Читать книгу The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 87

There were just three of them, and too much food, left at the shady outdoor table. The scent of roses drifted on the breeze. Adam sat with his phone pressed to his ear, and though Lexie wasn’t actively listening she couldn’t help hearing him patiently placating whoever was on the other end.

They had spent a pleasant afternoon together yesterday. She was slowly getting used to the concept of their engagement, and she certainly felt comfortable with Adam. They talked easily about so many subjects: Shakespeare, gardening, his charities, his work with the government. And when there were silences, they were companionable. They didn’t thrum with tension and anticipation. Not like—

She glanced at Rafe, the other person at the table, leaning back easily in his chair, his meal half-eaten, watching both her and Adam. He’d come late to the lunch. A shaggy gray dog, close to the size of a small horse, lay at his side, its eyes following Rafe’s every movement.

“The dog’s yours?”

“I’ve moved on from frogs.”

She met his smile, felt the curious warmth it inevitably stirred. “What’s his name?”

“Duke.”

“What breed?”

“Irish wolfhound.”

And there was that silence again. Even with Adam beside her talking, the short distance, the width of a table between her and Rafe was filled with the tension of thoughts and words not spoken. Of mistaken touches. Why did he fascinate her so, and how did she stop it?

He lifted his glass in a silent, almost insolent, toast to her.

“I apologize, Alexia.” Adam disconnected his call. “Only half a dozen people have my private number. And they only call if it’s important.”

He hadn’t given the number to her. Not like—She cut off that thought. “It’s okay, I understand. There must be incredible demands on your time.”

“There are, and there always will be—” he covered her hand with his “—but they’re not so important that I wouldn’t rather spend my time with a beautiful woman.”

He was talking about her? He meant well, but probably had no idea how rehearsed and…insincere he sounded.

Adam turned to his suddenly coughing brother and thumped him lightly on the back. He didn’t see the unholy amusement dancing in Rafe’s eyes.

Lexie focused on Adam. “Are you still okay for riding the palace grounds this afternoon?”

“Absolutely. I have a couple more phone calls to make first. We’ll meet in an hour.”

Time together, doing something she loved and that Adam had assured her he, too, enjoyed, would surely be good.

“And tonight, I’ve planned a dinner. It’ll be just the two of us.” He smiled, real warmth in his eyes. Eyes that weren’t the same dark honey as Rafe’s, didn’t have the simmering depths or the hint of cynicism or mystery about them, or even that sporadic amusement. But nice eyes.

His phone rang again. He looked at her. “I really am sorry about this, Alexia.”

“Please, it’s okay. I’ll go get changed.”

She stood as Adam answered his call. Both men stood, as well, a courtesy she still wasn’t used to. Her gaze went to Rafe’s, to eyes that saw too much. His gaze was carefully neutral now.

Rafe watched his brother as he finished his third call and turned to him. “No,” he said, before Adam could ask.

It didn’t stop him. “Take Alexia for the ride through the grounds for me, Rafe? Please.”

Rafe dipped a chunk of bread in extra-virgin olive oil, pressed from the palace’s olive grove. “Take her yourself.”

“I can’t. You heard that phone call.”

“She could walk the labyrinth.” That was a nice, solitary, time-consuming activity.

“She’s walked it already.”

“Then get Rebecca to take her riding. They get along well. It’ll be nice for both of them.”

“Rebecca’s spending the afternoon with Alexia’s mother. Dad’s in Paris. You’re the only one of us even close to available. It will only take a couple of hours.”

“She’s here to get to know you, not me.”

“We spent all yesterday together.” Adam at least had the grace to sound defensive.

“Ah, yes, the inner workings of the museum, dark, dusty corridors. You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

“Alexia enjoyed the museum. She has a keen interest in history. Particularly the history of San Philippe.”

