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Chapter 11

Aleki paced up and down the foyer, fiddling with his wooden cufflink. Cut from the branches of a local hibiscus tree, the links had been crafted by a master carver to represent the crest of Avali. His cousins Sio and Oliana had gifted them to him for his twenty-first birthday and they were one of his most prized possessions. Wearing them tonight to attend his father’s ball with Stella at his side felt right. Spending time with her, preparing for the baby had finally made him feel ready. If the mantle of sovereignty was placed upon his shoulders, he could cope. More than that, he could thrive. A rush of certainty raced through him. He could conquer anything as long as Stella was by his side. Never had he dared to hope that a shotgun marriage of convenience might so profitable to his own goals.

“You look incredible.” Her voice startled him, coming from the balustrade. Gazing up, he snagged her eyes, before letting his eyes travel down the length of her body. Everything stopped for a single moment. But one moment was enough. When time started again, along with his heart and his ability to breathe, he was dizzy with transformation.

O la’u ia. She is mine.

“You are wearing colour.” The words rasped through the dryness in his throat, gravel peppering the air.

Stella beamed as she descended the stairs. “The colour of our national flag. Don’t get used to it, but I’m thinking it might be patriotic to pop a few red pieces into rotation.”

“Let me have a proper look.”

She stood back proudly, almost eye level with him in her heels. Scarlet silk fell in waves to the floor and encased her to the wrist. The pleated bodice hugged her torso to her throat, skimming across her curves in a way that made him palms itch, save for the slivers of creamy skin that peeked out from subtle diagonal slits along her collarbones.

“Exquisite.”

Stella’s smile widened, joy radiating off her. “Do you really like it?”

“I have never seen a more stunning woman in all of my life.” Sincerity pooled in his words, weighing them with the force of his desire.

“You don’t think I should have put my hair up?”

“No.” He caught an errant caramel strand, and rubbed it between his fingers. “No fancy hairstyle. No heavy-handed makeup. You are enough. And you, in this dress? Fafine aulelei, you could have the world.”

The sound of her delight bounced off the tile of his entrance way, as she tugged him towards the door.

“And who would give me the world, Aleki?”

I would.

As soon as the car began moving down the driveway, he hit the button for the privacy window and slid across the backseat. The crisp scent of her teased at his nostrils as he nuzzled against the satin skin of her neck.

“Want to make out?”

“Oh, the romance of it all,” Stella quipped. She surveyed him again. “How would I even get into your pants? If that were my intention,” she added at his raised eyebrow.

A chuckle bubbled out of Aleki. Truthfully, the formal sarong-like lavalava came to almost his ankles, and the bulkiness of the woven pandanas cloth over it would make any downstairs action almost impossible for him. But for her?

“Your intentions have been duly noted. But for now, perhaps we could focus on me getting into yours?”

“Perhaps we could.” A smirk played over her full lips. “If I were wearing any.”

Blood rocketed to his groin.

“Tagaloa.” The name of the deity slipped out on an exhalation, the mere thought of his fiancée bare beneath her dress enough to offer up a prayer of thanks or a plea for strength, he knew not which.

Sliding to his knees on the thick pile of the car’s interior, he ran his hands up the smooth muscles of her calves.

“Aleki!” Stella’s whisper was laced with alarm. “What are you doing? Get up!”

“I am up, fafineaulelei. I could not be higher or harder. You will pay for that.” He placed a kiss on the inside of her knee as he pushed the skirts of her dress higher.

“We are in a car!” She sounded scandalised. It was adorable.

Even as his hands bunched the folds of her dress at her hips, he looked up and caught her eyes. Apprehension warred with excitement in their emerald depths. Holding Stella’s gaze, Aleki spoke slowly but firmly.

“If you think there is one place on this island or God’s green earth that I will not take you as my own, you are mistaken. You are precious to me, and I welcome any opportunity to worship you on my knees.”

Stella’s face softened. Cupping his cheek in her hand, she leaned forward and dropped a sweet kiss on his lips.

“My Prince Charming.”

Aleki skated his eyes down as she settled back against the plush leather. He held her legs open and marvelled at the sight of his hands against the honeyed flesh of her thighs. The contrast of her light tan with his darker skin was like a sepia-toned picture; shades of their desire painted across the surface of their bodies.

He bent his head to her hip, trailing soft open-mouthed kisses along the satin of her skin.

“Aleki!”

“Shhh, little star.” He nuzzled the top of her thigh. “It is rude for me to speak with my mouth full.”

