Читать книгу A Bride For The Playboy Prince: The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding - Сандра Мартон - Страница 10

CHAPTER TWO

WHY THE HELL was she here? Lisa’s fingers tightened around her clutch bag. Alone in a car with the handsome Prince as they approached a stately mansion which was lit up like a Christmas tree.

Had she been crazy to accompany Luc to the A-list wedding of two complete strangers? Especially when she wasn’t even sure about his motives for asking her. And meanwhile her own motives were becoming increasingly muddled. She was supposed to be concentrating on drumming up new business, yet during a journey which had been short on words but high on tension, all she’d been able to think about was how gorgeous Luc looked in a dark suit which hugged his powerful body and emphasised the deep olive glow of his skin.

The summer sky was not yet dark but already the flaming torches lining the driveway had been lit—sending golden flames sparking into the air and giving the wedding party a carnival feel. On an adjacent field Lisa could see a carousel and nearby a striped hut was dispensing sticks of candyfloss and boxes of popcorn. A smooth lawn lay before them—a darkening sweep of emerald, edged with flowers whose pale colours could still be seen in the fading light.

It looked like a fairy tale, Lisa thought. Like every woman’s vision of how the perfect wedding should be. And you’re not going to buy into that. Because she knew the reality of marriage. She’d witnessed her stepfather crushing her mother’s spirit, like a snail being crushed beneath a heavy boot. And even though they weren’t even married, she’d seen Brittany being influenced by Jason’s smooth banter, which had changed into a steely control once Britt had given birth to Tamsin. Lisa’s lips compressed into a determined line. And that was never going to happen to her. She was never going to be some man’s tame pet.

A valet opened the car door and out she got. One of her high-heeled sandals wobbled as she stepped onto the gravel path, and as Luc put out his hand to steady her Lisa felt an instant rush of desire. Why was it still like this? she wondered despairingly as her nipples began to harden beneath her silky dress. Why could no other man ever make her feel a fraction of what she felt for the Prince? She looked into his eyes and caught what looked like a gleam of comprehension and she wondered if he could guess at the thoughts which were racing through her head. Did he realise she was achingly aware of her body through the delicate fabric as she wondered whether he was still turned on by a woman with curves...?

‘Look. Here comes the bride,’ he said softly.

Lisa turned to see a woman running towards them, the skirt of her white dress brushing against the grass, a garland of fresh flowers on top of her long, dark hair.

‘Your Royal Highness!’ she exclaimed, dropping a graceful curtsey. ‘I’m so happy you were able to make it.’

‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ answered Luc. ‘Amber, do you know Lisa Bailey—the designer? Lisa, this is the brand-new Mrs Devlin.’

‘No.’ The bride shook her head and smiled. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met. I’ve heard of you, of course—and your dress is gorgeous.’

Lisa smiled back. ‘So is yours.’

She was introduced to Amber’s new husband Conall—a tall and striking Irishman, who could barely tear his eyes away from his wife.

‘We’re not having a formal dinner,’ Amber was saying, her fingers lacing with those of her groom as they shot each other a look which suggested they couldn’t wait to be alone. ‘We thought it much better if people could just please themselves. Have fun and mingle. Ride on the carousel, or dance and eat hot dogs. You must let me get you and Lisa a drink, Your Highness.’

But Luc gave a careless wave of his hand. ‘No, please. No formality. Not tonight,’ he said. ‘Tonight I am simply Luc. I shall fetch the drinks myself, which we will enjoy in this beautiful garden of yours, and then I think we might dance.’ His eyes glittered as he turned his head. ‘Does that idea appeal to you, chérie?’

Lisa’s heart smashed against her ribcage as his sapphire gaze burnt over her skin and the unexpected French endearment reminded her of things she would prefer to forget. Like the way he used to slide her panties down until she would almost be pleading with him to rip them off—and his arrogant smile just before he did exactly that. But those kinds of thoughts were dangerous. Much. Too. Dangerous.

‘I like the sound of looking round the garden,’ she said. ‘Not having any outside space is one of the drawbacks of living in London, and this is exquisite.’

‘Thanks,’ said Amber happily. ‘And, Luc, you must look out for my brother Rafe, who’s over from Australia and prowling around somewhere. I thought you might like to talk diamonds and gold with him.’

‘Of course,’ said Luc, removing two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waitress and handing one to Lisa. But he barely noticed the newly-weds walk away because all he could focus on was the woman beside him. She looked... He took a mouthful of the fizzy wine, which did nothing to ease the dryness in his throat. She looked sensational, in a silvery dress that made her resemble a gleaming fish—the kind which always slipped away, just when you thought you might have captured it. Her shoulders were tense and she was sipping her champagne, determinedly looking everywhere except in his direction.

