Ruling Passions
Laura Wright
Crown Prince Alexander Thorne's honorable intentions were overturned when he rescued a red-haired siren from the sea and gave in to the chemistry raging between them. Alex had sworn he would never again be ruled by a woman, yet lovely Sophia Dunhill might be carrying his heir, and duty required she be kept very close at hand.Sophia valued her freedom and had no intention of remaining in Prince Alex's island kingdom for longer than it took to repair her boat–royal command or no. Despite his fiery kisses and their heated nights, Sophia wanted more. Could her love transform her duty-bound prince into a man ruled by his passions?
“Have I Proved Myself, Your Highness?”
Jaw as tight as the rest of him, Alex released her. “You are very bold, Sophia.”
She nodded. “I’m going in now. You’ll be all right out here by yourself?”
“I always have. I always will.”
Alex saw her flinch slightly before saying, “Good night, then.”
He watched her go, all the way up the sandy beach and into the house. His mind was blistered from their silly game of seduction. But it wasn’t merely madness and unrequited pleasure that plagued him. Those two shackles he could deal with.
No, it was something far more dangerous.
For the first time in six years, he felt connected with life—open to lust, to need, to pain and to want.
And Sophia Dunhill was his keeper of the keys….
Dear Reader,
Welcome to another stellar month of stories from Silhouette Desire. We kick things off with our DYNASTIES: THE BARONES series as Kristi Gold brings us Expecting the Sheikh’s Baby in which—yes, you guessed it!—a certain long-lost Barone cousin finds herself expecting a very special delivery.
Also this month: The fabulous Peggy Moreland launches a brand-new series with THE TANNERS OF TEXAS, about Five Brothers and a Baby, which will give you the giddy-up you’ve been craving. The wonderful Brenda Jackson is back with another story about her Westmoreland family. A Little Dare is full of many big surprises…including a wonderful secret-child story line. And Sleeping with the Boss by Maureen Child will have you on the edge of your seat—or boardroom table, whatever the case may be.
KING OF HEARTS, a new miniseries by Katherine Garbera, launches with In Bed with Beauty. The series focuses on an angel with some crooked wings who must do a lot of matchmaking in order to secure his entrance through the pearly gates. And Laura Wright is back with Ruling Passions, a very sensual royal-themed tale.
So, get ready for some scintillating storytelling as you settle in for six wonderful novels. And next month, watch for Diana Palmer’s Man in Control.
More passion to you!
Melissa Jeglinski
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Ruling Passions
Laura Wright
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LAURA WRIGHT
has spent most of her life immersed in the world of acting, singing and competitive ballroom dancing. But when she started writing romance, she knew she’d found the true desire of her heart! Although born and raised in Minneapolis, Laura has also lived in New York City, Milwaukee and Columbus, Ohio. Currently, she is happy to have set down her bags and made Los Angeles her home. And a blissful home it is—one that she shares with her theatrical production manager husband, Daniel, and three spoiled dogs. During those few hours of downtime from her beloved writing, Laura enjoys going to art galleries and movies, cooking for her hubby, walking in the woods, lazing around lakes, puttering in the kitchen and frolicking with her animals. Laura would love to hear from you. You can write to her at P.O. Box 5811 Sherman Oaks, CA 91413 or e-mail her at laurawright@laurawright.com.
To my child, who grows inside of me
as I write this final Fiery Tale: Daddy and I love you.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Prologue
Scotland
May
The sea took the shape of a woman’s hip as it climbed into a wave: curved and pink in the setting sun. But Crown Prince Alexander William Charles Octavos Thorne had no use for women anymore, real or imagined.
Lungs filled with salty air, he sagged against a jagged rock and watched the surf crash against the beach and crawl toward him.
He didn’t run from its progress, didn’t move. Not even when icy water stung his foot.
He understood the sea’s endless need to consume, to take, to hurt. For five long years he’d felt the like—too many times to count. Then there was today…
Three hours ago he’d received word that his wife had left town, left him for another man. Like the cold, pinkish waves before him, relief rippled through his blood. Relief and anger—for a woman who’d hated him the minute they’d married, a woman who’d acted like a bloody iceberg no matter how hard he’d try to care for her, a woman who’d wanted no children, no warmth, no friendship.
Alex tore off his shirt, let the cool air rush over his chest.
He’d been a man of his word, married a woman he’d hardly known, remained loyal and honorable to her, kept silent when she’d told his father and the court that they were trying to conceive a child—even kept up the charade that they’d been living together for the past two years.
But today, on the day she’d run off with another man, loyalty, honor and care went to Llandaron only. Alex had his country to think of now, damage control to see to. If the world found out the truth of his situation, the heart of the Llandaron people could be destroyed forever.
Pretense was his only saving grace.
He would move slowly, tread easily. He would use whatever money and means was required to settle this matter, while keeping the truth hidden for as long as possible. Next week he left for his summit in Japan with the emperor. He would make his wife’s excuses, take care of business, and while he was there, call in a favor from an old school chum he trusted, who just happened to be a divorce barrister in London. Then at some point, he’d return home to Llandaron and tell his family—tell his father that he’d failed.
At that offensive realization, Alex’s jaw tightened to the point of pain. If there was anything he despised more than failure it was admitting it.
