Читать книгу The Royal House Of Karedes: Two Kingdoms - Marion Lennox, Marion Lennox - Страница 15

WHAT did you wear to dine with royalty?

Probably nothing she’d packed, Maria thought unhappily as she followed Athenia to Alex’s bedroom.

Bedroom? Could you call a room this size a bedroom? It was bigger than her loft. Polished wood floors. Handmade rugs. A cathedral ceiling. Skylights. A wall of glass and, beyond it, a terrace and the pool that seemed to hang suspended over the bay.

And a bed.

A bed centered beneath the skylights, elevated on a raised platform, covered by a black silk comforter and a sea of black and white pillows as if it were a stage set.

“Madam will find her things hung in the dressing room.”

Maria swung toward Athenia. “Yes. I—I—Thank you.”

“Everything has been pressed, keeria, to your liking, I hope.”

“Thank you,” she said again. They seemed the only words she could manage.

The housekeeper smiled politely and shut the door behind her. Maria waited a couple of seconds, then turned the lock. She leaned back against the door, shut her eyes and inhaled deeply.

It was a handsome room. Hell, it was a magnificent room. And that bed…

Do not look at that bed, Maria. Do not even think about it.

She would not. She would shower and dress. She had twenty minutes. Not much time, but enough. Actually, she never took longer than that to get ready for a date. Except, this wasn’t a date. It was business. Business to be conducted at a palace.

She’d seen the palace—from the outside, anyway—the last time she was here.

It made Buckingham Palace look small.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Work yourself into a panic. That’s going to be a huge help!” Spine straight, she ignored the bed and marched across the room. This was an important night.

Indeed, it was. At the end of it, Alex was going to make love to her.

Maria rolled her eyes. It was stupid to let her thoughts wander. Of course, tonight was important. She had the commission; now, she had to make sure she had the hearts and minds of her clients.

Her clients. The king of Aristo and his queen. She’d come a long way from the phony Frenchman of L’Orangerie.

The dressing room made her laugh. Add some plumbing and most Manhattan residents would have happily called it an apartment. And there were her things, on a rack all by themselves, surrounded by other racks filled with men’s clothes. Alex’s clothes.

And no, she was not going to think about that now. Dinner was everything. It had to go well.

Her clothes, as Athenia had told her, had been pressed, hung and organized by color. Giddy laughter rose in her throat. Jeans and jeans and jeans, T-shirts and blouses and sweaters. Organized and pressed, and what in hell was there hanging in front of her she could wear to a palace?

Casual, Alex had said. Easy for him to say. And to do.

What was he going to wear? And where would he shower and dress?

Not here, and that was all that mattered. For all she knew, he kept a complete wardrobe in each bedroom. A mistress in each, too. Or maybe this was the way installing a new mistress was handled. Maybe his staff was trained to move some of the master’s clothes, just enough to get his latest conquest through the confusion of her first night here.

Stop it, Maria thought furiously.

She was most assuredly not Alex’s conquest, she was his—What would be the correct word? Never mind. She would not dwell on how or why she was in his bedroom, or the implications of it, either—or on the fact that his entire staff surely now understood she would be sleeping with him.

A dozen other women probably had gone this route. She lacked their experience in the art or business of being a kept woman but instinct told her that a woman who filled that role would not blush at such information being public.

She’d do her best not to blush, either.

Besides, Alex would not ‘keep’ her. The money for the commission didn’t come from him. It was for the design and execution of the queen’s birthday gift, and she would not accept so much as a penny for anything else.

A phone rang.

Maria looked around. There it was. A small white telephone on the wall of the dressing room. It rang again and she plucked it from its cradle, put it to her ear and said a careful, “Hello?”

“You’re down to twelve minutes, glyka mou.”

“Alexandros?”

“I like it when you call me that.”

His voice was husky. Why did that roughness always send a tingle along her skin?

“Alexandros!” She looked around wildly. “Where are you?”

He laughed. “Relax, sweetheart. I can’t see you—but I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re standing in the middle of my bedroom, trying not to look at the bed and wondering what on earth possessed you to bring nothing suitable to wear this evening.”

She blinked. “Wrong,” she said airily. After all, she was in the dressing room, not the bedroom, and she’d already wasted time trying not to look at the bed.

