Читать книгу His Princess in the Making - Melissa James - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

Two weeks later

“IT’S a truly beautiful country. It’s a shame so much of it has been torn to pieces by the warring factions,” Toby said, sounding deeply thoughtful.

From beside him in the bullet-proof town car, Lia nodded. Every time she visited a new town or village shattered by the Orakis family’s attempts to regain control, she wanted to cry. She felt so helpless, so inadequate to do all that was needed to help this beautiful, medieval country heal its scars.

How ridiculous was it that, by an accident of birth, the only choice Hellenia had for her next leader was a hereditary lord with the destructive tantrums of a two-year-old throwing his blocks, and two Australians who knew no more about ruling a nation than that spoiled baby? If it wasn’t for Jazmine…

“Charlie’s ideas are working very well—the village training system and paying for apprenticeships—and your charities and law repeals for widows, divorced women and orphans are making you a heroine in the nation.”

Lia flushed. “I’m just doing what has to be done. Anyone would have done it.”

“What, giving away a third of your fortune thus far to found refuges for women whose male family members are exploiting them? Using your second ancestral home in Malascos as an orphanage? I doubt five percent of the population would have done that.” He added softly, “Papou and Yiayia would be proud of you.”

Moved by the simple tribute, she smiled, glowing with the praise. She hadn’t felt alone since he’d come here. She had her friend back… but not a brother.

She flushed and looked away at the thought. No, not even almost a brother.

“I see why you and Charlie feel needed here.”

Attention arrested, she swung back to face him. He’d been silent on every other trip, unless she’d wanted to talk. He’d returned to being her best and supportive, wonderful friend…almost. And it was the “almost” that made her feel on edge. “Do you?”

As if he understood the turmoil creating storms inside her, he smiled. “Did you think I wouldn’t? I’ve lived with you fourteen years, Giulia. I know your sense of duty, your need to help others if you can. I saw it long before you began volunteer work in the eating-disorder clinic.”

She relaxed. Thank goodness, there were no undercurrents in that comment. But she found herself wondering why there weren’t. “Yes, that’s it. I feel like I’m finally where I’m meant to be.”

“I can see that,” he said softly. “Just because I want you in my arms, in my bed, doesn’t mean I’m not still your best friend, and I’m not blind.”

She stopped the gasp before it emerged, but his voice, the very air around them was filled with a dangerous, warm undertow that terrified her because it made her want so much. Want him.

He moved a finger, just one finger, just one millimetre, a tiny caress on the sensitive skin beneath her jaw—and she was lost to everything but the thick, heated pounding of her blood, the want. Her head fell back, only a tiny movement, but she knew and he knew. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t ask him to—couldn’t tear her gaze from his, deep, shadowed face in the gathering dusk surrounding the car. The word was screaming in her mind but her mouth wouldn’t work. Why?

As if he knew—of course he did—he answered, still filled with the rich, rumpled sensuality his gravelled voice could do so well. “You said you didn’t believe my words, Giulia. So now I’m showing you what I want.”

His finger moved again, trailing down the tender part of her throat. “Golden silk,” he murmured, his gaze following his finger, and she shivered. “I’ve always wanted to touch it.”

And she’d always wanted him to. She wanted that, and so much more. She wanted to curve her hand around his neck and into his dark-and-golden hair. She’d longed to run her fingers through the thick half curls for years, to see the desire in his summer-sky eyes as she touched him. She wanted to pull him down to her, to fall back on the butter-soft leather seating as they kissed. She wanted to feel him on her, feel him hard where she’d always wanted him to be for her…

It was so embarrassing, so humiliating that he could make her like this, lost inside her desires with a single touch, with no power to say a word, let alone “stop.” Even worse that he knew it, had to know it.

“We’re almost back at the palace.” It was all he said, yet the quiver ran down her spine and into her toes, her core. He made it sound as if they stood at the door of a sumptuous hotel, or her bedroom.

When he lifted his hand from her skin, she wanted to cry out in protest.

“Can you speak to the King for me when we return? I think it’s time for a family conclave on what’s best for Hellenia. It’s time to go forward.”

Yanked from her sensuous daydream, she lifted her brows. Theo Angelis had been icily civil to Toby since that first ten minutes after they’d met, making it clear that what Toby thought and felt about Hellenia was irrelevant.

This should prove to be interesting, to say the least.

“Toby wants to call a family conference?” Theo Angelis exploded. “By God, who does he think he is? The boy’s gone too far this time!”

“An informal one, Theo Angelis, in the tea room. After dinner, if it suits you.” Lia’s lips twitched before returning to her customary gentleness with the King. She knew him well by now, he was so much like Papou, and Charlie for that matter. He needed the illusion of control to feel safe. It was a rare source of fun watching him trying to lock horns with Toby, who needed no such illusion, had no ego: he just saw what needed to be done and did it with a minimum of fuss.

“You might find what he has to say is interesting, Theo Angelis. He’s been touring the cities and villages the past week with Charlie and Jazmine and I.”

“You’ve been alone with him?” Theo Angelis growled.

It was a strain, but she smiled as she assured him, “I’ve been alone with him for years, and it’s never been a problem.”