.

Leila was like a fever in his blood. He couldn’t concentrate.

He went and stood at the window, and then after a few seconds turned back to his friend and said, ‘I’ve met someone new.’

Andres made a small whistling sound, his boyishly handsome face cracking into a wry grin. ‘I know you move fast, Alix, but this is your fastest ever. Usually you leave at least a week between switching partners. This is good, though—when will we see pictures hit the press?’

Alix folded his arms and scowled at his friend’s exaggeration. And then he thought of what Leila had said about wanting to avoid press intrusion. And, as much as he needed it right now, suddenly the thought of paparazzi hounding her was very unpalatable. It made him feel almost...protective.

There had to be a solution. His brain seized on an idea and it took root. And the more it did so, the more seductive it became.

‘Our supporters on the ground are aware that we are conducting a campaign of misdirection, aren’t they?’

Andres nodded. ‘Absolutely. They know that you’re primed and ready to return, no matter what the press says.’

‘Then if I was to leave and go to my island in the Caribbean for ten days it could only work in our favour?’

Andres huffed out a breath. ‘Well, sure... I mean, you’re just as contactable there as here... And if there are photos emerging of you frolicking in the sun with some leggy beauty the opposition will be taken completely by surprise when we pull the rug right out from underneath them.’

Alix smiled, sweet anticipation flooding his blood. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

Andres frowned. ‘But, Alix, you do know that your island is totally impenetrable by the outside world? No paparazzi have ever caught you there. It’s too far—too remote.’

Alix’s smile faded as he got serious. ‘Which is why you’re going to arrange for one of my most trustworthy staff on the island to take long-range grainy photos—I’ll let you know when is a good time. Enough to identify me, but not Leila. He can email them to you, and you can send them out to whoever you think should get them for maximum beneficial exposure. I want this controlled.’

Alix felt only the smallest pang of his conscience and told himself he’d still be protecting her identity.

Andres’s eyes gleamed with unmistakable interest at the lengths his friend was willing to go to for a woman, but Alix cut him off before he could say anything.

‘I don’t want to discuss her, Andres, just set it up. We’ll fly out tomorrow.’

* * *

‘You want to take me where?’

The blinds were down in Leila’s shop and she’d just closed up for the evening when Alix had appeared, causing a seismic physical response. She hadn’t heard from him since that morning, when they’d arrived back from Venice, and she didn’t like to admit the way her nerves had stretched tighter and tighter over the day, as she’d wondered if she’d hear from him again. In spite of what he’d said.

And now he was here, and he’d just said—

‘I have an island in the Caribbean. It’s private...secluded. I’ve cleared my schedule for the next ten days—I need to take a break. I want you to come with me, Leila. I want to explore this with you...what’s going on between us.’

Leila felt sideswiped, bewildered, along with an illicit flutter of excitement. ‘But...I can’t just leave! Who’ll look after my shop and business? The last thing I can afford now is to close up.’

Smoothly Alix said, ‘I can hire someone to manage the shop in your absence. They won’t have your knowledge, obviously, but they’ll be able to cover basic sales till you get back.’

Leila opened her mouth to protest, but the truth was she wasn’t really in a position to take orders for new perfumes until she found some factory space, so all she was doing in essence was selling what they had. She could mix perfumes on a very small scale, which was what she’d done for Alix. So she was dispensable.

Weakly, she protested. ‘But we’ve only spent one night together. I can’t just take off like this.’

Alix raised a brow. ‘Can’t you? What’s stopping you?’

Leila felt irritation rise. ‘Not everyone lives in a world where you can just take off to the other side of the earth on a whim. Some of us have to think of the consequences.’ But right then Leila knew she wasn’t thinking of financial or economic consequences—she was thinking of more emotional ones. Already.

Then Alix did the one thing guaranteed to scramble her brain completely. He came close and slid his hand around the back of her neck, under her hair, and tugged her towards him.

He said softly, ‘I’ll show you the consequences.’

His scent reached her brain before she even registered the effect it was having on her. Her blood started fizzing, and between her legs she was still tender but she could feel herself growing damp.