“Try the emerald silk dress and the black stiletto sandals. And before you tell me you won’t wear another woman’s cast-offs, let me assure you they aren’t. The dress and shoes were both delivered from the Chanel boutique in Ellos a couple of hours before we arrived.” His words took on that same sexy softness again. “I had to guess at the size, glyka mou, so I hope I got them right. Of course, we won’t have any such difficulties after tonight.”

Maria felt her entire body blush as she slammed the phone back onto its cradle. How dared he buy her clothes? Did he really think she’d wear anything he’d paid for?

There it was. The dress. And right below it, the shoes. Both were gorgeous. The brilliant color of the dress would be perfect with the delicately spiked heels. Exactly what she’d have bought for an occasion like this… if she’d been in a position to spend, what, ten thousand bucks?

She would not wear these things.

She would wear something of her own.

Black jeans. A white silk blouse. Dressy enough for dinner at an upscale New York restaurant… but for dinner at a palace? For what was, basically, a business meeting that was surely going to change her life?

“Damn you, Alexandros,” she said bitterly—and knew she had lost Round One.

She showered quickly, and never mind that the faint, clean scent of the hand-milled soap reminded her of Alex. The shampoo had the same effect. So what? Soap was soap, shampoo was shampoo. She towel-dried her hair—no time for anything else—and hurried into the dressing room.

There were more than shoes with the dress. There was a tiny black evening purse. And undies. A black lace bra. A black lace thong. The sheerest thigh-high nylons she’d ever seen.

She had her own underwear.

But not like this.

To hell with it.

She put on the bits of black lace, the sheer stockings. Hair loose or up? Maria peered into the mirror. Up. The mass of dark strands was too damp, too wild, too curly to leave loose. Finally, she slipped on the emerald silk dress. Stepped into the black sandals.

And saw herself in the mirror.

He had good taste, the Prince of Arrogance, she thought wryly. A career as a personal shopper could be his in the blink of an eye.

The dress was a perfect fit, demure and businesslike even as it made the most of her slender figure. The shoes were gorgeous. Straps that wound around her foot. Stiletto heels as thin as the blade for which they were named.

Could he possibly know shoes were her weakness?

No, she thought. The better probability was that they were his weakness. Maybe later tonight, he’d want her in the stilettos and nothing besides the black lace thong…

“Oh God,” she whispered, and felt her heart rate shoot into the stratosphere.

Jewelry, she thought numbly, because it was safer to think about that than about what happened to her body each time she imagined being in this room, in that bed, with the gorgeous Alexandros. How could you hate a man and still want him?

A question for another time, not for the one minute—the one minute she had left!

Fortunately, she’d dumped a couple of pieces of her stuff into her handbag. A twisted gold chain? No. A shorter one, intricately braided? No. A slender gold rope with a hunk of polished amber knotted at the center? Yes. Perfect. Small gold hoops in her ears. Had she forgotten anything? She certainly had. A quick swipe of mascara. Sheer cherry lip gloss. A dab of powder on her suddenly shiny nose.

She took a steadying breath. Another. Ready or not, she thought, and she unlocked the bedroom door.

He was right outside it, waiting for her.

‘Gorgeous’ was the wrong word to describe him. ‘Spectacular’ came closer, but it still didn’t quite cover it.

Say something, Maria told herself, but her brain was numb. She could only look at him as he stood leaning back against the cypress balustrade that enclosed the open loft, arms folded, ankles crossed, the very portrait of The Male Waiting for his Date. He wore a grey jacket, a black open-necked shirt, black trousers and darkest brown mocs. His hair was damp; he was freshly shaven…

He was beautiful. The in-the-flesh subject of a woman’s dreams, except she didn’t have dreams like those. Well, not until after that night they’d made love. Correction. That night they’d had sex, and look where that had led.

He said nothing. Showed nothing. Slowly, slowly enough to make her wonder if the dress didn’t look as good as she thought, his gaze traveled from the top of her head all the way to her toes, then back up again.

That was when he smiled. A slow, lazy, purely masculine curve of his lips that sent shock waves through her blood.

“Just one thing …” He reached out, took the clip from her hair and let all the wild curls tumble to her shoulders. “Perfect,” he said softly.

She had to stop herself from returning the compliment. Instead, she tossed her head as if it meant nothing. Damned if that didn’t make him grin.