Echoing his mood, twilight seeped in around him and the sea turned choppy, each boundless curl morphing from pale pink to violent purple.
From this day forward, he vowed silently, no woman would rule him.
And from this day forward, the prospect that he would rule dimmed.
The lifelong assumption that he would govern his country might now have to be put aside in favor of his brother, Maxim. For a queen and an heir were vital to the Kingdom of Llandaron. And Maxim had both.
Pain snapped at Alex’s heart. He opened his mouth and released five years of unlivable ache. The gut-wrenching cries to the sea echoed, ricocheting back into his ears, making him start, stop.
Suddenly his eyes widened, focused. All thought drifted down, sank into the wet sand under his feet as out in the distance, a sailboat lurched across the coarse sea.
For one brief moment, before the boat disappeared behind the towering cove walls, he saw a woman, perched on the bow of the craft like one of the jewel-tailed mermaids from his childhood dreams, all mind-blowing curves and brazen, red hair.
She was facing him, her long hair thrashing about her neck and chest like silken whips. She seemed to stare straight at him—a bizarre sensation, as her eyes were impossible to make out. Unlike the delectable combination of senses emanating from her: air, water and fire.
From gut to groin Alex went hard.
A massive wave crashed just inches from him, spitting saltwater into his face, his mouth and eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face to clear the mist, then quickly glanced up.
Both boat and mermaid were gone.
Awareness, raw and demanding battled in his blood, but he shoved the feeling away. He’d felt need before, perhaps not this strong, but he’d fight it just the same. No woman would rule him.
Jaw set, Alex stripped bare and dove into the frigid water, determined to remind the lower half of him—just as he had his mind—who was master.
One
Llandaron
Four months later
Fog surrounded the sloop like a perilous curtain, while the influx of seawater slithered into the hull in a snake-like stream.
As she stuffed wet couch cushions into the cavity, Sophia Dunhill cursed herself for forgetting to plot her estimated position.
How could she have been so stupid? So scattered?
Maybe because with her grandfather’s beautiful homeland in her sights, all thoughts of navigation had simply drifted from her mind.
She’d been sitting on the deck with the late-afternoon sun warming her shoulders, staring out at the small island nation just off the coast of Cornwall. She’d felt mesmerized by Llandaron. Her mountains and her beautiful landscape of trees, purple heather and rocks itching with beach grass.
The weather had been absolutely perfect. Blue sky, calm seas. Then everything had changed. Out of nowhere thick fog had rolled in like a milky carpet so fast she’d barely had time to think. And in seconds the Daydream had collided with the rocky coastline.
How was it possible? A sailor for a good ten years and she hadn’t seen this one coming.
Panic surged in her blood as she bolted up the companionway steps to the deck and straight into the thick fog. She couldn’t lose this vessel to her own stupidity and a pile of rock. It was all she had left of her grandfather. The beautiful sloop was his legacy, his dream—and the one thing that only they’d shared. It had to remain afloat. After all, she still had one leg of this voyage, her grandfather’s voyage, to complete. She had to dock the Daydream in the small fishing village of Baratin where her grandfather was born before she could return home to San Diego, to her empty apartment and to the writer’s block that had plagued her since his death.
Baratin wasn’t far, just on the other side of Llandaron, and come hell or rough water she would make it.
With steady hands she hauled a spare sail across the deck and draped it over the gaping hole. But the water was too powerful. The padding wasn’t going to hold for long. Especially bumping against the rocks the way they were.
A fleeting thought born out of panic, shot into her mind and she quickly shoved it away.
Abandon ship.
But to a sailor, abandoning ship was akin to abandoning a child. It wasn’t done.
At that moment seawater burst through a deck plank like a geyser. The boat shifted, groaned in pain.
Abandoning her child.
Sophia’s heart squeezed. She had no choice.
Grabbing the chart and ditch bag she’d packed, Sophia eased her way to the bow of the boat. Was she a coward to take the easy road? she couldn’t help but wonder. For a moment she was reminded of her parents’ funeral, of the decision she’d made that day to defy their will and go and live with her grandfather instead of her stern aunt Helen. After years of living with two domineering spirits, Sophia had felt desperate for freedom. She’d gone on instinct, and finding her grandfather had been one of the best decisions of her life.
Instinct was all she had to cling to now, and it was screaming at her to jump.
Sophia gave one last glance at the chart to make sure she knew which way to swim. Then, with her eyes closed, her breath a little too tight in her lungs, she listened for the sound of the waves just as her grandfather had taught her.
And after snugging up the straps on her life jacket, she slipped into the water.
He’d hoped to keep the world out.
At least for a while.
From the deck of his beach house, Alex Thorne leaned back in his chair, took a pull on his beer and reveled in the shroud of fog that enveloped him. Granted the mystical fog only lasted one hour in Llandaron. But it was an hour of no questions, no answers and it was pure ecstasy.
After returning home from London five days ago, there had been nothing but questions and the demand for answers. As always he’d dealt with each as succinctly and as nonemotionally as possible. His family didn’t need details of his failed marriage, just the facts: he was divorced and back home to resume his duties, face his people.
Given his brusque nature, Alex had thought the news would flow easily from his lips. But it hadn’t. Deep in his gut, shame had paved the road.