An acute physical reaction to desire. To this man.

Hunger, ravenous and scary, whipped through her so fast she couldn’t control it. And when Alix lowered his mouth to hers she was already lost. Already saying yes, throwing caution to the wind. Because the truth was that dealing with him in this environment was scarier—so maybe going to the other side of the world would keep them in fantasy land. And when it was over she’d come back to normality. Whatever normal was...

When the kiss ended they were both breathing heavily, and Leila was pressed between the counter and Alix’s very hard body. They looked at each other.

Shakily, Leila said, ‘This is just... It won’t last.’ She didn’t even frame it as a question.

Something infinitely hard came into Alix’s eyes and he shook his head. He almost looked sad for a moment. ‘No, it never lasts.’

Leila drew in a slightly shaky breath. One more step over the line couldn’t hurt, could it? She was doing this with her eyes wide open. No illusions. No falling in love. She was not her innocent, naive mother.

‘Okay, I’ll come with you.’

Alix just smiled.

* * *

‘There it is—just down there.’

Leila looked, and couldn’t quite believe her eyes. She’d never seen such vivid colours. Lush green and pale white sand, clear azure water. Palm trees. It was like the manifestation of a dream she wasn’t even aware she’d had.

She couldn’t actually speak. She was dumbfounded. This was the last in a series of flights that had taken them from Paris to Nassau and now in a smaller plane to Alix’s private island, which was called Isle de la Paix—Island of Peace.

And it looked peaceful from up here. They were circling lower now, and Leila could see a beautiful colonial-style house, and manicured grounds leading down to a long sliver of beach where foamy waves lapped the pristine shore.

She was glad she’d agreed to come here—because she knew this experience would help her to keep Alix in some fantasy place once their affair was over.

They landed, bouncing gently over a strip cut into the grass in a large open, flat area. Leila could see a couple of staff waiting outside and an open-top Jeep.

When they left the plane the warmth hit Leila like a hot oven opening in her face. It was humid—and delicious. She could already feel the effects sinking through her skin to her bones, making them more fluid, less tense.

The smiling staff greeted them with lilting voices and took their bags into a van. Alix led Leila over to the Jeep, taking her by the hand. When he’d buckled her in, and climbed in at the other side, he looked at her and grinned.

Leila grinned back, her heart light. He suddenly looked more carefree than she’d ever seen him, and she realised that he’d always looked slightly stern. Even when relaxed. But not here.

‘Would you like a brief tour of the island, madam?’

‘That would be lovely,’ Leila responded with another grin.

They took off, and Alix drove them along dirt tracks through the lush forest that skirted along the most beautiful beaches she’d ever seen. The sun hit them and the Jeep with dappled rainbows of light, bathing them in warmth. Leila tipped her head back and closed her eyes, revelling in the sensation.

When the Jeep came to a stop she opened her eyes again and saw that they were on the edge of a small, perfect beach.

Leila leant forward. The smell of the sea was heady, along with the sharper tang of vegetation and dry earth. She itched to analyse the scents but the view competed. It was sensory overload. And the most perfectly hued clear seawater she’d ever seen lapped the shore just yards away.

Alix jumped out of the Jeep and came around, expertly unbuckling her belt and lifting her out before she could object, strong arms under her legs and back. He walked them down to the beach. It was late afternoon, and still hot, but the intense heat of the sun had diminished.

He put her down and looked at her, raising a brow. ‘Have you ever skinny-dipped?’

Leila’s mouth opened and she blustered, ‘No, I certainly have not!’ even as she felt a very illicit tingle of rebellion.

Alix was already pulling off his clothes. He’d changed on the plane before they’d got to Nassau, into a polo shirt and casual trousers. Leila gaped as his body was revealed, piece by mouthwatering piece.

She’d only seen him naked in the dimly lit confines of the Venetian palazzo, and now he stood before her, lit by the glorious sun against a paradise backdrop.

He was stunning. Not an ounce of fat. Hewn from rock. Pure olive-skinned muscular beauty. And one muscle in particular was twitching under her rapt gaze.

