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He came closer to Leila and opened the box, watching her eyes widen at the sight of the exquisite gold necklace and matching earrings. He put it down and lifted the necklace, already knowing it would look stunning on her flawless olive skin. It was faintly geometric in design, and circular. He opened it and placed it around her neck, burningly aware of her body so close to his. Of his straining erection.
Leila put a hand to it as he took his own away and stepped back. ‘It’s beautiful. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m just not used to...this. I feel like I’m not qualified.’
Alix saw her insecurity and was amazed at how little she was aware of her own beauty and power. Over him.
Gruffly he said, ‘You’re just as qualified as anyone else ever was. Most of the Queens in this family were slave girls, transported from northern Europe on ships, taken by pirates.’
Leila looked at him, a rare spark of humour in her eyes. ‘That’s one part of your history I didn’t particularly relish learning about.’
Alix handed her the earrings and watched as she slid them into her ears. Dieu. He even found that erotic.
Feeling compelled, he said, ‘I’m sorry I left you alone all week. I had things to attend to.’
It sounded so lame now. Pathetic. No woman had ever made him feel as if he wasn’t in complete control. Except for this one.
He forced his mind back from the brink and stepped back. ‘Ready?’
She nodded and he saw how she swallowed nervously. Instinctively he reached for her hand and led her out of the suite and into the corridor, aware of her tension and wanting to soothe it. Reassure her. Alien concepts for Alix.
They were coming close to where the sound of over two hundred guests could be heard and she stopped in her tracks. He looked at her and his chest squeezed at the fear on her face. He’d done this to her. He’d never contemplated having a wife who wouldn’t just take this in her stride.
Her eyes were huge. ‘What if I can’t do this? I’m not a princess...’
Alix couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and putting a hand to her neck, massaging her muscles with his fingers, feeling them resist and then relax. Her eyes were all he could see: huge pools of green. Her skin was so soft under his hand, and then he couldn’t resist tugging her into him and lowering his mouth to hers.
They sank into each other, mouths open and tongues tangling, their kiss growing hotter and deeper before he had a chance to claw back some control. They were in the corridor. About to face guests. And he was ready to lift her against the nearest wall and thrust into her tight sheath.
Alix pulled back, feeling dizzy. Leila looked equally disorientated. Mouth pink and swollen.
Somehow he managed to grit out, ‘You’ll be fine. Just follow my lead.’
Leila wasn’t sure how she was able to make her feet move at all after that kiss, but somehow Alix’s words and his hand anchored her—although she had to figure that the kiss had been a somewhat calculated move to make her look suitably starry-eyed before they faced his public.
And then suddenly they were standing at the top of the stairs at the entrance to the majestic ballroom and Leila’s nerves were back. It was filled with portraits of his rather fearsome-looking an
cestors. The crowd started to hush as people noticed them. Alix took her hand and placed it on his arm.
A man in an elaborate Isle Saint Croix uniform struck a tall staff on the ground. It made an impressive booming noise and then he shouted out, ‘May I present to you the King of Isle Saint Croix, Alixander Saul Almaric Saint Croix, and future Queen and mother of Isle Saint Croix, Leila Amal Lakshmi Verughese.’
Leila felt absurdly emotional at being called the mother of Isle Saint Croix as Alix led her down the stairs. She took a deep breath as they reached the bottom, and suddenly it was organised chaos as Andres appeared and led them around the room, introducing them to everyone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHAT FELT LIKE aeons later, Leila wondered if her mouth would stay in a rictus smile for ever. Her cheeks ached and her feet were burning in the too-high heels. Thankfully the crowd had dissipated somewhat now, and she felt as if she could breathe again.
Alix’s conversation with a man whose name Leila couldn’t recall ended. He turned to her, looking genuinely concerned. ‘Are you okay? You probably shouldn’t be on your feet for so long.’
Leila had to stop her silly heart from lurching and forced a smile. ‘Don’t be silly—I’m pregnant, not crippled.’ But in fact she was feeling a little hot and weary.
Alix was gesturing to a member of staff, giving him some kind of signal, and then he was leading Leila out to a secluded open courtyard off the main ballroom.
Leila sat down on a wrought-iron chair with relief, slipping off her shoes for a moment to stretch her feet. She caught Alix’s look and said ruefully, ‘Okay, my feet were beginning to kill me.’
The staff member appeared again, with a tray of hors d’oeuvres and some sparkling water. Alix sat down too and tugged at his bow tie, loosening it a bit.
More touched than she liked to admit, and surprised at this show of concern, Leila said, ‘You don’t have to wait out here with me. I just need a moment.’
Alix popped an olive into his mouth and shook his head. ‘I could do with a break myself. The French ambassador was beginning to bore me to death.’