Alexia. Lexie. Sexy Lexie, whom he’d been doing his best to avoid without being obvious about it. Sexy Lexie, whose hair he wanted to unpin and plunge his fingers into. Whose neck he wanted to kiss. Whose laughter he wanted to hear. Whose lips—Mustn’t think about that. The same mantra he’d repeated silently whenever he was in her company and too often even when he wasn’t. “Are you sure she enjoyed it? She’s polite. She even managed to look interested when Humphrey was haranguing her at the dinner the other night.”

“He wasn’t, was he?”

“He was. Which you would have known if you’d been paying attention.”

“Some of us have other demands on our attention.”

Rafe let the implication that he had no demands on his pass. “Which is why you should make the time to ride the grounds with her.”

“Fine. I will. You take my place as the chair of the meeting on the Global Garden. There’s an updated dossier you’ll need to read. Martin can brief you, as well. It should only take an hour, two at the most, to bring you up to speed. And the meeting itself, if you keep dissent under control, will be another two. Just be careful to keep a lid firmly on the diplomatic fracas threatening to blow up in our faces. Our so-called ambassador has been treading on toes again.”

“Okay, you win. I think I’ll put her on Rebecca’s gray mare.” Martyrdom had only so much to recommend it. Though he knew he was letting himself in for an altogether different kind of torture.

Adam smiled, looking suspiciously like their father. “You don’t think Specter might be a little jittery for her?”

“Lexie’s a good rider. Specter will be just perfect.” And if he chose the most restive of his own horses, then he’d have enough to think about other than Sexy Lexie. “But are you sure you can trust me? She’s a beautiful woman.”

Adam laughed. “Neither of us has ever broken the pact. You’re hardly about to start now.”

Years ago, it had become apparent to the young princes that many of the women they went out with just wanted to date, and possibly marry, a prince. Any prince. If it didn’t work out with Adam they made up to Rafe, and vice versa. One wine-sodden evening, the brothers had made a pact to never date a woman the other had dated first. The pact had outlived any and all relationships. So far.

“Besides, she’s too serious and too intellectual to interest you.” It was as if they were talking about different women. Rafe saw her serious intellectual side, but he also saw the playful, impulsive woman she was, the side she hid from Adam because she didn’t think it was regal enough.

“And,” Adam announced with the triumph of someone playing a trump card, “she’s too young for you.”

Rafe just looked at his older brother.

“Spare me the look. I realize that you’re closer in age to her. But unlike you, I usually date women younger than me.”

“You’re right.” At least in theory. “But I like her, Adam. And she really wants this to work with you.”

“I want it to work, too.”

“Then spend some time with her.”

“As soon as I can. If Dad hadn’t been so hell-bent on getting this under way, it could have been properly scheduled.”

Rafe stared at his brother in incomprehension. Properly scheduled? If it was scheduled, you missed the chance of seeing her dancing with her eyes closed, oblivious to the crowd around her, missed seeing her in the moonlight beneath an oak, eyes glittering in the dark, missed the illicit thrill of hearing her laughter as you ran away from a royal dinner with her, missed the surreptitious glances at her as she ran beside you in the gym, ponytail swinging, a droplet of sweat trickling down her chest between her breasts. Instead, his brother wanted to schedule things. Properly.

He studied Adam, could see his mind already weighing solutions to the impending diplomatic problem. “You will do right by her, won’t you?”

Adam’s eyes widened. “That’s a little rich, coming from you, but yes, of course I will. I’ve planned a dinner for tonight. Something special. Candles, soft music. I’ll propose properly, give her the engagement ring I’ve had made.”

Rafe tamped down on a flare of something suspiciously close to jealousy. He’d never felt the emotion before, never thought he’d feel it for Adam, whose life he was only grateful he’d escaped.

“And tonight I’ll stay awake for the drive home.”

Rafe sat forward. “You’ll what? Are you saying you—”

“Fell asleep in the limo on the way back from dinner the other night. Hey,” he said with a shrug, as he took in Rafe’s stunned expression. “I was tired. It had been a long day.”

“You fell asleep?” How did a man fall asleep in Lexie’s presence when her proximity had every sense leaping to attention?

“I won’t be so tired tonight,” Adam said.

