AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His hands tangled through her hair as he teased her with his lips and tongue. She didn’t want to break the connection—she didn’t even want to breathe. Any second now she might start seeing stars.
Sullivan Darcy knew how to kiss. He knew how to hold a woman and cradle her body next to his. He kissed her lips, down her neck and along to her collarbone. Then just as her mouth was hungry for more he met her again, head on. His smell was wrapping around her, clean, with a hint of musk, or maybe it was just the pheromones—because right now she was pretty sure the air was laced with them.
His hand moved from her hair to her waist, sliding upwards, his palm covering her breast. Every part of her body reacted. Every one of her senses was on fire. And there was an instant reciprocal effect from his body.
A sudden gust of wind swept past them.
She jumped back, breathless and trying to regain control. There saw a dark shape shuffle back somewhere inside the restaurant. She felt her face flush. The restaurant staff and security staff would just have witnessed their moment of passion.
She glanced back to their table, the unfinished wine and plates still waiting to be collected. People were chatting on the street below.
For a few seconds she’d been in her own little bubble with Sullivan Darcy. She didn’t need a reality check. Didn’t want a reality check.
So she did the only thing that seemed entirely rational.
She grabbed his hand. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER NINE
THEY’D STUMBLED BACK to his apartments instead of hers. It seemed that Gabrielle wasn’t comfortable in the royal apartments.
The morning sunrise was beautiful. From here Sullivan had part view of the mountain covered in patches of green and part view of the city beneath them, all swathed in oranges, pinks and purples.
It had been a long time since he’d had the time to watch the sunrise. And he’d never done it next to a woman like Gabrielle.
For the first time in a long time the night hadn’t drawn out, like a continuing loop. He’d actually slept a little. Yes, his brain had still spun endlessly round and round, but there had been periods of calm. Periods of quiet. It seemed Gabrielle was a good influence on him.
She was sleeping peacefully now, the white sheets tangled around her body. Her brown hair was fanned across the pillow and for once her forehead was smooth and not furrowed with worry. From the second they’d reached Mirinez her beautiful face had been marred by a frown that he’d only seen once the whole time they’d worked together.
This was the way she should look. This was the Gabrielle he’d first met a few weeks ago. The woman he’d spent last night with.
His stomach curled a little. Part of him wished the Princess part and Mirinez had never happened. He’d liked it better when she’d just been Gabrielle Cartier, medic from Doctors Without Borders. A girl with great legs, even better shorts, a killer dance rhythm and sexy as hell.
Here in Mirinez Gabrielle seemed coated in layers. Last night had been about trying to peel them all back and let her have a little fun.
And, boy, had they had fun.
He’d spent the last three years only having short-term flings. When he’d first met Gabrielle, his brain had pushed her firmly into that category. But from first sight his body had reacted in a way it hadn’t before. At just a glance, a smile, the spark from a touch, it knew. Gabrielle could never be a fling.
Last night had confirmed that in a way he could never have predicted. He could stay in this position, watching her sleep, for ever.
But the dark clouds were still circling above his head. Right now, Gabrielle was like a ray of bright sunshine trying to stream through. If he could believe the intensity of these emotions—if he wanted to act on them—he had to pull himself out of this fog. For the first time in three years he was actually starting to feel something. For the first time he was starting to question—wouldn’t it be so much better to actually feel again?
There was a shuffling outside the door. Sullivan sat up in bed, frowning to listen a little closer. There were low voices.
He swung his legs out of bed and grabbed a T-shirt, opening the door of the bedroom. Franz, the palace advisor, was outside. ‘Dr Darcy, I have a message for Princess Gabrielle and I couldn’t find her in her apartments.’
Sullivan nodded. He was sure the whole palace knew exactly where she was. ‘Do you want me to get her for you?’
Franz gave a brief nod of his head.
Sullivan closed the door again and crossed over to the bed, sitting on the edge and putting his hand on Gabrielle’s bare shoulder. He gave her a gentle shake.
‘Gabrielle? Wake up. Franz is looking for you. They have a message.’
Her dark eyes flickered open. It took her a few seconds to orientate herself. ‘I fell asleep?’ she asked, as she pushed herself up.
‘Nope. I just kidnapped you and held you hostage.’
She pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts as she tried to untangle her legs. ‘Oh, no.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve got no clothes.’ She looked down at the floor. Her black dress was lying rumpled across the carpet, her bra hung from the arm of a chair, and as for her underwear...
Sullivan walked to the cupboard and tossed her a T-shirt. ‘This is getting to be a habit. Maybe you should move some clothes in here.’
She looked a little startled by the comment. She pulled the T-shirt over her head and looked around the room again, colour flooding her cheeks as she picked up her dress and bra. ‘Give me a pair of your jockey shorts too.’
He laughed as she scrambled into the shorts. ‘Don’t you have a robe—a dressing gown—in here?’
Sullivan shook his head. ‘Why on earth would I need one of those?’
‘To let me keep a bit of dignity?’
It was clear she was feeling tetchy. He walked through the bathroom and ran the tap, washing his face and hands, trying to wake up a little more. He flicked the switch on the shower to let it heat up. Coffee. He would find some coffee, then arrange to go back down to the hospital and review the patients.
Gabrielle appeared at the door, looking pale, a newspaper clutched in her hand.
‘What is it?’
She lifted up the Italian broadsheet so he could see the headline.
He flinched.
Princess Gabrielle’s affair with Delinquent Doc
He snatched the paper and started to read. Speaking Italian was different from reading it, but he could easily understand the gist of the article.
The trouble was, no matter what the article said, the picture told a thousand words. It was of the two of them on the terrace last night. They were locked together, his hand on her breast, her arms around his neck. There was n
o mistaking where the night was going.
He held up the paper, trying to temper the anger that was rising in his stomach. ‘What’s this about anyway? We’re two consenting adults—we can do whatever we want.’
‘Keep reading.’ Her voice had a little tremor.
Sullivan’s mobile started ringing. They both turned their heads, but he ignored it. He kept reading.
It was a hatchet job. It questioned Gabrielle’s suitability to be Head of State. It questioned her competence. There was nothing accurate in the article. It didn’t even mention the fact she was a doctor and had worked for Doctors Without Borders for the last few years, or the work she’d done to help stop the spread of TB.
As for the ‘Delinquent Doc’, it seemed that no one knew Sullivan Darcy had served in the US forces. There was no mention that he’d just helped out with a national emergency in Mirinez. No. All that was mentioned was a minor caution he’d received as a teenager from the police—something that had only ever been reported on in the local paper back in his home town. There wouldn’t even be a record of it any more.
There was one final press comment.
Is this the man Princess Gabrielle will marry?
It was like a punch to the stomach. One date. One kiss. One night in bed—and the press didn’t even know about that. Was this what it was like, dating a royal? Facing constant presumptions about what would come next?
His blood chilled in his veins. He was only just starting to feel again after three numb years. And he wasn’t there yet. He wasn’t. He couldn’t offer Gabrielle anything close to marriage yet.
She held up another paper. ‘Apparently there was a picture of us the day before too. My team just missed it amongst all the mine reports.’
Sullivan squinted at the paper in her hand. There was a photo of him and her walking out of the hospital. He had his arm slung around her waist, they were both dressed in scrubs and basically looking like the walking dead. He read that headline.
Who is the mystery man with Princess
Gabrielle?
He shook his head and threw the broadsheet he’d been holding on the unmade bed. ‘Well, I guess they found that out,’ he muttered. ‘Why are you so upset about this? It’s nothing. It’s rubbish.’