Propping his fingers under the lush curve of her behind, he put his lips on her. Spurred on by Stella’s quick intake of breath, he ran his tongue lazily down the centre of her, lapping at her entrance. The return journey took longer. He dragged his tongue over each centimeter of her succulent flesh and then back again, climbing higher each time until he finally swiped across the bundle of nerves at the top.

Pleasure laced with pain coursed through him as Stella gripped his hair and hissed her approval.

Humming in satisfaction, he closed his lips around the tiny bud. Suckling softly, he teased at her entrance with a finger, easing in as he laved his tongue across her sweet spot. The heat of Stella clenching against his fingers ratcheted Aleki’s own arousal and he growled his desire against her delicate flesh. The pressure increased as he added a second digit. He looked up sharply to see rapture etched on her face in stark relief, a vision in red as her back arched against the seat.

“Look at me, Stella.”

She wrenched her eyes to his and he felt it as soon as their gazes crashed onto one another. The pulse of her passion deep inside. His tongue slid out once more and pressed against her intimately, nothing but heat and pressure on her most sensitive spot. Green fire flashed in her eyes as she watched him watching her. Then she was cresting, the tight wet pull of her swallowing his fingers as her thighs shook under the grip of his other hand and she cried out, a hushed keen that would ring in his memory for eternity.

She sank back against the seat, one hand languidly reaching out to caress his shoulder as she hummed her satisfaction.

He had just finished rearranging her dress, smoothing the fabric over her thighs when the car pulled to a stop.

“Do I look alright?” Nerves stilted Stella’s voice as she fluffed her hair. Aleki returned the traditionally patterned fabric square he’d been using to discreetly wipe his mouth to the pocket of his collarless black dress shirt and caught one of her hands as it threaded through her silken waves.

“You look even more beautiful now than you did half an hour ago.”

“Charmer.” Linking her fingers with his, she squeezed. “You’ll take care of me in there?”

“Nothing could stop me.”

“Let’s do it then.”

He rushed around the back of the car to beat Andreas there, to be the one to open her door and reveal her to the waiting media. Pride swelled in him at the collective intake of breath and the flashes of cameras that met her as she stepped out of the car. She was so poised that anyone unaware of the situation might have suspected she’d been born to this life. He offered her his arm and ate up the secret smile she bestowed upon him as she took it.

The Avali media and few international reporters stationed at the entrance to the palace were respectful and polite. Tala was conspicuously absent. Aleki answered several questions on his way in and he and Stella both accepted congratulations on their engagement. Just before they crossed the threshold, Aleki paused and passed a small envelope to a member of King Tama’s staff.

“What was that?” Stella enquired as they meandered down the main hallway, lined with paintings of former rulers.

Aleki shrugged. “A token of goodwill for the local reporters.”

“You paid them?” She sounded incredulous.

“I offered them a small gift for their kindness towards us. The international media is a slavering beast, it will eat a person up and spit out the bones without remorse. This is not the Pacific way, but globalisation can be either a friend or a foe. The local media have given up time with their families to be here tonight outside of their work hours. Nobody shouted obnoxious questions at us and they didn’t take pictures of you until you were completely out of the car, with your dress in place. That is the spirit of Polynesia, and it deserves to be rewarded.”

“But journalism is supposed to be free from politics.”

A deep belly laugh rumbled up out of him. “Oh, little star, my token will not exclude me from criticism. The papers will tell me exactly what they think of my choices, both political and personal. But they will not be unnecessarily rude. They will not buy tawdry photographs from other countries when we take our honeymoon. And most of the gift will go back into the local economy. For some families, it may mean a school trip for their oldest, a pair of rugby boots or a new book, a special night out for the parents where they can reconnect with each other. When you give with good intentions, that goodness lives on in the recipient.”

“What a gorgeous sentiment.” Stella’s approval wrapped around Aleki like a blanket. She continued, with a smirk. “So, tawdry photographs huh?”

“Do you doubt it?”

“Never.” Her grin lit up the hallway. “And where might this honeymoon take place?”

Before Aleki could answer, the clearing of a throat behind him caught their attention. Twisting his head, he spotted the familiar face of Iosefa, his father’s personal secretary.

“Your Highness.”

“Iosefa.”

The older gentleman nodded towards Stella. “Miss.”

“Malo.” She greeted Iosefa in flawless Avalian, dipping her head in acknowledgement.

“His Majesty would like to speak with you privately, Your Highness.”

“Now?”

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