His brother, Maxim, and sister, Catherine, had offered their support and their love, while his father had listened with a tight expression, giving off only sighs and an occasional nod.
Alex didn’t scorn the man’s pragmatic reaction. In fact, he understood it. He, too, was worried about Llandaron and how its citizens would take the news of his failure when it was soberly announced at the annual Llandaron Picnic on Saturday. He couldn’t forget how year after year his people waited patiently for news of a child. News that would never come.
Could his people forgive him this, too? Or would they ask him to step down in favor of Maxim?
Alex took another pull on his beer and stared out into the fog-shrouded sea he bowed to whenever he needed some semblance of comfort. There was no getting past the fact that he loved his people more than his own life. And he was ready to do as they wished. Whatever they wished—
Suddenly, Alex stopped short, all thoughts spent, and leaped to his feet. Brow furrowed, he cocked his head to the side and listened.
A sound. A cry—coming from the water, faint, but desperate—echoed over the beach. A sound that made his blood run cold.
Gut in his throat, Alex bolted off the deck, dropped down onto the cool sand and raced to the water’s edge. The fog was thick as butter, but the visual impasse didn’t make him cautious. He could have run that stretch of beach blindfolded, he’d combed it so many times.
There it was again. A woman’s cry. Louder now.
Without pausing to think, Alex thrashed into the surf, then dove beneath the waves. He swam like a demon toward a cry muffled by the swirl of the sea.
When he surfaced, he fought for his bearings. He looked right then left, then behind himself as his legs worked like twin engines in the water.
It took all of five seconds for him to locate the source of that cry. Red hair, wide eyes, pale complexion. A woman thrashing about in the water, the strings of her life vest caught on rock.
Her shouts for help grew hoarse, weak. She was obviously tiring. The erratic tumble of Alex’s heartbeat thumped in his ears as he swam like a sea snake straight for her. Once he reached her side, he wasted no time with words. He ripped the vest from the rock, then eased his arm around her waist and scooped her up.
But in his haste for shore, his leg caught, gripped by a colony of seaweed. The slimy mess wrapped his ankle like a hungry Octopus, dragging him down, dragging him under.
Cursing, he lost hold on the girl, for a moment lost his breath as he struggled under the whirling sea. Panic knocked him senseless as his pulse raced wildly in his chest. Floating below the surface of the green sea, he saw fleeting images of death, his death.
Then suddenly he felt a rush of water loop his legs, saw the red-haired woman down by his ankle, cutting him away from the slimy green god.
Up he sailed, practically flew to the surface of the water like a helium balloon to the blue sky. Air smashed into his lungs. Coughing and sputtering, he fought to stay above the lurching sea.
Then, just when he thought fatigue might claim him, an arm eased across his chest, hooked him like a sad fish and he felt himself move.
The waves rose and fell around him like the footfall of a giant as they inched toward shore. The woman took her time, swimming slowly, taking the waves with gentle insistence, allowing them both a chance to get their bearings.
Though Alex’s lungs ached, his breathing soon regulated and his pulse eased toward normal as he floated on the surface of the water.
By the time his feet hit wet sand, he could walk. But he didn’t stay upright for long. When he felt the comfort of dry sand, he dropped down and stretched out. He heard the woman ease down beside him.
“You better be all right, Lancelot,” she said breathlessly.
It took Alex a good thirty seconds to respond to the thoroughly American quip. “Lancelot?”
“The knight? The one who rushed in to save the damsel in distress?”
“Right,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his wet face. “The one who rushed in to save the damsel in distress, then got his foot caught in the seaweed.”
“Seaweed, stirrups…same difference.” The woman put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay, right?”
“I’ll live.” Alex forced his heavy eyelids open. “So, if I’m Lancelot that must make you…”
The words died on his lips. Framed in a halo of milky-white fog, just inches from his face, was a woman of such heavenly beauty he nearly thought he’d succumbed to the pull of the ocean depths. Eyes the color of the sea—pale green with tinges of blue—and miles of red hair, wet and in gentle waves.
His body tightened. It was her. He felt it in his bones—that same need, that same connection. How was this possible? The mermaid from four months ago, here. Washed up on his stretch of beach.
“I think that makes me an idiot,” she said with dry humor. “Actually I’d say we’re both idiots.”
“How do you figure?”
“Me getting caught on that rock.” She dragged her tongue across her lower lip thoughtfully. “You getting caught in the weeds.”
If he snaked a hand around the back of her neck, pulled her down to him, would she part her lips for him, kiss him the same hungry way he wanted so desperately to kiss her? “That doesn’t sound like idiotic behavior to me.”
“No? What does it sound like, then?”
“Divine intervention. Perhaps we’re both looking to get caught.”
The fog seemed to suffuse Alex all at once. He had no idea what had made him say such an insane thing, but it was too late to retract the statement.
The woman stared intently at him, as though she could see right through his skin. “I’m not looking to get caught, I’m looking to find freedom.”
“God knows why, but right now they seem to be one and the same.” He said the words as much to himself as to her.
Confusion swept her face. “Yes, they do. Why is that?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer, though he really had none to offer. This mood, this moment, was unreal, surreal. She lowered herself on top of him. Her arms snaked around his neck, her needful gaze melted into his own and she kissed his mouth. Just once, one soft, small touch.
