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He cupped her elbow, drawing her away from the lights of the terrace and into the dim evening coolness of the gardens. “I thought perhaps you weren’t coming.”
She caught her breath in dismay, turning to face him and clutching his arm. It suddenly seemed vitally important to reassure him. “I’m sorry. It took longer than I expected. You see, I had to—”
But her words were stilled when he gently placed one large finger against her lips. “Hush. It doesn’t matter.”
His gaze held hers as he slowly, without any hurry or fumbling, placed his hands at her waist and drew her closer. She found she was holding her breath as his mouth drew nearer and nearer. “I’ve been wanting to do this all evening,” he murmured. His lips were a heartbeat away now, and she found she was holding her breath as she leaned forward the scant distance that separated them and allowed his lips to meet hers.
It was heaven, was all she could think. His mouth was warm and tender, competently molding hers as he gathered her closer. Suddenly, within the space of a second, a flashfire raced through her system as desire spread. She sank against him, and instantly his arms tightened, his mouth grew firmer, less tentative and more demanding. He kissed her as though she were the only thing in his entire world, his tongue invading her mouth in a basic, primitive rhythm that grew stronger, more insistent and demanding until she locked her arms around his shoulders, straining against him as he plundered her lips.
He groaned, deep in his throat, and one hand slid down her back to her bottom, sliding around and over the tender flesh, tracing the crease of her buttocks with one long finger, then clasping her firmly in his hand and lifting her strongly against him. She gasped against his mouth as she felt his hard body pressing into her, the blatant surging against her soft belly and the driving need his shifting hips communicated. She realized her hips were moving, too, slipping back and forth against him as her body sought relief from the need racing through her.
His mouth blazed a trail down her throat, pressing a string of stinging kisses to her collarbone and firmly sliding down over her heated flesh until his face was pressed into the full swell of her breasts. He turned his head, and she jumped as a hot breath seared her tender flesh, and then his mouth began to move again. Her head fell back as he brushed over one straining nipple, suckling her through the thin fabric of her gown, and she moaned, twisting against him, her hands coming up to clutch at his hair, combing restlessly through the black silk strands.
He lifted his head, and he was breathing heavily, harsh gasps for air. “Where can we go?”
His voice was so deep and guttural, it was nearly a growl, and her feminine nature recognized the primitive possession in the sound, her body drawing into a nearly painful knot of need. “The—the garden house,” she said breathlessly. “Down this path—oh!”
Before she could complete the sentence, he had lifted her into his arms, his head coming down again, his lips slanting over hers in a complete claim that it never occurred to her to resist. She might not know his name, but her body recognized his. And as he began to stride down the path, she relaxed in his arms and gave herself to the embrace that should have felt strange but only felt…right, as if finally, after twenty-seven years of waiting, she’d found what she hadn’t even known she’d been waiting for.
Two
On the dot of seven, Rafe knocked on the door of the Royal Princess of Wynborough’s suite. Almost immediately, the double doors swung inward, as if Elizabeth had been waiting on the other side.
Elizabeth. She’d been nameless for five months now. Her real name was going to take some getting used to.
Her eyes widened, and he knew she must be contrasting the image he’d presented yesterday in his work clothes with the charcoal suit he donned now. She shouldn’t be that surprised—she’d seen him in a tux.
For that matter, he thought with a surge of grim humor, she’d seen him wearing a whole lot less.
“Good evening,” she said, stepping back and waving a hand in invitation for him to enter. “Please come in.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” He gave the title the faintest emphasis and was gratified to see a blush climb her neck as he stepped into the room.
She was dressed simply, in a pretty, lightweight dress in a silky fabric that swirled loosely around her body and draped over the full swells of her breasts, drawing his eye as he passed her. His body sat up and took notice as he remembered the soft mounds that had filled his hands a few months ago…. He mentally shook himself, annoyed that he was letting his sex drive get the better of his good judgment again. Just like the first time he’d seen her.
The Children’s Fund Ball was an annual masquerad
e event, and he still didn’t know what had possessed him to attend. Once he’d seen this woman, though, he’d ceased to wonder. He and his mysterious lady had complied with the ball’s unspoken rule, not identifying themselves. Still, he was almost positive his paramour had been one of the princesses. Her demeanor had been refined, almost archaically elegant compared to the brash American women whom he’d seen throw themselves at a man. Even compared to other women at the ball, British royals as well as those of his native isle, she’d seemed exceptionally genteel.
If she were one of the princesses, that would make sense. He’d never even met one of them, despite his own royal status. Granted, they were all several years younger than he, and he’d been away at school most of his life before he’d escaped Thortonburg, but rumor had it that King Phillip employed the tightest security to keep his remaining family safe.
Rafe supposed that if his infant son had been kidnapped and presumably killed, he’d be overprotective with his other children, too. Yes, given all those factors, he’d been nearly positive that his lady fair had been one of King Phillip’s four beautiful daughters.
“Could I offer you a drink?” She had moved across the room behind him and now stood behind the small breakfast bar.
“Please.” He walked to the bar and hooked one foot around a stool, drawing it to him and propping himself on the edge of the seat with his feet splayed. “Nice place.”
“Yes. It’s very comfortable.”
“I guess you wouldn’t know what it’s like to live somewhere that wasn’t.”
Her eyes flickered to his for an instant. “I’ve never had the opportunity to find out,” she said in a neutral tone. Busying herself for a moment, she laid a napkin on the bar and set a highball glass in front of him.
He stared at the drink for a minute. “How do you know what I drink?”
The color that had begun to subside began to climb her neck again. “If you’d prefer another drink, that’s fine. This is what you were drinking…the last time.”
“This is fine.” Abruptly, he picked up the drink and took a quick gulp. When she’d first seen him yesterday in the restaurant, there had been warm, intimate welcome in the depths of her green eyes until he’d scared it away. Today, the same wide eyes held only wariness. Her hair was a beautiful copper, shiny as a new American penny. Tonight she wore it down, curling softly around her shoulders and framing her heart-shaped face.