Trying to banish thoughts of Adam—not tired—with Lexie, Rafe left.

Dappled sunlight filtered through the forest canopy. The wooded trail widened, allowing Rafe to urge his mount forward and draw abreast of Lexie. Duke trotted alongside them. Rafe had thought initially that staying behind her, where they wouldn’t be able to talk, where he wouldn’t see her smile or her green, green eyes, was the better option. But he’d quickly realized that the flare of her hips and the curve of her derriere were a different and possibly worse distraction. He shifted in his saddle.

“This meeting Adam had to go to?” the woman who might one day be his sister-in-law asked. They’d been riding for nearly an hour, and this was the first time she’d brought up Adam’s absence, the first time she’d asked anything other than polite questions about the land around them and the flora and fauna of San Philippe.

Her hair was gathered into a lush ponytail that hung down her back. It swept over her shoulder blades when she turned.

“The Global Garden. Someone’s bright idea for the anniversary celebrations that has not surprisingly turned into a diplomatic nightmare. Adam has been involved—albeit reluctantly—since its inception. Trust me, he’d much rather be here than there.” All three of them would have been happier with that. Particularly Lexie.

“I’d have been happy to ride on my own, or to put it off. Adam has said he’ll definitely be free tomorrow.” She confirmed his suspicion.

She held the reins lightly in her small, deft hands. Hands a man could imagine touching him. He cleared his throat. “Rain and thunderstorms are predicted for tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

For a while the only sound was the soft fall of their horses’ hooves on the forest floor. She sat so well on Rebecca’s gray, moved so in tune with it, that horse and rider looked almost to be one. And he was torturing himself with thoughts of her, thoughts that teetered on the brink of inappropriate or occasionally slipped over that edge. Thoughts that urged him to act. The torture was exquisite and unbearable. Distance. He needed distance.

“I hope it’s not too much of an interruption to your day.” There was a bite to her tone.

“No,” he said evenly. “I ride most days when I’m home.”

“So do I,” she said with a glimmer of wistfulness and no trace of acerbity.

“You’re not sorry you came, are you?” Perhaps she’d go back. He couldn’t fathom whether he’d be more relieved or disappointed.

“No, definitely not. I love it here. I just don’t want to be in the way.” She slid him a look rich with meaning.

“You’re not in the way.”

“I hear the frustration in your voice.”

And if only she knew its real cause. “Don’t assume it’s because of you.”

“You have other sources of frustration?”

“I have sources of frustration you wouldn’t believe. Duke,” he called back the dog, who had disappeared into the undergrowth.

“What would you have been doing if Adam hadn’t asked you to babysit me?” The question was laced with challenge.

“You’re far from a baby, Lexie.” Far, far from it. “And being with you is not a chore.” Except for all the work it entailed in keeping his thoughts in order.

“You’re forgetting I heard you use almost exactly those words.”

“I was annoyed with Adam at the time. It was nothing to do with you.” Which was a lie; it was a lot to do with her, because even back then he’d known that spending time with her was a bad thing for him to do, that there was something different, almost dangerous about her and the way she affected him.

“So, what would you be doing if you weren’t filling in for Adam?”

“Nothing,” he said casually.

“That’s funny, because I saw you in your office earlier.”

“When?” He certainly hadn’t seen her this morning.

She shrugged. “The middle of the morning. I was on my way back to my room and I passed your office.”

“And?”

“And you were inside. At your desk. Talking on the phone and writing something down at the same time. You sounded busy.” She shot him a look. “And serious and authoritative even. The glasses were a nice touch, too, very sexy in a scholarly way.” She stopped speaking and frowned. “If you like that sort of thing,” she added.

Rafe ignored the glasses comment; otherwise he might be tempted to ride back to the palace for a pair. It was true, though, that he’d had dozens of phone calls to make this morning. “Appearances can be deceptive. Maybe I was doodling.”

“Doodling?” It was worth it to see her smile like that. “Anyway,” she said, “I appreciate you taking time out for me like this.”