“Shall we?” he said, holding out his hand.

Maria ignored the offer, brushed past him and went down the stairs.

His car was a low-slung, snarling crimson beast.

A Maserati. A Lamborghini. A Ferrari. One of those, she was certain, but what would a born-and-bred New Yorker know? Subway trains, yes. Automobiles, no. The only certainty was that he drove fast, too fast, with a macho assurance that she tried not to let impress her.

But it did.

Was there a female alive who wouldn’t be impressed by a man so beautiful it hurt to look at him, driving a car that rumbled like a big, predatory animal? One hand was curved over the steering wheel. The other rested lightly on the gear shift lever.

Such competent hands. So powerful. His hands had been all over her the night they’d met. She could still feel them, if she closed her eyes. His fingertips playing with her nipples. His thumbs gently parting her labia. Her shocked cries that had quickly turned to sobs of ecstasy.

She felt the instant bloom of warmth between her thighs.

“Something the matter?”

His voice startled her. She looked at him and thought it was a good thing he didn’t have X-ray vision or he’d see straight through her clothes, see that she was wet, that her nipples were peaked.

“Maria?”

I want you, she thought dizzily, that’s what’s the matter.

“Are you worried about dinner tonight?”

No, she thought, on a faint wave of hysteria, not dinner.

“Don’t be. This is just my family.”

Dinner. She had to remember that. He was talking about dinner.

“Oh,” she said, and caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

Alex felt his muscles contract. Did she have to look so beautiful? Did she have to worry her lip that way? Damn it, this was not good. He should never have kissed her in the guesthouse. He’d taken two cold showers before he got dressed and he was still hard with wanting her.

What if he pulled the car over, took her in his arms and nipped that sweet bottom lip himself? Just lightly enough to make her moan and sigh and beg him…

“Family?” she said, and he blinked.

“Uh, yes. Family. My older brother, Sebastian. My baby brother, Andreas. My sister Katarina—everyone calls her Kitty. The only one missing will be Elissa. She’s in Paris.”

“So many people?”

The tip of her tongue slicked over that softly bitten, now undoubtedly sensitive bottom lip. By the time they reached the palace, he’d be completely out of his mind. When had this woman assumed such power over him? It made him angry, and his words were more harsh than he’d intended.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous about meeting royalty, glyka mou. After all, you did fine with me the first time out.”

She swung toward him.

“I told you, I didn’t know who you were.”

“Right. You just happened to meet me on the street and when I suggested we go to bed, you said, hey, I have nothing else to do, so why not?”

It hadn’t been like that and he knew it. She’d been sweetly innocent; he’d seduced her with words, with caresses, with a need unlike any he’d ever experienced in all his thirty-one years. Except, it had all been a lie. She’d set him up. She had seduced him…

Hadn’t she?

“You know what, Alex?” she said, her voice shaking. “You’re a real bastard!”

She was right. What was between them was personal and had nothing to do with this evening’s gathering. Tonight was about plans for the national celebration of his mother’s birthday. Affairs of state came before everything else, a truth that had always been part of his life.

“Okay. Let’s start over. Ask me again about who’ll be at dinner tonight.”

Maria stared straight ahead. Alex sighed in resignation.

“You need to know these things, glyka mou. How else to prepare for the sight of Sebastian, who stands four feet tall and weighs three hundred pounds? Or to know that Andreas is in The Guinness Book of World Records for Worst Footballer of the Year?”

She swung toward him, as he’d hoped she would. “What?”

Alex grinned. “Don’t panic. We still tease Andreas over the time he missed six consecutive tries in a game—but we leave out the fact that he was only five years old at the time. As for Sebastian …” His grin broadened. “The truth is, except for a lack of hair anyplace but his knuckles and back, he’s not bad-looking. Well, he’s not as handsome as I am, of course …”

He couldn’t be.

Alex was joking, Maria knew. Still, what he’d said about being handsome was true. He was, without question, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen… And what did that have to do with anything? He was still exactly what she’d called him. No-good, self-centered and arrogant, and if she had not called him all those names yet, she surely would before the evening ended.

She sat back, folded her hands in her lap and told herself she’d get through whatever lay ahead because she had no other choice.

The Ferrari paused before the high gates outside the palace. A smartly uniformed soldier stepped from the guardhouse, approached, looked in at Alex, shot straight as a ramrod and delivered a perfect salute.