Leila’s cheeks flamed and she dragged her gaze up. She sounded strangled. ‘I can’t—we can’t! What if someone comes along?’ She glanced behind her into the trees.

But then Alix was in front of her, his hand turning her chin back to him. She looked at him helplessly and he said, ‘Listen. Just listen.’

Leila did—and heard nothing. Not one sound that didn’t come directly from the island itself. No sirens or traffic or voices. Just the breeze and the trees and birds, and the water lapping near their feet.

‘It’s just us, Leila. Apart from a handful of staff at the house, we’re completely alone.’

A sense of freedom such as she’d never felt before made her chest swell and lightness pervade her body. She felt young and carefree. It was heady.

‘Now, are you coming into the water willingly? Or do I have to throw you in fully clothed?’

Leila started to shrug off her jacket, and said, mock petulantly, ‘Fine, Your Majesty.’

Alix watched her, stark naked and completely blasé. ‘That’s more like it.’

His eyes got darker as Leila self-consciously took off her shirt and trousers, very aware of their chain-store dullness.

When she was in her bra and pants she hesitated, and Alix growled softly, ‘Keep going.’

Leila fought back the memory of that other woman and reached behind her to undo her bra, letting it fall forward and off. The bare skin of her breasts prickled and her nipples tightened. Avoiding Alix’s gaze now, she pulled down her pants with an economic movement, stepping out of them and laying them neatly on her pile of clothes.

She was naked on a beach, in a tropical paradise with an equally naked man. The reality was too much to take in, so with a whoop of disbelief and sheer joy Leila ran for the sea, feeling the warm, salty water embrace her. And then she dived deep under an oncoming wave before she exploded into pieces completely.

* * *

Leila wandered through Alix’s house dressed in nothing but one of his oversized T-shirts, her hair in a tangled knot on top of her head. She’d never been so consistently undressed in her life, and after her initial self-consciousness she’d realised to her shock that she was something of a sensualist, relishing the freedom. Much as she’d exulted in the feel of her naked body in the sea on that first day.

Since they’d arrived at his house after skinny-dipping three days before, damp and salty from the sea, they’d barely left his bedroom. He’d retrieved food from the kitchen at intermittent intervals, and they’d gorged on each other in a feast of the senses. Leila’s inexperience was fast becoming a thing of the past under Alix’s expert tutelage.

When Leila had woken a short time before it had been the first time Alix hadn’t been in bed beside her, or in the shower, or bringing food back to the bedroom. So she’d come to find him.

And now she was taking in the splendour of his house properly for the first time. It was luxurious without being ostentatious. Mostly in tones of soothing off-white and grey. Muslin drapes billowed in the soft island breeze through open windows. It truly was paradise, and Leila felt a pang that her mother was gone and couldn’t experience this.

Little objets d’art were dotted here and there—tastefully. Leila stopped before a small portrait that hung in the main foyer area and her jaw dropped when she realised she must be looking at an original Picasso.

A soft sound from nearby made Leila whirl around, and her face flamed when she saw an attractive middle-aged, casually dressed woman looking at her with a warm smile on her face.

The woman put out a hand. ‘Sorry to startle you, Miss Verughese. I was wondering if you’d like some lunch? I’m Matilde—Alix’s roving housekeeper.’

She had an American accent. Leila forced an embarrassed smile. She hadn’t seen any staff yet. She gestured to her clothes—or lack of them. ‘Sorry, I was just looking for Mr Saint—that is... Alix.’

Matilde smiled wider. ‘Don’t worry, honey, that’s what this island is all about—relaxation. You’ll find Alix in his study, just down the hall. Why don’t I prepare a nice lunch for you both on the terrace? It’ll be ready in about half an hour.’

Leila smiled back at the woman, who was clearly friendly enough with Alix to be on first-name terms. ‘Please call me Leila—and that sounds lovely.’

The woman was turning away, and then she turned back suddenly and said, sotto voce to Leila, ‘You know, he’s never brought a woman here before.’