“You or phone calls and paperwork. It wasn’t a difficult choice.” It also wasn’t a safe choice.

“Was it for the zoo or for the children’s ward at the hospital?”

He looked at her.

“I’ve been trying to find out a little about the work you do. All of you.”

“How?”

“I’ve been talking to Adam’s secretary, Martin. He was quite helpful. He told me about the different charities and foundations you all head or are patrons of. The list was massive. He also talked about your personal project to raise money for a hospital gymnasium. And about how you coach and sponsor the polo team you started for the children of palace staff. His son loves it, by the way.”

“Martin Junior’s one of the best and the keenest players. The kid’s always there ahead of time, waiting. No matter how early I get there.” Rafe smiled at the thought. “He’s all restless energy till you seat him on a horse.”

But he didn’t want to be talking to this woman about himself. Didn’t want to see or appreciate the warmth of her approval.

He did what he did for his own reasons, lived by his own code as much as that was possible for someone in his position. He’d long since stopped placing importance on anyone else’s good opinion. That way he didn’t have to worry about disappointing others or being disappointed in return.

“I’d love to come and watch them train.” There was a question in her statement.

The fact that he wanted to show her the kids, to show her how good they’d gotten, warned him against that very course of action. “Have Adam bring you along sometime.”

She tried to hide her surprise at the rebuff he’d meant to be subtle.

“We each have our charities and other duties.” He kept talking to soften the slight. She had to know it was for the best. Unless he was the only one fighting inappropriate thoughts and longings? “I get to choose the fun ones. Adam’s duties, as next in line to the throne, tend to be more political than mine.”

“He’s very diplomatic, isn’t he?”

“Yes. And the Global Garden is one he just can’t avoid. It’s too time sensitive as well as ridiculously politically sensitive. Adam knows all the intricacies and, more important, knows how to calm the waters.”

“I understand that. But do you think you could try to explain it to me? In case the workings and considerations involved are the sort of thing I should understand, if, you know…”

If—when—she married Adam and became crown princess. “It’s almost incomprehensible to think that it all began two years ago. But that’s the way with these things.”

She looked at him, her green eyes bright and curious.

“No. I can’t explain it.” He didn’t want her hanging off his words, even if it was for the benefit of his brother. Adam could tell her himself. He could have her looking at him like that. He at least would be able to do something about it. He at least could touch that skin, taste those lips.

“Can’t?” Her face clouded over.

“Don’t want to.” He’d done it again. Proving he wasn’t half the diplomat his brother was. He was too blunt, didn’t have time for couching messages carefully so that people understood what he meant without upsetting delicate sensibilities. “It’s deathly boring.” That was as much of a softening as he’d give her. “If you really want to know about it, ask Adam himself. He’ll be thrilled that you’re interested. Or Martin. I’d only bore us both.”

“Maybe I want to be bored.”

He hoped Adam appreciated the sacrifices she was making for him. “Maybe I don’t want to be the one boring you.”

The trail widened further as the forest gave way to a grassy valley. He needed to get some distance and perspective here. If he was going to have to spend time with her, then it would be on his terms.

“Come on.” He urged his horse to a canter as Duke raced ahead. Rafe heard the sound of Lexie’s horse behind him, and even more rewarding, a burst of her laughter. She pulled alongside, her expression exhilarated. Surely this was better than boring her. He urged Captain on faster still, up the gentle rise. Lexie stayed by his side. At the top they reined back to a walk. For three hundred and sixty degrees around and below them the palace grounds—forest and farmland—spread out, and beyond that the country of San Philippe itself. On the rise ahead of them stood what remained of an ancient stone church. And now that he had the chance to look behind them, he saw the gathering clouds that the forest canopy had obscured.

Lexie twisted in her saddle to take in the view. “Look. You can see the castle turrets over the treetops. It’s all so beautiful. Magical, almost.”

So was the glow in her cheeks and eyes. Nothing boring there. “Forecast was out. It’s going to rain a whole lot sooner than tomorrow.”

