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His blue eyes speared her in the chair where she sat, and he took three steps forward before realizing he was in the presence of the King. Abruptly, he spun and bowed formally from the waist. “Your Majesty.”
He crossed to the Queen and took the hand she extended, bowing low over it and kissing it in a formal salutation. “Your Majesty.”
“Welcome, Raphael.”
Before the Queen could add anything else, Rafe stalked around to stand before Elizabeth. He held out his hand in regal demand, and when she placed hers in it, he bowed again. But he didn’t give her hand the perfunctory peck she expected. Instead, he turned it over and slowly, leisurely pressed a kiss into the center of her palm. When she felt his tongue tracing secret patterns on her flesh, she tried to jerk her hand away, but Rafe held it firmly for another moment before raising his head. “Your Royal Highness.”
“Subservience doesn’t suit you,” Elizabeth said, snatching her hand back and linking it tightly with the other in her lap, ignoring both her mother’s snort of amusement and the leap of her own pulse at his touch. “So just stop it. How on earth did you get here so fast?”
“Ever heard of private planes?” His voice was surly. Grouchy. Thoroughly out of sorts. She guessed she couldn’t blame him.
“Raphael, Elizabeth has just finished telling us of your intentions.” King Phillip stepped forward. Gone was the indulgent father, and in his place was the commanding monarch few ever saw in action.
“Good.” Rafe didn’t even appear to notice the monarch’s attitude. “Then you know that I have chased your stubborn, spoiled, opinionated daughter across the Atlantic Ocean because I intend to marry her. I shouldn’t think that would be a problem for you.”
“Of course not.” The King’s stern face softened slightly. “You are more than welcome in this family…if you can convince my ‘stubborn, spoiled, opinionated daughter’ to marry you.” He looked over Elizabeth’s head to his wife, then, offering her his arm, said, “Come, my dear. These young people have things to discuss.”
“Really, that’s not necessary,” Elizabeth began, turning around, trying to send her mother a silent message with her eyes. “Mother, you don’t have to leave.”
“I’m afraid duty calls me, as well,” the Queen said, shrugging as if she were helpless to alter the matter. She winked at Elizabeth—winked!—and took her husband’s arm as the two of them exited the room.
Seven
A heavy silence fell. She kept her eyes on her clasped hands, refusing to look at Rafe. Finally, when he didn’t speak, she could stand the suspense no longer. “You can’t make me marry you.”
“All right.”
She raised her head abruptly and stared at him. “All right?”
He shrugged, and the motion of his wide shoulders shifted the fabric of the fine leather jacket he wore. “I can’t force you to marry me. We’ll let a judge decide what kind of custody arrangements would work best.”
“You—you wouldn’t do that.” She put a hand to her throat.
“By now you should know me well enough to realize I mean exactly what I say.”
“But that’s half the problem,” she said heatedly. In her agitation she rose from the chair and gestured wildly with her hands. “I don’t know you. We’ve spent a total of only a few weeks in each other’s company in our entire lives. How can you think we could m
ake a marriage work?”
Standing had been a mistake. Rafe stepped toward her, slipping his arms around her and gently rubbing his big hands up and down her spine. “Why couldn’t we? Lots of people make successful marriages from much less.” His embrace felt so wonderful, his arms so strong and secure, that she could feel her willpower draining away like an overused battery.
“Name some.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.
“That’s easy. My parents.”
She looked up at him. Another mistake. His hard lips and the enticing dimples grooving his cheeks were much, much too close. Hastily she put a hand against his chest, holding him away when he would have pulled her closer. “No kissing!” She could see the amusement gleaming in his eyes. Averting her gaze, she stared at the metal zipper tab where he’d left it halfway up its track on his jacket. “Was their marriage arranged?”
“Their families wanted to cement a business relationship,” Rafe said. “My grandfather ran through enough of the Thortonburg money that a marriage to a wealthy noble-woman was a necessity for my father.”
“How sad.” She couldn’t imagine having her husband picked out for her. “My father did the exact opposite. He defied his own father to marry a penniless American. Quite a scandal at the time.” She smiled. “But they never have regretted it.”
“They seem very happy.” Rafe sounded almost as if he doubted it. “But we aren’t discussing your parents. We’re talking about us. When I realized you’d slipped out of Vegas without me—”
A knock at the door interrupted whatever he had been going to say. Hastily, Elizabeth pulled herself away from his embrace and smoothed her wrinkled travel clothes. “Come in.”
“Welcome home, Your Highness.” The tall, handsome man in the uniform of royal security stopped before her and bowed over Elizabeth’s hand.
“Lance!” Ignoring protocol, Elizabeth reached up to hug the dark-haired man. “Lose any princesses lately?”