And then, with a wink, she was disappearing down the corridor, leaving Leila with a belly full of butterflies. She hated it that it made her so happy to know this wasn’t routine for him.

Leila wandered down the hall, with its gleaming polished wooden floors. She heard a low, deep voice and followed it into a room to see Alix, bare-chested, sitting at a desk with a laptop open before him. He was on the phone. And he was frowning.

The room was as beautiful as the rest of the house, with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. Books that looked well used.

He looked up and saw her, and some indecipherable expression crossed his face before he said something Leila couldn’t hear and put down the phone. He closed his laptop.

Leila felt as if she’d intruded on something and put out a hand. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

Alix stood up and Leila saw that he was wearing only low-slung, faded jeans. Her insides sizzled. He looked amazing in a suit and tuxedo, but like this...he was edible.

‘You’re not disturbing me. Sorry for leaving you...’

He came and stood before her and Leila imagined she could feel the electricity crackle between them.

‘I bumped into Matilde,’ she babbled. ‘She seems lovely. She’s making us lunch and it’ll be on the terrace in half an—’

Alix put a finger to Leila’s mouth and quirked a sexy smile. ‘Half an hour?’

Leila nodded.

Alix took his hand away and scooped Leila up into his arms before she knew what was happening. He was soon climbing up the stairs and Leila hissed, ‘She’s making lunch, Alix. We can’t just disappear—’

They were at the bedroom door by now, and the sight of the tumbled bed made Leila stop talking. Apparently they could.

* * *

When they finally did make it down to the terrace, much later that day, Matilde was totally discreet and delivered a feast of tapas-like food. Salads and pasta. American-style wings and ribs. Seafood—spicy fish and rice, crab claws with garlic sauce. Lobster. Chilled white wine.

Leila had wondered if they would even make a dent in the feast laid before them, but just when she was licking her fingers after eating spicy fish she caught Alix’s amused gaze.

‘What?’

He leant forward. ‘You have some sauce on the corner of your lip.’

Leila darted out her tongue and encountered Alix’s finger, because he’d reached out to scoop it up. Immediately a wanton carnality entered Leila’s blood and she moved so that she could suck Alix’s finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip, much as he’d shown her how to—

She let his finger go with an abrupt pop, aghast at how easily she was becoming a slave to this man and her desires.

She found herself blurting out the first thing that came into her head to try and diffuse the intensity. ‘Is it true that you’ve never brought a woman here?’ She immediately regretted her words. Damn her runaway mouth!

Hurriedly she said, ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that—it doesn’t matter.’

Alix’s voice was wry. ‘I should have known Matilde couldn’t resist. She’s a romantic at heart after all—as I think are you, Leila.’

She looked at Alix, horror flooding her at the thought that he might think— She shook her head. She forced all the boneless, mushy feelings out of her body and head and said firmly, ‘No, I’m not. I’m a realist, and I know what this is—a moment in time. And I’m fine with that— believe me.’

Alix looked at Leila in the flickering candlelight. The island was soft and fragrant around them. Like her. Apparently he didn’t need to be worried that she’d got the wrong idea from Matilde, and he wasn’t sure why that thought wasn’t giving him more of a sense of comfort. What? Did he want her to be falling for him?

She had her profile towards him and he was stunned all over again at her very regal beauty. Totally unadorned and all the more astounding because of it. In the last couple of days her skin had lost its pale glow and become more rich. Her Indian heritage was obvious, giving her that air of exotic mystery. Her green eyes stood out even more.

He felt a pang of guilt when he recalled the conversation he’d had with Andres to set up the photo opportunity. It would be a far less intrusive photo than most of those he’d had taken with other women, so why did he feel so uncomfortable about it? And guilty...?

It didn’t help to ease his conscience when Leila looked at him then and he couldn’t read the expression on her face or in her eyes. It irritated him—as if she’d retreated behind a shield.

‘Do you think you’ll ever regain your throne in Isle Saint Croix?’