She didn’t let his pronouncement dampen her enthusiasm. “I love the rain.”

She was in some faraway fantasy land. “Even when it’s soaking you to your skin?”

She looked at him then. “Not so much then. Unless a warm bath is waiting.”

Did she do that deliberately? Conjure up those erotic images? Though in truth, the soaked-to-the-skin one, clothes and hair plastered to her body, blouse all but see-through, was his vision alone. But the bath—the bath image—she was responsible for. He could too easily picture her stepping—bare, slender leg lifted, toes pointed—into a deep, bubble-filled bath, sinking low, letting the heated water rise up her body, over the gentle curve of hips and waist, caressing her breasts.

“Rafe?” she asked, and he got the feeling it might have been the second, if not the third time she’d spoken his name.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I was thinking.” About you naked. Bad, unbrotherly thoughts about a woman whose only thoughts were about his brother. The twisted mess was surely some kind of divine retribution for earlier misdemeanors.

The first fat drop of rain fell on his hand. It was followed quickly by more. Lexie lifted her face up and closed her eyes, just as she had on the nightclub dance floor, drinking in the pure sensory experience. Would she do that when she made love?

“Come on, we’d better turn back.”

“We could shelter in that old church over there.”

He followed her gaze to the church. “No. Roof’s mostly missing.” In truth he didn’t think sheltering there alone with Lexie was a good idea. Being alone anywhere with Lexie didn’t seem like a good idea. He had to keep his distance and get her back to the palace. No matter what. She was going to dinner with Adam tonight. She wanted to marry Adam. “We’re better off heading back. This will blow through quickly enough.”

The rain fell more heavily. They were going to get wet. Soaked to the skin, even. It seemed the lesser of two evils.

Rafe urged his horse forward, not looking to see that she followed.

Back at the palace, Rafe led Lexie across the courtyard. Duke’s nails clicked quietly on the wet cobbles as he walked beside them. Rafe was almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief. He’d done it. The ordeal was almost over.

Needing to change into dry clothes, they’d left their horses in the care of grooms. The rain had been light and brief. Partially sheltered by the forest canopy, they’d gotten wet, but not soaked. Fortunately.

Or not, depending on your perspective.

Rafe kept his gaze straight ahead as they made their way into the palace, taking a back route to their suites. The fabric of Lexie’s blouse wasn’t so thin that it was plastered to her body, but it clung in certain places. And it wasn’t transparent…precisely. But he knew her bra was pale blue, possibly with white polka dots.

“It must have been fun growing up here,” Lexie said as they started up a sweeping staircase. She ran her fingers along the carved, curving balustrade. A caress, almost.

A muted noise that Rafe couldn’t quite place sounded somewhere above them. “I guess. Though I didn’t always appreciate it.” He looked up to the second floor. The art gallery was up there.

“Naturally. You need perspective for that. And you can’t get perspective till you’ve lived somewhere else. Experienced somewhere different.”

Like she was changing his perspective on women. Or perhaps the women he’d known before made him appreciate Lexie.

“Did you ever run away?”

“A couple of times. It was pretty difficult. The security staff kept the challenge interesting. You?”

“A few times. I used to hide in the woods. You know, the ones—”

“Yeah. I know.” Those same woods he’d found her in. “My specialty was hiding within the palace.”

“Really?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“You just seem a little…conspicuous.”

“Maybe not so conspicuous when I was ten. And parts of this palace are hundreds of years old. There are hiding places galore. Or just places to avoid notice. There’s a room at the top of the south turret with views forever, and even to this day it’s almost never used.” He patted a gleaming suit of armour at the top of the staircase. “The armour was too hard to get into without help. And even if you managed it, you were stuck in it.”

“But you tried?”

“Makes an unbelievable racket when you fall over.”

Lexie laughed, but Rafe finally placed the other sound he’d been hearing coming from the gallery and growing louder. He muttered a curse.

“What?”