With a hot rush of hunger he found himself wanting to reacquaint himself with that magnificent body. To press himself up against her. To jerk his hips—hard—and to lose himself inside her as he had done so many times before. He swallowed. Would it be so wrong to sow the last of his wild oats in one glorious finale, before taking up the mantle of duty and marriage which awaited him?

They moved before he had time to answer his own question, making their way across a lawn washed deep crimson by the setting sun where many of the other guests stood talking in small groups. Some of these Luc recognised instantly, for Conall moved in similarly powerful circles. There were the Irish Ambassador and several politicians, including an Englishman rumoured to be the next-but-one Prime Minister. There was a Russian oil baron and a Greek hotel magnate, and Conall’s assistant, Serena, came over with Rafe Carter, the bride’s brother—and somehow, in the midst of all the introductions, Lisa slipped away from him.

Yet even though she wasn’t next to him, Luc knew exactly where she was as he went through the mechanics of being a dutiful guest. He accepted a bite-sized canapé from a passing waitress and popped it into his mouth, the salty caviar exploding against his tongue. It was an unusual situation—for him to be doing the watching, rather than for a woman’s eyes to be fixed jealously on him. But she seemed completely oblivious to his presence as she chatted to a clutch of trust-fund babes.

He watched her long curls shimmering down over her tiny frame as she laughed at something one of the women said. He saw a man wander up to the group and say something to her, and Luc’s body grew rigid with an unexpected sense of possessiveness.

And suddenly he wanted to be alone with her. He didn’t want small talk—or, even worse, to get stuck with someone who was hell-bent on having a serious conversation about his island principality. He didn’t want to discuss Mardovia’s recent elevation to join the ranks of the world’s ten most wealthy islands, or to answer any questions about his new trade agreement with the United States. And he certainly didn’t want one of Hollywood’s hottest actresses asking quite blatantly whether he wanted her telephone number. Actually, she didn’t really put him in a position to refuse—she just fished an embellished little card from her handbag and handed it over, with a husky entreaty that he call her...soon. Not wanting to appear rude and intending to dispose of it at the earliest opportunity, Luc slipped the card into his jacket pocket before excusing himself and walking over to where Lisa stood.

There was a ripple of interest as he approached, but he pre-empted the inevitable introductions by injecting an imperious note into his voice. ‘Let’s go and explore,’ he said, taking her half-drunk champagne from her and depositing their glasses on a nearby table. ‘I can hear music playing and I want to dance with you.’

Lisa felt a flicker of frustration as he took her drink away, wondering why his suggestions always sounded like commands. Because he was a prince, that was why, and he had spent his entire life telling people what to do. Not only was he interrupting her subtle sales pitch, he also wanted to dance with her—an idea which filled her with both excitement and dread. She knew she should refuse, but what could she say? Sorry, Luc. I’m terrified you’re going to hit on me and I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist.

The trouble was that everyone was looking at her and the other women weren’t even bothering to hide their envy. Or maybe it was disbelief that such an eligible man wanted to dance with a too-small brunette with an overdeveloped pair of breasts. She wanted to make a break for it, to run towards that copse of trees at the end of the lawn and to lose herself in their darkness. But she hid her insecurity behind the serene mask she’d perfected when her mother had married her stepfather and overnight their world had changed. When she’d learnt never to let people know what you were thinking. It was the first lesson in survival. Act weak and people treated you like a weakling. Act strong and they didn’t.

‘Okay,’ she said carelessly. ‘Why not?’

‘Not the most enthusiastic response I’ve ever received,’ he murmured as they moved out of earshot. ‘Do you get some kind of kick from making me wait?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Why? Is it mandatory to answer immediately when spoken to by the Prince?’ she mocked.

He smiled. ‘Something like that.’

‘So why don’t you just enjoy the novelty of such an experience?’

‘I’m trying.’

‘Try harder, Luc.’

He laughed as they walked across the grass to the terrace and up a flight of marble steps leading into the ballroom, from where the sultry sound of jazz filtered out into the warm night air. Lisa’s chest was tight as Luc led her onto a quiet section of the dance floor, and as he drew her into his arms she was conscious of the power in his muscular body and the subtle scent of bergamot which clung to his warm skin.