Alix blinked, jerked unceremoniously back to reality. Immediately he was suspicious—but then he felt ridiculous. She wasn’t some spy from Isle Saint Croix, sent to find out his movements.

Even so, Alix had kept his motivation secret for so long that he wasn’t about to bare his soul to anyone—even her.

He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Perhaps some day. If the political situation improves enough for me to make a bid for the throne again... But there is a lot of anger still—at my father.’

Leila had turned more towards him now, and put her elbows on the table, resting her chin on one hand. The diaphanous robe she was wearing made it easy to see the outline of her perfect braless breasts and Alix was immediately distracted. He had to drag his mind out of a very carnal place.

‘What was he like?’

The question was softly, innocently asked, and yet it aroused an immediate sense of rage in Alix. He felt restless, and got up to stand at the nearby railing that protected the terrace and looked down over the lawns below.

He heard Leila shift in her seat. ‘I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it...’

But he found that he did. Here in one of the quietest corners of the earth. With her.

He didn’t turn around. Tightly he said, ‘My father was corrupt—pure and simple. He grew up privileged and never had to ask for anything. It ruined him. His own father was a good ruler, but weak. He let my father run amok. By the time my father married my mother—who was an Italian princess from an ancient Venetian family line—he was out of control. The country was falling apart, but he didn’t notice the growing poverty or dissent. My mother didn’t endear herself to the people either. She spent more time gadding around the world than on the island—in Paris, or London, or New York.’

Alix turned around and leant back against the railing. He looked down into his wine glass and swirled the liquid. When he looked at Leila again she was rapt, eyes huge. It made something in Alix’s chest tight.

‘My father took mistresses—local girls, famous beauties, it made no difference. He had them in the castle whether my mother was there or not. I think her attitude was that once she’d given him his heir and a spare she could do what she wanted.’

Leila said softly, ‘You had a younger brother...?’

Alix nodded. ‘Yes—Max.’

He went on.

‘One day, both my parents were in residence—which was a rare enough occurrence. A young local girl was trying to see my father, holding a baby, crying. Her baby was ill and she needed help. She was claiming that it was his—which was quite probable. My father had his soldiers throw her and the baby out of the castle...’

Alix’s mouth twisted.

‘What he didn’t realise was that a mob had gathered outside, and when they saw this they attacked. Our own soldiers were soon colluding with the crowd and they turned on my father and mother. They shot my parents and my brother, but I got away.’

Alix deliberately skated over the worst of it—made it sound less horrific than it had been.

He drank the rest of his wine in one gulp.

Leila’s eyes shone with what looked suspiciously like tears. It had a profound effect on Alix.

‘Your brother...were you close to him?’

He nodded. ‘The closest. Everything I do now is to avenge his death and to make sure it’s not in vain.’

He knew instantly that he’d said too much when Leila frowned slightly. Clearly she was wondering how his living the life of a louche royal playboy tallied with avenging his brother’s untimely death.

She didn’t know, of course, of the charitable foundations he headed that supported the families of people who’d lost relatives in traumatic circumstances. Or the amount of times he’d gone on peace and reconciliation missions all over the world, observing how it was done so he’d be qualified to apply it to his own country when he returned.

Leila looked at Alix, so tall and brooding in the moonlight. Her heart ached for him—for the young boy he’d been, helpless, watching his own parents destroy their legacy—and taking his younger brother with them.

She thought of how she’d lied about her father being dead and it made her feel dishonest now, after he’d told her what had happened to him.

‘Alix,’ she began, ‘there’s something I should—’

But he cut Leila off as he moved, coming over to the table. He put his glass down. His eyes were blazing and she could see they’d dropped to her breasts, unfettered beneath her thin gown. Instantly heat sizzled in her veins and she forgot what she’d wanted to say.

‘I think we’ve talked enough for one evening. I want you, Leila.’ And then, almost as an afterthought, he said, ‘I need you.’

I need you. Those three words set Leila’s blood alight. She sensed that he needed to lose himself after telling her what he had. So she stood up, allowing him to see all of her, thinly veiled. He might have said he needed her, but she knew that this was about this.