“Schoolchildren. Blasted anniversary. It was in this morning’s briefing, but I’d forgotten. Come on.” He grabbed her hand, headed along the hallway, past the stern gazes of the portraits hanging on the walls.

Lexie was laughing still. “I didn’t know children scared you so much.”

“It’s not just the children, it’s their cameras.” His gaze dipped to her breasts. “I don’t think this is the look the royal brand needs right now.” And no one else needed to know her bra was pale blue. With white dots.

Her gaze followed his and her eyes widened. “Oh, help. I hadn’t realized.” Her giggles grew louder.

Duke still at their side, they ran the last few steps to the door he wanted. Rafe reached for the handle just as he heard a high-pitched shout of “Look!” and pulled her into the room, shutting the door behind them. Lexie leaned back against the door, her slender frame shaking with laughter.

Rafe was laughing, too, as his hands slid up, gripping her arms. “Shh.” They were making too much noise.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, her mirth brimming over.

His hands reached her shoulders, curved round them. She had no idea what she did to him. How hard he fought her.

“I’m trying.” She laughed harder, her eyes dancing. “Really I am.”

And Rafe caved in. He stepped closer and covered those laughing lips with his and absorbed her delight as he drank in the taste of her.

Lexie stilled beneath him. A strange, hesitant pause, and then she was kissing him back, swept along with him. Rafe tasted the joy of her. His hands cupped her jaw, fingers sliding into her damp hair, as his tongue learned the sweet, hot ecstasy of her mouth. He felt her growing hunger. A hunger the echo of his own. Felt the heat and fire that was pure Lexie.

It had happened like this at the masquerade ball. The kiss gathering a life of its own, turning heat to glowing embers to blistering flames in an instant.

He’d known he desired her, but he’d denied it. What he hadn’t known enough to even refute was the fathomless depth of that desire. There was no denying it now.

The final shreds of rational thought deserted him as the damp breasts that had tormented him for the last and longest twenty minutes of his life were finally pressed against his chest. The supple length of her molded and moved against him.

He closed his eyes, lost in intoxicating sensation.

Hunger and need swamped him as he drowned in the feel of her. Never had anyone’s mouth, anyone’s body fit so perfectly against his. Never had any woman enflamed his desire as she did. His hunger had him craving. He could kiss her forever and ever and still want to go on tasting and learning her sweet perfection.

His woman. He wanted her. And no one else.

He slid his thigh between hers, felt the exquisite and needy pressure of her as she bore down on him. Rocked, just a little. He slipped his hand beneath her blouse. The cold skin of his palm touched the damp heated curve of her waist. She gasped and froze.

The hands that had been gripping his shoulders suddenly flattened and pushed.

Too late, Rafe remembered with sickening clarity precisely who he was with.

He pulled back, breathing hard. He swallowed, and for once was lost for words. What was he supposed to say? This kiss, unlike their others, had been no accident.

There had been no masks. He’d known precisely who she was as he lowered his mouth to hers.

There had been no thoughts of a peck on the cheek.

He’d aimed for her lips.

Officially, only to silence her laughter. But un officially…that had been an excuse. He’d wanted her kiss. And the instant his lips had touched hers he’d wanted everything from her. All of her.

His brother’s woman.

Damn.

Her blouse had slipped from one shoulder, and through his shock he saw that the dots were in fact tiny white daisies. So innocent. A woman who wanted a fairy tale. Which made him the evil villain. He turned away from the distress in her eyes, and away from the reproach in Duke’s. And realized he’d led her to a bedroom. That part at least had been unintentional.

He strode past the bed to look out the window, giving himself time to gather his thoughts, giving Lexie time to right her blouse and gather her words for the verbal lashing he deserved.

The silence stretched on. Outside, a team of gardeners shoveled mulch around the rose garden. “Lexie, that shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have done that.

I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Her quiet voice carried to him. Not angry as she should have been, but distressed. He turned in time to see her striding through the doorway, her blouse hanging loose and untucked at one side.

“Lexie.”

She didn’t turn, didn’t so much as pause or even slow.