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Rule handed Trev over to Lani and turned to Sydney. “A moment?” he asked carefully. Lani left them, carrying Trev to the open backseat door where the driver had already hooked in his car seat. Rule brushed a hand down Sydney’s arm—and then instantly withdrew it. She felt his touch like a bittersweet echo on her skin, even through the fabric of her sleeve. He said, “You haven’t forgiven me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Have a safe trip.” She met his eyes, made her lips turn up in a fair approximation of a smile.
He muttered, low, “Damn it, Sydney.” And then he reached for her.
She stiffened, put her hands to his chest, started to push him away. But then he was kissing her. And he tasted so good and he smelled like heaven and …
Well, somehow, she was letting her hands slide up to link around his neck. She melted into him and kissed him back. A little moan of frustrated confusion escaped her, a moan distinctly flavored with unwilling desire.
And when he finally lifted his head, she couldn’t make up her mind whether to slap him or grab him around the neck, pull him down and kiss him again.
“Kisses don’t solve anything,” she told him tightly, her hands against his chest again, keeping him at a safer distance. She should have jerked free of his hold completely. But he would be gone in a minute or two. And she’d already kissed him. She might as well go all the way, remain in the warm circle of his arms until he left her.
“I know they don’t. But damned if I can leave you without a goodbye kiss.”
Okay, he was right. She was glad he had kissed her. Sometimes a kiss said more than words could. She lifted a hand and laid it cherishingly against his lean cheek. “Tell the princess I … look forward to meeting her.”
He turned his lips into her palm, kissed her there, the way he had that first night, in their private alcove at the Mansion restaurant, his breath so warm and lovely across her skin. “I’ll return for you. Within the week.”
A week wasn’t going to cut it. He should know that. She reminded him, “I told you I would need a month, at least, to tie up loose ends at the firm—and that’s with you giving my partners a few rich clients as a going-away present.”
“I will do what I said I would. And I’m still hoping you can be finished faster.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen. Get used to it.”
“I’ll try. And when I return, you’re going to have to make room for me at your house.” He added, so tenderly, “Because I can’t live without you.”
His words softened her heart and she wasn’t sure she wanted that. She was all turned around inside, wanting him so very much, not wanting to be vulnerable to him. She rolled her eyes. “Can’t live without me. Oh, right. Kissing up much?”
He took her by the arms. “Correction. I don’t want to live without you. I’m wild for you. And you know that I am.”
Well, yeah. She did, actually. She relented a little. “Of course you’ll be staying at my house. I don’t want to live without you, either, no matter how angry I happen to be with you.”
“Good.”
“After all, we’re only just married—we only just met, if you want to get right down to it.”
“Don’t.” He said it softly. But his eyes weren’t soft. His eyes were as black and stormy as a turbulent sea. “Please.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it and the simple touch of his mouth on her skin worked its way down inside her, into the deepest part of her. It warmed her and thrilled her—and reassured her, too. “One week,” he said fervently. “At the most. I will miss you every day I’m away from you. I will call you, constantly. You’ll be sick and tired of hearing the phone ring.”
“I won’t mind running to answer the phone. I’ll answer and answer gladly,” she confessed in a near-whisper. “As long as it’s you on the other end of the line.”
“Sydney …” He kissed her again, a quick, hard press of his lips against hers. “A week.”
And he let her go. She watched him mount the steps to the plane. And she waited to wave to him, when he paused to glance back at her one more time before going in.
Finally, too soon, he was gone.
Rule arrived at Nice Airport at five in the morning. From there, it was only a short drive to Montedoro. He was in his private apartments at the Prince’s Palace before six.
At eight, Caroline deStahl, his private secretary, brought him the five newspapers he read daily—and the three tabloids that contained stories about him and Sydney. All three tabloids ran the same pictures, one of the two of them kissing, and another of them fleeing down an Impresario hallway. And all three had similar headlines: The Prince Takes a Bride and Wedding Bells for Calabretti Royal and Prince Rule Elopes with Dallas Legal Eagle.
It was a little after 1:00 a.m. in Dallas. Sydney would be in bed. He hated to wake her.
But he did it anyway.
She answered his call on the second ring. “It’s after one in the morning, in case you didn’t notice,” she grumbled sleepily.
“I miss you. I wish I was there with you.”