And as Alix led her inside and up to the bedroom she reassured herself once again that that was fine.

* * *

‘Who would have thought you like to read American noir crime novels?’ Leila’s voice was teasing as she lay draped across Alix’s chest on a large sun lounger in his garden.

He lowered his book and looked at her, arching a brow. ‘And that you would like Matilde’s collection of historical romance novels covered with half-naked Neanderthals and long, flowing blonde hair?’

Leila giggled and ducked her head, and then looked up again. ‘It was my mother’s fault. She devoured them and led me astray from a young age.’

‘You must miss her.’

Leila unpeeled herself from Alix and sat up, pulling her knees to her chin and wrapping her arms around them. She looked out over the stunning view from their elevated height in the garden at the back of the house, where the pool was.

Quietly, Leila said, ‘I miss her, of course. It was always just the two of us.’

Leila was afraid to look at Alix in case he saw the emotion she was feeling. A mix of grief and happiness. And gratitude to be in this place. To be with this man and yet to know not to expect more. Even if her heart did give a little lurch at that.

Alix came up on one elbow beside her, his long half-naked body stretched out in her peripheral vision like a mouthwatering temptation.

‘The man you were with before—what did he do to you?’

Leila glanced at him. Damn. She’d forgotten that she’d mentioned Pierre, even in passing. She shrugged. ‘He was a mistake. I was naive.’

‘How?’

Leila bit her lip, and then said, ‘It was just after my mother died—I was vulnerable. He paid me attention. I believed him when he said he just wanted to get to know me, that he wouldn’t push me. But one night he came up to my apartment and said he was tired of waiting for me to put out. He tried to force himself on me—’

Alix sprang upright in one fluid move and caught Leila’s arm, turning her to face him. Anger was blazing from his eyes. ‘Did he hurt you?’

Leila was shocked at this display of emotion. ‘No. He...he tried to, but I had some mace. I threatened to use it on him. So he just insulted me and left.’

‘Dieu...Leila...he could have—’

‘I know,’ Leila said sharply. ‘But he didn’t. Thank God. And I was proved a fool for believing that he—’

Alix’s hand tightened on her arm. ‘No, you weren’t a fool. You just wanted reassurance and some attention.’

Words trembled on Leila’s lips. Words about how much she’d wanted to believe that love and security did exist. Could exist. But she couldn’t let them spill. Not here, with this man. He’d made no promises. He was offering her this slice of paradise—that was all and if she’d been foolish before she’d be triply so if she started dreaming about anything more with a man like Alix.

He urged her gently back down onto the lounger and pushed their books aside. Tugging her over his chest again, he cupped the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. ‘The man was an idiot, Leila.’

He brought her mouth down to meet his and they luxuriated in a long and explicit kiss. Leila felt emotional—as if Alix was silently communicating his gratitude to her for trusting enough in him to let him be the one to take her innocence.

The kiss got hotter, more desperate. Alix’s free hand deftly untied the strings of her bikini and she felt the flimsy material being pulled from between their bodies. Then his hand was smoothing down her back, cupping her buttock and squeezing gently, and then more firmly, long fingers covering the whole cheek, exploring close to where the seam of her body was wet and hot.

Obeying the clamouring of her blood, Leila moved over Alix so that her legs straddled his hips, breasts pressed to his broad chest. With an expert economy of movement, barely breaking their connection, mouths and body, Alix managed to extricate himself from his shorts and disposed of Leila’s bikini bottoms too. Now there were no barriers between them.

Leila had got so used to their privacy being respected that she felt completely uninhibited. Her legs were spread and she could feel him, hard and potent, at her buttocks. Alix moved so that his erection was between them, and Leila luxuriated in moving her body up and down, her juices anointing his shaft, making him groan...making them both want more.

Until she couldn’t stand teasing him any more and rose up, biting her lip as Alix donned protection, and then letting her breath out in a long hiss as he joined their bodies and he was deep inside her. Nothing existed in the world except this moment. This exquisite climb to the top of ecstasy.