“Your Highness.”

“Stavros. It’s good to see you pretending to be a soldier again.” Maria looked at Alex in surprise. The soldier, still saluting, went on staring directly ahead. “Especially since we both know I can out-run, out-shoot, out-anything you choose when we have the chance to give it another try.”

The soldier’s lips twitched. “Your Highness is, as usual, full of, ah, full of air. Sir.”

Alex laughed and returned the salute. “At ease, Stavros. Good to see you back. The ankle’s okay?”

The soldier grinned. “It’s fine, sir. And your shoulder?”

“Good to go. You signed up for the next Games?”

“Absolutely, sir. And you?”

“Try and keep me away,” Alex said, smiling.

Another smart salute; the gates opened and they drove slowly down a wide, tree-lined avenue toward the broad marble steps that led to the front doors of the palace.

“You and that man know each other?” Maria said.

“For years. We went to nursery school together.” He smiled. “My mother’s modernist ideas won out that time. My father thought it was a mistake to educate me among what he tried not to call the commoners.”

“But he didn’t—I mean, the way he addressed you—”

“What’s the problem, sweetheart? Disappointed to find out some people don’t think of me as you do?”

He pulled up before the steps. A valet opened his door; another did the same for Maria. Ahead, the enormous entry doors swung open. To Maria’s surprise, she saw the world-famous King Aegeus and Queen Tia in the doorway.

“They asked me to bring you in through the Grand Hall,” Alex said softly as he moved around the car to stand beside her. “And they’re greeting you themselves. We are not as formal as some royal houses but still, this is an honor.” He offered her his arm. “Take it,” he said softly, “and smile, or my parents will think you hate me. And you don’t hate me, glyka mou. We both know that.”

“Wrong,” Maria said sweetly. “But why should I take it out on them?”

She put her hand lightly on his arm, took a deep breath, and let him lead her up the steps.

“… and so,” Princess Kitty said, “Alex convinced me that it was my royal obligation to sneak into the butler’s pantry to find out what our parents had bought us for Christmas—well, it wasn’t a butler’s pantry anymore, of course, it was just this huge room we store stuff in at the beach house at Kionia—has Alex told you about Kionia? Oh, it’s this incredible stretch of land overlooking the Strait of Poseidon that separates us from Calista, and our house is big and old and beautiful, and it’s all very laid-back, you know, I can go around dressed casually—”

“Sloppily, you mean,” Aegeus said, his tone harsh. “And why are we boring our guest with talk of childish pranks done years ago?”

The family dining room became silent. Kitty’s round, pretty face turned crimson. “Of course. Ms. Santos, my apologies.”

“Oh, please, don’t apologize.” Without thinking, Maria reached for the princess’s hand. “It’s lovely to hear stories like that. My own childhood wasn’t as much fun. No brothers. No sisters.” Suddenly, she realized that every eye was on her, and that she was hanging onto Kitty’s hand as if it belonged to Sela and not a princess. Flushed, she let go. “I mean—I mean, this has been such a lovely evening… You’ve all been so—so—”

“It’s been our pleasure, Ms. Santos,” the queen said gently.

“Please, won’t you all call me Maria?”

“Maria.” Tia smiled. “I hope you intend to see some of our island in the next few weeks.”

Maria shot a glance at Alex, who was calmly drinking his coffee. “If I have the chance.”

“I’m fascinated by the thought of such a slip of a girl designing and making such a magnificent necklace. I understand Alex has outfitted a workshop for you in his home on the coast.”

“Yes.” This time, Maria didn’t dare look at Alex. “He has.”

“And is it to your liking?”

What was the sense in lying? “Very much so, Your Majesty.

In fact, it’s better equipped than my own place in New York.”

“Good. If you should need anything more—”

“Well, I do need something. A couple of things, actually …”

“Such as?”

“Some information, to start. I understand that King Christos ordered the Stefani diamond, which had been the centerpiece of the crown of Adamas, to be split in two.”

She could almost feel the sudden tension in the room.

“I fail to see why the history of Adamas should be under discussion,” the king said stiffly.

Maria cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to pry, Your Majesty. It’s only that knowing the history of the diamond will help me in creating the necklace.”