Alex cursed the delicious weight of her, the fullness of her breasts pressing against his chest, the pouty lips just inches from his own.
With the fog as her refuge, she was doing something terrible and highly erotic to him, something he’d never felt before—or wanted to feel. Her eyes, the way she looked at him…she had him bound, deep in a trance—a mysterious, sensuous trance. And he needed to get lost there.
Mouth to mouth, body to body, fog blanketing them from the world. Pure paradise.
The freedom to be caught.
His pulse slammed her rhythm in his blood. This had to be a dream. Or maybe it was a nightmare, he reasoned as pure heat came over him, dark and unstoppable. A nightmare where all the control he prided himself on was lost. Where his mind went, his reason, too.
Animal instinct took him. He shifted, had her on her back in seconds. He watched as she smiled tentatively, then lifted her chin, parted her lips. Was he insane? he wondered as her eyes drugged him, drew him in. Did he care?
The surge of need that rippled through him was completely foreign. Or maybe it had just been tucked away, waiting…
A deep, aching groan erupted from his throat as he lowered his head, brushed his lips over hers, just to test, to tease. And as he’d hoped, prayed, she met him.
Hot mouth, sweet tongue. Her fingers fisted in his hair, pulling him closer.
Alex couldn’t think—didn’t want to think. He whispered against her mouth, “What are we doing?”
With an erotic nibble on his lower lip, she uttered, “I have no idea. But it feels so good.”
“Too good.”
His mind went blank once again as she kissed him, deeply, urging him to follow, to play, to plunder. Total madness took him, and his kiss turned ravenous. She angled her head over and over, her hips pressing up, up against the steel in his jeans.
A need for control rapped at his mind. He pulled away, just an inch, his eyes burrowing into hers. Sea-green hunger stared up at him, willed him to close his eyes and take—only take. And when a bleating cry of distress escaped her throat, he silenced her in the only way he knew how.
Around them, the ocean pounded the shore.
Around them, the fog swirled.
With a wildness he was just beginning to understand, she pulled at his T-shirt, fumbled with the button on his jeans. Then before he could think, she rolled them both over until she was straddling his waist, fog lacing her face.
Pulse pounding, Alex eased down her bathing suit top, cupped her full breasts in his palms, rolled the swollen buds between his thumbs and forefingers. A hot gasp rushed out of her, and he felt her quiver over and over against his erection. He knew she was on the brink of release, totally free to take what she wanted.
He tugged at her nipples as she moved her hips against him in a rhythm as timeless as the ocean waves. Beneath them, sand flicked and flew. Alex moved with her, taking her to the edge as against his fingers, those rosy peaks turned crimson.
Suddenly she cried out, a deep aching sound from low in her throat.
Painfully hard, Alex rolled her on her back. He had her suit off, her thighs splayed before the next ocean wave crashed against the beach behind them. Breath heavy, eyes hungry, she wrapped her long, glorious legs around him, then slammed her hips upward.
Alex stared down at her. “Do you want this?”
“Yes,” she whispered, panting.
Without another word, another thought, Alex rose up and plunged inside of her. He gasped as she stretched around him, wet and hot. “You feel like heaven.”
A moan escaped and the words, “I’m no angel.” She lifted and lowered her hips, moving him in and out of her body with wild, wicked strokes.
Complete madness took him. But he knew the madness couldn’t last long, and that made him sick with anger. He wanted to be lost in this, in her, in this hallucination forever. But his body was weak from years of denial.
Sweat beaded on his brow as he drove into her, burrowing them both deeper into the sand.
She was so tight. So was he.
Her hands were everywhere at once; his back, his buttocks, gripping his shoulders. Until she stiffened, her legs releasing their hold on him and opening wide.
He could feel her climax coming, rumbling through her body like thunder, grasping him with her muscles. The feeling was so sweet he thought he’d lose his mind.
But instead he lost his control.
And as she convulsed around him, tightening, squeezing, Alex gave in, fell over the edge and exploded along with her.
As the heat of Sophia’s body ebbed, so did the fog around them. For one full minute she silently prayed that it would take her with it, up into the sky where it was safe from reality and awkwardness. But as she’d learned early in life, the elements kept their own counsel.
The man beside her shifted, his hot skin grazing her own.
Unbidden, her body stirred in response. She stifled a groan. No, she was no angel. Burying her face in her lover’s neck, she wondered how in the world had she allowed such a thing to happen. Granted, she wasn’t someone who shied away from life—but making love to a total stranger was completely over the top.
And, yet, she wanted more.
More lying naked beside the most achingly handsome man she’d ever seen. More time where loneliness and uncertainty subsided and wonderfulness abounded.
More feeling like a woman, desired and consumed.
Reaching twenty-six years old with one pale love affair to her credit, she’d often fantasized about moments like this. She just never imagined one becoming reality. And now that it had, waking up wasn’t as easy as opening her eyes to the morning sunshine and safety of her nautical bedroom back home in San Diego.
Sophia’s thoughts faded as the man beside her disentangled himself from her grasp and sat up. His jaw was as tight as a lobster trap, his heather-colored eyes filled with dismay as he looked down at her. Her heart lurched and fell, and she felt very naked. Despite his gloriously handsome features, his expression was one of consternation.
But for his own actions or for hers, she wasn’t sure.