It was hard not to be overwhelmed by his proximity and impossible to prevent the inevitable assault on her senses. This close he was all too real and her body began to stir in response to him. That pins-and-needles feeling spiking over her nipples. That melting tug of heat between her thighs. What chance did she have when he was holding her like this? I haven’t danced with a man in a long time, she realised—and the irony was that she’d never actually danced with Luc before. He’d never taken her to a party and held her in his arms like this because their affair had been conducted beneath the radar. And suddenly she could understand why. The hard thrust of his pelvis was achingly evocative as it brushed against her. Dancing was dangerous, she thought. It allowed their bodies to be indecently close in a public place and she guessed that Conall’s tight security was the only reason Luc was okay with that. Anywhere else and people would have been fishing out their cell phones to capture the moment on camera.

Yet somehow, despite her misgivings, she couldn’t help but enjoy the dance—at least up to the point where her throat suddenly constricted and her breathing began to grow shallow and unsteady. Had he pulled her closer? Was that why the tips of her breasts were suddenly pushing so insistently against his chest? And if she could feel her nipples hardening, maybe so could he.

‘You seem tense,’ he observed.

She moved her shoulders awkwardly. ‘Are you surprised?’

‘You don’t like dancing? Or is being this close to me again unsettling you?’

Lisa drew her head back to meet the indefinable expression in his eyes. ‘A little,’ she admitted.

‘Me, too.’

She pursed her lips together, wishing she could control the thundering of her heart. ‘But you must get to dance with hundreds of women.’

‘Not at all. I’m not known for my love of dancing.’ His finger stroked distractingly at her waist. ‘And no woman I’ve ever danced with makes me feel the way you do.’

‘That’s a good line, Luc.’ She laughed. ‘Smooth, yet convincing—and with just the right note of disbelief. I bet you hit the jackpot with it every time.’

‘It’s not a line.’ His brow furrowed. ‘And why so cynical?’

‘I’d prefer to describe it as having taken a healthy dose of realism and I’ve always been that way. You never used to object before.’

Reflectively, his finger stroked her bare arm. ‘Maybe I was too busy taking off your clothes.’

‘Luc—’

‘I’m only stating the truth. And please don’t give me that breathless little gasp and look at me like that, unless you want me to drag you off to the nearest dark corner.’

‘Carry on in that vein and I’ll walk off all by myself.’

‘Okay.’ He sucked in a deep breath before moving his hands to her waist—the slender indentation of her flesh through the delicate silk feeling almost as intimate as if he were touching her bare skin itself. ‘Let’s keep things formal. Tell me what’s been happening in your life.’

‘You mean the shop?’

A faint frown arrowed his dark eyebrows together, as if he hadn’t meant the shop at all. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Tell me about the shop.’

Lisa fixed her gaze on the tiny buttons of his dress shirt. Did she tell him about how empty she’d felt when they’d split, which had made her throw herself headlong into her work—not realising that her ambition was outpacing her and that by aiming so high, she’d made the potential crash back to earth all the harder? ‘People kept telling me I ought to expand and so I found myself a backer,’ she said. ‘Someone who believed in me and was willing to finance a move to a more prestigious part of the city.’

‘Who?’

His voice had suddenly roughened and she looked up into his face. ‘Is that really relevant?’

‘That depends.’ There was a pause before he spoke again. ‘Is he your lover?’

She screwed up her nose. ‘You’re implying that I started a relationship with my new backer?’

‘Or maybe it was the other way round? Your change in fortune seems a little...dramatic,’ he observed. ‘It would make sense.’

Her feet slowed on the polished floor and Lisa felt a powerful spear of indignation. Was Luc really coming over as jealous—when he’d told her from the get-go that there was never going to be any future in their relationship? Was that what powerful princes did—played at being dog in the manger, not wanting you themselves, but then getting all jealous if they imagined someone else did? But she wasn’t going to invent a closeness with her backer which did not extend outside the boardroom door. She and Martin were business buddies and nothing more.

She gave a laugh. ‘Everyone knows you should never mix business and pleasure, and I’m afraid there hasn’t been time for much in the way of recreation.’

‘Why not?’

Again, she moved her shoulders restlessly. ‘The stakes are much higher now that I’ve got the shop and then there’s Brittany...’

Her words trailed off but he picked up on her hesitation.

‘Your sister?’

Amazed he’d remembered the little sister he’d never even met, Lisa nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘She had a baby.’

He frowned. ‘But she’s very young herself, right?’

‘Yes, she is and...’ Her voice faded because Luc wouldn’t be interested in hearing about Brittany’s choice of partner. And even though part of her despised Jason and the way he lived, wasn’t there still some kind of stubborn loyalty towards him because he was Tamsin’s father? ‘I’ve been pretty tied up with that,’ she finished.