“Nonsense. Gold and diamonds well help, not timeworn stories about the Stefani diamond and the islands of Aristo and Calista.”

Silence. Then Maria felt Alex clasp her hand under cover of the table and enfold it in his own.

“Maria is an artist, Father. Her creations are, in a sense, representations of a life force—in this case, a celebration of Mother’s birthday as well as the continuity of our people. She’s simply trying to gain some understanding of our kingdom. Isn’t that right, Maria?”

“Yes,” she said, staring at Alex, amazed he should instinctively comprehend what most people did not. “Stories, legends, history… those are some of the qualities my work is meant to convey.”

“Well, our history isn’t very complicated,” Sebastian said pleasantly. “The Kingdom of Adamas dates back to ancient Rome and Greece.”

“Yes,” Maria said again. “Alex told me it did.”

“Aristo was the island from which the kingdom was ruled. It grew wealthy on its trade routes with Greece, Turkey and Egypt,” Andreas said. “Calista had—has—its diamond mines. Pink diamonds. Very rare—but, of course, you know that.”

Alex squeezed her hand in reassurance.

“The Karedes family—our family—got fat and rich trading those diamonds to Europe.” He smiled wryly. “As you can probably imagine, the Calistans didn’t like that. My grandfather—”

“King Christos,” Maria said.

“Yes. He tried to alleviate the tension but it didn’t work, so he announced that on his death, he’d leave Aristo to be ruled by my father and Calista to be ruled by my father’s sister, Anya.”

“And the people accepted that?”

“What else could they do?” Sebastian said. “But Christos always hoped for a reconciliation. Part of what he said, when he made his decision public, was that he wished the two halves of the Stefani diamond would someday be reunited and that when they were, the island would also be reunited as one nation, the nation of Adamas. We call it Christos’s Legacy.”

Kitty nodded. “But it hasn’t happened.”

“That must have been a difficult time for everyone.” Maria looked at the king. “For you and your sister, especially, sir.”

“It’s all in the past,” Aegeus snapped. “And I fail to see a need to go through it with a stranger.” He tossed his napkin on the table. “You are to make a necklace for the queen, Ms. Santos, not write our family’s history.”

“Just a minute,” Alex began, but Maria spoke first.

“My sole interest is in making the necklace as meaningful and perfect a gift as possible, sir.” She sounded composed but Alex recognized that distinct, don’t-screw-with-me lift of her chin. “I regret that you don’t see it that way.”

Alex bit back a grin. His Maria had been nervous about dining with royalty, but she sure as hell had the balls to stand up to Aegeus. His brothers were trying not to smile; his sister looked as if she might fly from her seat, grab Maria and kiss her. The queen gave a soft cough and covered her mouth with her napkin.

Aegeus looked as if he weren’t sure if he’d been insulted or not. Finally he nodded, shoved back his chair and got to his feet.

The meal was over.

“Perhaps I overreacted, Ms. Santos. At any rate, a perfect gift is my wish, too. And now, if you require nothing further—”

“Actually,” Maria said carefully, “actually, sir, I do.”

Aegeus stared at her. So did the others. You could push the king just so far and then you had to stand back before the explosion.

“Do you, indeed?” he said coldly.

Maria looked determined but she was shaking. Enough, Alex decided, and, despite all the eyes on her, he moved closer and slipped his arm around her shoulders. At first, she stiffened. Then he felt her lean into him.

“It’s—it’s a request, sir.” She took a deep breath. “I’d like to see the Aristan crown.”

“You have seen it,” the king said coolly. “My people provided you with photographs.”

“Photos aren’t the same as the real thing, Your Majesty.”

“Impossible. For security purposes, the crown is kept in the royal vaults.”

“Surely, it can be taken out of the vaults, Father,” Alex said quietly.

“There is no need.”

“Oh, but there is, sir,” Maria said quickly. “I need to be certain the center diamond in the necklace, the big pink one, will be the correct shade. A diamond’s true color can never be conveyed through a photo, no matter how good the photo is.”

“You mentioned color in your proposal. That is the reason I provided you with two large pink stones rather than one.” The king’s lips twisted. “Surely you noticed that.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. And I very much appreciate that thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, and expensive, Ms. Santos.”

“It was a generous thing to do, sir.” Maria drew a breath. “But there are slight variations in the colors of the two pink diamonds. That’s all the more reason for seeing the crown.”