With her cheeks turning pinker by the second, she snatched up her bathing suit and hurriedly slipped it on as she tried for a casual tone. “I suppose you won’t believe me if I say that I’ve never done anything like this before?”
His eyes were blank now, no banter, no smile. “I must apologize.”
His husky brogue washed over her, heating her skin once again under her wet suit. “There’s no reason for an apol—”
“Of course there is.” He cursed, drove a hand through his thick, black hair. “You were practically drowning out there—”
“So were you.”
“—and I—”
“And we,” she corrected.
He paused for a moment, his gaze moving over her. “Who are you?”
A fool? she felt an impulse to exclaim. A shameless woman with absolutely no hindsight. A woman so desperate to live a little, she’d lost her mind…for a moment. “Maybe it’s better that we don’t know each other’s names.”
He released a haughty snort. “Impossible.”
“Not really. Don’t ask. Don’t tell.” Just give me five minutes to disappear, she thought dryly.
“I’m afraid that rule doesn’t apply here.”
“Why not?”
He stood up then, slipped on his jeans, all broad shoulders and lean muscle. Lord, the man could’ve been carved in bronze he was so well put together. Wavy black hair licked the back of his neck, razor-sharp features showed off his imperious nature to perfection, and then there were those amethyst eyes—needful, yet proud as a lion.
“Let’s just say I’m old-fashioned,” he said dryly.
“Well, I’m not,” she countered. It was a lie, but emotional anxiety always brought out the worst in her. She wasn’t about to spill her guts to this man. Not when he was making it crystal clear that their lovemaking was a huge mistake. She wasn’t going to tell him her name, where she was from, that she was sailing the isles for her grandfather as she tried to come up with a decent idea for her next children’s book.
No. She just wanted to run.
“I don’t want to resort to commands,” he began, crossing his arms over his thickly muscled chest. “But I will.”
Sophia’s brows shot together; she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”
“I’m afraid I will have to command you to tell me who you are.”
“Command me?”
“That’s correct.”
She grinned, let out a throaty laugh and shook her head, the tension inside her easing considerably. “That’s very funny. You’re funny. So that must make you what? The king of Llandaron or something?”
He shook his head brusquely. “Not yet.”
Her stomach pinged with nerves, but she shoved the feeling away, forced out another easy laugh. “Well then, I suppose you can call me the queen of the sea.”
“This isn’t a time for humor, Miss…”
“I agree.” She stood up, straightened her shoulders. This was getting ridiculous. They’d acted without thinking, made a horrible mistake. But it was over. She needed to get out of here. Now. Before this charade went any further. Before she made an even bigger fool out of herself. “Any more commands before I go find a boatworks, sire?”
His severe gaze fairly wilted her resolve. “Just one.”
She swallowed, feeling the heat in her belly fire to life—and hating herself for such a reaction. “Knock yourself out.”
“I was careless. For that I apologize.”
“Please, no more apolo—”
“You may be carrying my child, miss… The heir to the throne of Llandaron.” He raised a fierce brow at her. “I’m afraid you’ll have to remain with me, in my kingdom, until I know for certain.”
Two
Alex watched the blood drain from the woman’s beautiful face like wet paint from a canvas, and felt as though he wanted to ram his fist through a wall. He was the cause of the unease and shock she was feeling. He’d been too quick, too apathetic, in his quest to bring reality to the situation.
As though in the path of a rolling ball of fire, the woman leaped, glanced over her shoulder, then returned her stormy green gaze to him. “Listen, whoever you are. This, whatever it is, has gotten way out of hand.”
Alex was calm as he replied, “You don’t believe me?”
She sniffed, looked him up and down. “No, of course I don’t.”
“There are many ways to prove my identity.”
“I’m sure there are,” she said, her tone thick with agitated sarcasm. “But I’m not really up for more games today.”
“Neither am I.”
“Good.” Her gaze filled with strength as her long, fiery hair swirled around them. “My boat hit a rock and is flailing around out there. I need to have it towed in before—”
“There’s no need to worry about your boat. I will have it brought in for you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think under the circumstances—”
“Thank you, but I can handle it. Now if you’ll excuse me.” And with that she turned to leave.
But her hasty departure was something Alex couldn’t allow. This was far from over, far from resolved. He grabbed her hand.
When she whirled back to face him, her expression screamed antagonism. “You’ve got some nerve, buddy.”
A grin tugged at Alex’s mouth. No one had ever spoken to him with such ferocity. Granted, she didn’t believe he was the crown prince of the country, but still her pluck intrigued him.
“What do you plan to do while you wait for the repairs on your boat?” he asked.
She tugged her hand from his. “I haven’t made any immediate plans yet.”
Alex looked out toward the ocean, saw the boat thrashing around and made a quick assessment. “With damage like that, repairs will take a few weeks at the very least.”
“We’ll see. I’m pretty good with boats, so maybe I’ll lend a hand.”
“I don’t think Mr. Verrick will allow such a thing, but of course, there is no harm in trying.”
“Thanks for the advice. Can I go now?”
“Just one more thing. Where will you stay while your boat is healing?”
“I don’t know,” she said impatiently. “In town, I guess.”