‘So you’re an aunt now?’ he questioned.

She looked up at him and Luc watched her face dissolve with soppy affection—her green-gold eyes softening and her mouth curving into a wistful smile. He felt a beat of something unfamiliar because he’d never seen her look that way before and a whisper of something he didn’t understand crept over his skin.

‘Yes, I’m an aunt. I have a little niece called Tamsin and she’s beautiful. Just beautiful. So that’s my news.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘What about you?’

Luc’s throat thickened with frustration, because ironically he felt so at ease in her company that Lisa would be the perfect person to confide in. To reveal that soon he would be marrying another woman—the Princess from a neighbouring island who had been earmarked as his bride since birth. A long-anticipated union between two wealthy islands, which he couldn’t continue to delay.

And Lisa was a realist, wasn’t she? She’d told him that herself. She might even agree that arranged marriages were far more sensible than those founded on the rocky ground of romance, with their notoriously high failure rate. If he hadn’t wanted her quite so much he might have confided in her, but the truth was that he did want her. He wanted her so badly that he could barely move without being acutely aware of his aching groin, and he was glad she was standing in front of him, concealing his erection from any prying eyes.

But something stopped him from starting the inevitable seduction process—something which felt uncomfortably like the fierce stab of his conscience. For a moment he fought it, resenting its intrusion on what should have been a straightforward conclusion to the evening. He knew how much she still wanted him. It was obvious from the way she looked at him—even if he hadn’t felt her nipples hardening against his chest or heard the faltering quality of her words, as if she was having difficulty breathing. Just as he knew that his desire for her was greater than anything he’d felt for any other woman. The words he’d spoken while they’d been dancing were true.

But his duty lay elsewhere and he had no right to lose himself in her soft and curvy body. No right to taste her sweetness one last time, because what good would it do—other than trigger a frustration which might take weeks to settle? It wasn’t fair to the woman who was intended as his wife, even though it had been twelve months since he’d even seen her. And it wasn’t fair to Lisa either.

He remembered that yearning look on her face when she’d spoken about her sister’s child—a look which indicated a certain broodiness, as women of her age were programmed to be broody. He needed to let her go to find her own destiny, one which was certainly not linked to his.

Reluctantly, he drew away from her and it was as though he had flicked a switch inside himself. Self-discipline swamped desire as it had done for the past two years, and, now that sex was off the agenda, he noticed again the pallor of her complexion and faint shadows beneath her eyes. Suddenly, Luc was appalled at his thoughtlessness and ruthlessness. Had he really been planning to satisfy himself with her and then simply walk away and marry another woman?

Yes, he had.

His mouth twisted. What kind of a man was he?

‘Let’s go,’ he said abruptly.

‘Go?’ She looked up at him in bewilderment. ‘But it’s still early.’

‘You’re tired,’ he said tightly. ‘Aren’t you?’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess so.’

‘And you’ve probably done all the sales pitching you can for tonight. The party will really get going in a minute and I doubt whether anyone will be asking you how long your turnaround times are or whether you can make them a dress in time for their birthday party. So let’s just slip away without a big fuss.’

Aware that she was in no position to object, Lisa nodded but her mood was strangely deflated as they walked towards Luc’s waiting car and the sounds of music and laughter grew fainter. For a while back then it had felt so magical and so familiar being in his arms again. She’d felt warm and sexy as he’d held her close and his hard body had tensed against hers in silent acknowledgement of the powerful attraction which still pulsed between them. She hadn’t thought beyond the dance but had thought they might stay like that for most of the evening. But now, with the moon barely beginning to rise and a trip back to her grotty home in London on the horizon—she felt strangely cheated. And embarrassed. As if she had been somehow presumptuous. Because hadn’t she wondered if they might end up in bed together? Hadn’t that been the one thought which had really been on her mind?

Once in the car, she accelerated her Cinderella mood by kicking off the high-heeled shoes and folding herself into one corner of the wide back seat, as if she could simply disappear if she made herself small enough. But Luc didn’t react. He simply took out his cell phone and began to read from the screen. It was as if he had retreated from her. As if she were just part of the fixtures and fittings—as inconsequential as the soft leather seat on which they sat.

So don’t show him you care, she told herself—even though she could feel the unfamiliar pricking of tears behind her eyes. Had she arrogantly thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her? That he still found her as irresistible as she found him? She closed her eyes and leaned back against the soft leather, wondering if she had misread the whole situation.