“I refer you, again, to the photographs. I have been assured that digital photos are quite accurate.”

“Not when it comes to color,” Maria said with quiet determination. “Plus, I need to see, to touch the Aristan half of the Stefani diamond.” She flushed. “Stones have a way of speaking to those who work with them, sir. I know it may sound strange—”

“Strange?” Aegeus snorted. “It would seem I was correct in fearing this young woman might be a leftover flower child,” he said to no one in particular, “instead of a jewelry maker.”

“Actually, Father,” Alex said coldly, “Maria is neither.” He felt her body jerk against his. Deliberately, he drew her closer. “She is an artist, and we are very fortunate she agreed to create this piece.” His eyes met Aegeus’s. “I think you owe her an apology.”

The king’s face turned red. No one spoke for what seemed an eternity. Then the queen cleared her throat, stood and took her husband’s arm.

“Aegeus, Alexandros. Please, let’s not spoil the wonderful plans for my birthday celebration. I am so excited about this necklace… Just think, Aegeus, the entire world will be watching when you present it to me. The necklace should, indeed, be as perfect as Ms. Santos can make it, should it not? It should glow with the same light as the Aristan crown, especially since you’ll be wearing the crown that night.”

Silence. A muscle knotted in Alex’s jaw. Then he nodded.

“Mother is right, Father. I’m sorry if I seemed rude, but I spoke the truth. Maria’s talent will ensure that people everywhere will talk of Aristo, its crown and the queen’s matching necklace for years to come.”

The king stood as still as a statue. Then, at last, he jerked his head in assent.

“I’ll make the arrangements. Ms. Santos, you shall have five minutes with the crown and the Stefani diamond. Five minutes, and not a second more. Is that clear?”

Maria stepped free of Alex’s encircling arm and made a deep curtsy.

“It is, sir. And thank you. You won’t regret your decision.”

Aegeus looked at her. A shadow seemed to pass over his face.

“I hope not,” he said, and strode away.

They drove back to the mansion in silence.

The gates swung open; the Ferrari purred down the long drive. When they reached the house, Alex turned off the engine, stepped from the car, opened Maria’s door and thought what an amazing woman she was.

Bright. Talented. Strong.

And lovely.

Incredibly lovely, in the moonlight.

She would be even more lovely in his bed.

Naked. Her eyes on his as he undressed. Her arms reaching for him as he came to her and she would reach for him, he would find a way to make her admit how much she wanted him—and yet, at this moment, what he wanted most was to kiss away the worried furrow between her eyes, the sad little down-curve of her mouth.

He held out his hand. “We’re home,” he said softly.

She nodded, took his hand and stepped from the car.

“Your father will probably send me back to the States tomorrow.”

Alex smiled. “No danger of that,” he said as they walked to the door. “He’s trapped. My mother, clever woman that she is, reminded him that the world will be watching when she celebrates her birthday.”

“Don’t try and make it sound as if I didn’t behave foolishly!”

“The word I’d use is ‘bravely.’”

“I don’t know what got into me. It’s just—”

“What got into you,” he said, turning her to him, “was all that fiery passion you do your best to hide.”

“I don’t hide anything. I just—”

“And you do a pretty good job of it—until something comes along and heats your blood.” He opened the door to the sleeping house, then turned toward her again and caught a cluster of silky curls in his fingers. “Tonight, it was the ridiculous behavior of a king.”

“No. I mean, I only—”

“And your dedication to your art.”

“That’s—that’s nice of you to say, but I made everyone uncomfortable——”

“And me.” His voice roughened. He cupped the nape of her neck, slipped his fingers into her hair and tilted her face to his. “I heat your blood, agapimeni. As you heat mine.”

He bent his head and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, the soft whisper of his lips over hers, but it made him groan.

“Maria,” he said softly, and he felt her tremble. “Maria,” he said again, and her arms rose, wound around his neck; she lifted herself to him, sighed his name and when he kissed her again he went deep. Deeper, letting the taste of her fill his senses, the feel of her feed his soul…

And he knew, without question, that he could not, would not hold her to the devil’s bargain they’d made.

Gently, he cupped her face and drew back. Her eyes opened slowly; she looked up at him, her pupils dark and wide and blurred with desire or perhaps with tears. It killed him that he couldn’t tell the difference.