Alex shook his head, a vehemence he didn’t know he possessed seeping into his blood. There was no way he was going to send this woman off to some hotel room. No matter how unwise, he wanted her close, where he could keep an eye on her, where he could protect her—where he could make certain she wouldn’t leave Llandaron without his knowledge.
Not with the ominous possibility of his child growing inside her.
“You will stay here at my beach house.”
Her brows shot together. “Just who do you think you are?”
“I told you who I am.”
“Right. Future king. Right.” She gestured around her. “I don’t see any guards.”
“I don’t allow my guards in my private residence, nor are they allowed on the grounds.”
“That’s a little unsafe for the future king, isn’t it?” she asked sarcastically.
“Perhaps. But after a lifetime of living ‘beneath the shield of protection,’ so to speak, it is what I have chosen.”
She met his imperious gaze without flinching. “Look, buddy, what happened here was a mistake, okay? Can’t we leave it at that? We weren’t thinking. All that fog and having your life flash before your eyes can—”
“Can make one foolish?”
She pointed at him. “Exactly.”
“Well, that doesn’t stay the fact that you might be pregnant.”
On a tiny gasp, her mouth dropped open and her gaze dropped to her belly. There was a long silence before her eyes finally met his once again. And when they did he saw pure unadulterated shock. Then, like a shifting breeze, anxiety and wonder filled those sea-green depths.
She said quietly, almost to herself, “Did you ever think that maybe I’m on the pill?”
“I don’t think so.”
“And why would you think that?” She lifted her impish chin. “Am I so undesirable that I wouldn’t have a steady boyfriend?”
Undesirable? Alex fairly chuckled at the thought. The word sounded like insanity coming from that full, sweet mouth he wanted to taste again. Just as the word boyfriend rang like an irritating bell in his brain.
His jaw tightened. He didn’t want to think of her with another man, he didn’t want to think of her taking birth control for an active love life. Both thoughts made his gut twist. But such feelings were dangerous.
“I wasn’t meaning to insult you,” he said tightly. “I just assumed… Well, you’ve been out to sea for at least four months. Alone. The need for companionship—”
She cut him off, her tone shaky, “How in the world could you know that I’ve been at sea for four months?”
“I saw you.” The image of her standing on that boat, hair wild, all mind-numbing curves, slammed into his mind—along with the white-hot need that accompanied it.
“When?” she demanded. “When did you see me?”
“In Scotland. Back in May. I was on the beach. You were standing on the bow of your boat.”
As the salty wind whipped around them, her eyes darkened to a rich green, pink stained her cheeks. “That was you?”
Alex nodded, his pulse jumping to life in his blood.
So she’d seen him, too.
Sophia knew her face was turning bright red in front of this man, and she hated herself for it. She wasn’t one for embarrassment or awkward situations. In fact, she pretty much ran headfirst into conflicts so they could be resolved and done with. But around this gorgeous creature she wasn’t herself. And the fact that she’d had dreams, even fantasies about seeing him, bare-chested and formidable, etched into Scotland’s rocky coastline for a full month afterward, made her even more disheartened.
“Who are you? Really?” she asked him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Crown Prince Alexander William Charles Octavos Thorne.” The grin he gave her made her knees soft as cream. “Really.”
“You’re lying.”
He shook his head. “I don’t lie.”
Breath held, she studied him in the light of the fading sun. Her grandfather had always said she was a great judge of character. But this man was harder to read than most. He seemed to have iron bars shooting up around him.
But even so, in those heather-colored eyes, in that solemn set of his jaw she saw honor—she saw truth.
She turned away, back toward the sea, with a groan. This was impossible. Impossible. Such things didn’t happen in real life. A prince, for heaven’s sake. Had she really gone and done something so outrageous as to make love to a prince?
Her hand went to her stomach.
A child… An oh-so-familiar ache surged into her throat. She’d been an only child, treated as an adult with all the responsibilities that came with it since the age of five. Ever since, she’d dreamed about having a family, a brood of kids. Teaching them to read, to sail, to swim and, most important, to be silly and carefree—to be a kid.
But having a child this way…
And with royalty…
For a moment Sophia thought that maybe she’d fallen asleep on the deck of the sloop that afternoon. Under the hot sun. Maybe her mind had played tricks and this was all just one crazy dream. The crash, the fog, the man…
With a dash of hope in her heart, she reached over and pinched her arm. A sudden sting told her that she was very much awake.
“And your name?” he asked.
Sophia glanced up at him and muttered a bleak, “Sophia Dunhill from San Diego, California.”
With a grim smile the prince took her hand. “Come back to my house, Sophia, dry off, then we’ll have your boat rescued.”
“Good God. Not another American,” the king exclaimed.
Leaning back against the palace library’s black-walnut mantel, Alex crossed his arms over his chest and watched his brother, Maxim, and his newly-pregnant sister, Cathy, turn to their American spouses and break out into laugher.
Ten minutes ago Alex had left his spunky little mermaid to her bathing. She’d sworn up and down that she would stay put “at least for tonight,” she’d said. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but what he did know was that if he hadn’t taken a break from her presence, he would have pulled her into his arms and made love to her again.
Now, just the thought of her nude, in his bath, up to her neck in vanilla-scented suds…
His hands balled into fists under his crossed arms. Control had to return, must return.
“Unlike my brother and sister,” Alex began with a frown. “There is no…romance here, father.”