* * *

Luc stared unseeingly at the screen of his phone until the regular sound of Lisa’s breathing told him she was sleeping. It was torture to sit beside her without touching her—when all he wanted to do was to slip his hand beneath her dress and make her wet for him.

He was silent throughout the journey and it was only as they began to edge towards London that he glanced out of the window and began to notice his surroundings. The city was still buzzy as he leaned forward and quietly told the driver to go to Lisa’s address.

‘You want me to drop you off on the way, boss?’ asked the driver.

Luc glanced at his watch. Tempting to call it a night and get away from the enticement she presented, but he owed her more than waking up alone in an empty car. She didn’t deserve that. The frown at his brow deepened. She’d never given him any trouble. She hadn’t tried to sell her story to the press or to capitalise on her royal connections, had she?

‘No,’ he said. ‘Let’s take her home first.’

But he was surprised when the car changed direction and entered the badly lit streets of an unfamiliar neighbourhood, where rubbish fluttered on the pavement and a group of surly-looking youths stood sucking on cigarettes beneath a lamp post. Luc frowned as he remembered the ordinary but very respectable apartment she’d had before. What the hell was she doing living somewhere like this?

As the car slid to a smooth halt, he reached out and gently shook her awake.

‘Wake up, Lisa,’ he said. ‘You’re home.’

Lisa didn’t want to leave the dream—the one where she was still locked in Luc’s arms and he was about to kiss her. But the voice in her ear was too insistent to ignore and her eyes fluttered open to see the Prince leaning over her, his face shadowed.

Feeling disorientated, she sat up and looked around. She was home—and she didn’t want to be. Still befuddled, she bent to cram her feet back into her shoes and picked up her silver clutch bag. ‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘This is where you live?’

She heard the puzzled note in his voice and understood it instantly. She bet he’d never been somewhere like this in his privileged life. For a split second she was tempted to tell him that she was just staying here while her own home was being redecorated, but she quickly swallowed the lie. Why be ashamed of what she was and who she’d become?

‘Yes,’ she said, her voice still muzzy from sleep. ‘This is where I live.’

‘You’ve moved?’ he demanded. ‘Why?’

‘I told you that Brittany had a baby and the three of them were cramped in a too-small apartment. So...’ She shrugged. ‘We just did a swap. It made sense. I’m planning to get myself something better when—’

‘When business picks up?’ he questioned astutely.

‘When I get around to it,’ she said quickly. Too quickly. ‘Anyway, thanks for taking me to the party. Hopefully, I’ll have drummed up some new business and it...well, it was good to catch up.’

‘Yeah.’ Their eyes met. ‘I’ll see you to the door.’

‘Honestly, there’s no need.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘I’m a big girl now, Luc.’

‘The subject isn’t up for debate,’ he said coolly. ‘I’ll see you to your door.’

The night air was still warm on her bare arms yet Lisa shivered as Luc fell into step beside her. But it wasn’t shame about him seeing her home which was bothering her—it was the sudden sense of inevitability which was washing over her. The realisation that this really was goodbye. Fishing the key from her bag, she fumbled with the lock before turning back to face him, unprepared for the painful clench of her heart and an aching sense of loss. She would never see him again, she realised. Never know that great rush of adrenaline whenever he was close, or the pleasurable ache of her body whenever he touched her. For a split second she found herself wondering why she’d been stupid enough to finish with him, instead of eking out every available second until her royal lover had ended the relationship himself. She’d done it to protect herself from potential heartache, but what price was that protection now?

Sliding her arms around his neck, she reached up on tiptoe and brushed her lips over his. ‘Be happy,’ she whispered. ‘Goodnight, Luc.’

Luc froze as the touch of her lips ignited all his repressed fantasies. He felt it ripple over his skin like the tide lapping over dry sand as he tried to hold back. He told himself that kissing a man was predatory and he didn’t like predatory women. He was the master—in charge of every aspect of his life—and he’d already decided that no good could come from a brief sexual encounter.

Yet his throat dried and his groin hardened as the warmth of her body drew him in, because this was different. This was Lisa and her kiss was all the things it shouldn’t be. Soft yet evocative—and full of passionate promise. It reminded him of just how hot she’d been in his bed and yet how cool the next morning.

And it was over.

It had to be over.

So why wasn’t he disentangling her arms and walking back towards his purring limousine? Why was he pushing her through her door and slamming it shut behind them? A low moan of hunger erupted from somewhere deep inside him as he pushed her up against the wall and drove his mouth down on hers.