The king gave his regal wolfhound, Glinda, a pat on the head, then leaned back in his favorite armchair and took a swallow of brandy. “I should hope not. This would be a very unwise time to go running around with—”
“Some American, Your Highness?” Maxim’s wife, Fran, said on a chuckle.
Alex watched as the king tried to jolt his pregnant and very American daughter-in-law with a withering look, but it came out as a lopsided grin instead. And when the pretty veterinarian returned the smile and patted him on the knee, the old man actually blushed.
The sight of his father turning from staunch dictator to blushing teddy bear stunned Alex. He’d never seen that side of his father. Not since he’d returned home, at any rate. It didn’t take a masters in psychology to deduce that this “American” had done the softening up.
Maxim turned to Alex, grinned. “So, she turned up on the beach, did she?”
Alex nodded succinctly. He wasn’t elaborating. The particulars of his encounter with Sophia on the beach didn’t need to be shared. As it was, the truth wouldn’t stop playing over and over in his mind; visions were more than enough. “Her boat needs extensive repairs.”
“And you volunteered to put her up until it’s fixed?” Cathy’s husband, Dan, asked with a grin to match Maxim’s. The new head of palace security was not only a former U.S. Marshal, but far too inquisitive for his own good.
Alex muttered tightly, “That’s right. It was my stretch of beach she washed up on. I would say that holds me responsible.”
Dan and Maxim exchanged wry glances.
“Didn’t you used to dream about mermaids when you were little?” Cathy asked, taking a sip of her cranberry juice.
“He certainly did,” Maxim said.
Fran smiled broadly and snuggled closer to her husband who had her very sleepy wolfhound pup, Lucky, on his lap. “How very romantic.”
Dan turned to his wife. “So what were these dreams about, Angel?”
Alex sighed heavily. “When did these family dinners start?”
They all ignored him as Cathy explained, “Alex was always a stoic child. He rarely told us anything…private. But when he started having these dreams, the same one, every night for a full year, he couldn’t keep it to himself. I was rather young, but I still remember how my big brother, my very stoic, grumbling brother, looked when he’d tell us about this dream.”
“All right, that’s enough,” Alex said, his voice laced with warning.
Maxim chuckled. “Not nearly.”
Cathy smiled and continued, “He would sit on the roof of the stables and look out at the ocean and tell us all about her. Long red hair, green eyes, pale skin stepping out of the sea with her arms outstretched.”
“Don’t forget about her magical powers,” Maxim prompted.
Quite caught up in the whole mess, the king inquired, “What’s this about magic?”
Dan and Fran nodded quickly, both inquiring, “What about her magical powers?”
Alex groaned, stalked over to the bar and filled a glass with whiskey. How could such a stupid, adolescent dream come back to haunt him this way? And where were the silent and very sedate family dinners he’d always enjoyed—and had counted on tonight?
Cathy’s words came out like a sigh. “He said that when she looked at him he felt as though he could fly, as though he was free, as though he could do and be anything.”
Alex cursed, his knuckles white as he gripped the glass of whiskey.
Dan snorted. “What do you make of that, Max? Poetry or something?”
Maxim shrugged. “I’m not certain. But it sounds as though he was in love with her.”
Alex glared at his brother and sister. “You know, there are plenty of humiliating stories I can share with your spouses.”
Fran grinned widely, her eyes lighting up. “Oooo. Like what?”
Maxim gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. “He’s bluffing, sweetheart.”
“You want to try me, little brother?” Alex countered.
“How about after dinner,” Fran suggested on a chuckle. “When we’re all full and not as prickly.” She turned to Alex. “So, what does this Sophia look like?”
Alex shook his head at his new sister-in-law. She was quick, very quick. Turning the conversation back to him and this mystery they all seemed to want to solve. He should be steaming mad. But no man could be angry with this woman for long—that was clear. Smart, beautiful and glowing with pregnancy.
He stilled, his mind returning to a beach house not far away. Would Sophia glow from carrying his child?
“Red hair by any chance?” Fran asked softly.
With a wave of the hand, Alex tossed out without thinking, “Red hair, green eyes and pale skin. Don’t know about the magical powers.”
Everyone fell silent, only the crackling of the fire and the subtle tinkling of ice cubes in glasses could be heard. Alex could fairly feel them gaping at each other over what he’d just said.
“Why would she not come to dinner tonight?” the king asked at last.
“She wanted some time to herself,” Alex said tightly. “And after…the stress of losing her boat today, I thought it best not to overwhelm her.” He didn’t add in her condition—or potential condition.
The king drained his glass, then announced, “I would like to meet this young woman.”
Cathy nodded. “I think we all would.”
“How about a picnic lunch on the hill tomorrow?” Fran suggested. “With Aunt Fara and Ranen, and Glinda and the pups, too.”
Chest tight, Alex stared at his family as they planned and plotted a way to meet his new houseguest. Everything was being taken out of his hands today. What happened at the beach with Sophia; his strange need for her. And now the insistence of his family. He felt as though he was just an onlooker, a bystander, in his own life. As though some force of nature had taken over.
But before Alex could even attempt to snatch back any semblance of control, his father stood up and barked his command. “Very good. A picnic on the hill. That’s settled, then. Let’s go in to dinner now.”
Sophia stepped out of the bath feeling only mildly relaxed. Here she was, in the crown prince of Llandaron’s opulent bathroom of pristine white and rugged navy, attempting to soak off the day’s craziness.
But how could she soak away unease and hope, not to mention a need unlike any she’d ever felt before?
Her shrink back in San Diego would have a field day with her behavior today. Normally their sessions were comprised of past regrets and pains: her lonely childhood, her parents’ death, her devotion to her beloved grandfather, her wariness to get involved with, then subsequently lose someone she loved.
But this…
This situation that she’d found herself in was beyond all analysis.
Sophia stepped over to the gold-encrusted mirror above the sink, dropped her towel and stared at her reflection. Bright eyes, pink lips, flushed cheeks. She had the look of a woman who’d experienced lust and excitement and satisfaction. The look of a woman who’d just had life breathed into her.
The double meaning in those words had Sophia touching her belly.
A soft smile moved through her. She and Alex had made love at a very risky time. But was such a miracle even possible? Could a life be growing inside her from a moment in time that was as wonderful as it was insane? And if so, what in the world was she going to do about it?
She lifted her chin, her gaze again to the mirror. She would do as she’d always done—face life head-on, face her fears and live each moment with no regrets.
No regrets.
“Sophia?”
Sophia gasped at the masculine call, reached down and snatched up her towel. Alex was back from dinner. Way too early. No doubt to check on her, make sure she hadn’t run away.
With a quick shiver, Sophia glanced over her shoulder at the bathroom door. She swallowed hard. It stood open a good foot. He was right outside, and his close proximity made her feel as though she couldn’t move, as though her feet were stuck to the bathroom tiles. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Could you close the door, please? I’ll be out in a minute.”
She heard him snort. “Don’t tell me you’ve become shy all of a sudden.”
“Not all of a sudden,” she mumbled.
“Is that right? And today—”
“Today I was temporarily blinded by—”
“Lust?” he offered.
“More like a near-death experience. Now, are you going to close the door or what?”
“Not just yet. I’m rather intrigued by the ‘or what.’
On a frustrated sigh, and without thinking, she stalked to the doorway and faced him. “You are impossible!”
“And you are…”
“I’m impossible, too. Now, what can I do for you?”
His fierce gaze raked boldly over her. “You shouldn’t ask a man such a question wearing only that scrap of cotton.”
Sophia pulled her towel closer. “Are you telling me that I can’t trust you to be a gentleman?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
Heat moved through her, but she kept her tone cool. “Let’s get one thing straight, sire. Today was a lapse in judgment. It’s not going to happen again.”
He nodded succinctly. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I don’t supplicate, Sophia.”
“Good. And I don’t kowtow to royalty.”
His mouth twitched with amusement. “Just so we understand each other….” He gestured behind him. “Now get dressed and come out. I brought you dinner.”
She glanced past him, saw several steaming, silver chafing dishes on the glass dining table. “I appreciate the thought, Alex, but I’m not very hungry.”
“You will eat, Sophia,” he insisted with a vague hint of disapproval.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me a moment ago, but I won’t be commanded to do—”
“This isn’t about you.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, his eyes growing dark as eggplant. “You will not starve my child.”
Sophia’s body stiffened with shock, her mind reeling. Alex’s words, his command, cut her deep, deeper than she could have imagined. Just the thought of harming a child, her child, a child that might be growing inside of her at this very moment, brought tears to her eyes.
She blinked them back and took a calming breath. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
He nodded, a hint of warmth passing over his dark and very dangerous gaze. But it was gone quickly. And after a moment he took a step back and closed the bathroom door.
Three
Holding two mugs of coffee, one black as mud, the other creamy and decaffeinated, Alex followed Sophia out onto the beach house’s sprawling deck. “What are you thinking so seriously about tonight?”
“My future.”
“And what do you see?”
She shrugged. “It’s very uncertain, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is,” he said, sliding the mugs of steaming liquid onto the teak sombrero table.
All around them, the night sky gleamed clear, but for the brilliant clusters of stars winking down at them. A cool sea breeze blew across the beach, shifting specks of sand here and there.
Alex motioned for Sophia to take a seat at one of the rustic dining chairs, but she shook her head, then headed down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she gave a weighty sigh and sat down on the last step, dug her toes in the sand.
“I’m not used to being on this side of the sand,” she said. “But it’s very beautiful.”
Alex watched her stare out at the ocean as it crashed against the shore in cloudy tufts, biting his tongue from telling her just what he found beautiful on this side of the sand.
Instead he followed her down the stairs. “Why have you been sailing the isles for four months, Sophia?”
“I don’t know if you’d understand the reason.”
“Why?”
She glanced over her shoulder, gave him a half-smile. “You seem too, well…practical.”
“You have the wrong perception of me,” he said, dropping down beside her on the step.
“Wacky, wild and crazy, are you, your highness?”
“I can be.” He glanced out toward the sand, the place where they’d made love not long ago. “Tell me about your journey,” he said, trying to shove away the surge of desire that was running through him at a hectic pace.
Her voice softened. “Well my parents died when I was young, and I didn’t think I had any family besides my horribly overbearing aunt. I was so afraid of her. She was so much like my parents. Too protective, too concerned, yet totally invulnerable.” She released a sigh. “But then I found out that I had a grandfather.”
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