Kathleen Creighton - The Rebel King

Perhaps it was the wine he'd drunk, but he didn't feel terribly alarmed by this odd occurrence. Merely - understandably - a bit surprised. As he lay on his back gazing up into what he was certain was the most beautiful face he 'd ever seen in his life - rather feline, like the rest of her, he decided, with wide cheekbones and pointed chin, and exotically tilted eyes - the woman placed her finger against his lips and whispered, "Shhh… " Then she lowered her head and kissed him.

Not a casual brushing of the lips, meant to be an expression of thanks for breaking her fall, perhaps, or even a droll bit of teasing. No - this was the kiss of fantasy; deep and warm and lush, it seemed to vault right over all those bothersome - to a young lad's way of thinking-preliminary stages of intimacy, and plunge straight to the heart and soul of the matter: Sex! And the lithe and supple body squirming into even more intimate alignment with his seemed to second that idea most heartily.

Nikolas's state of shock-induced paralysis didn't last long; his was not a passive nature. But as his body was flaring to life like a gas burner under a lighted match, he heard a pre-emptory masculine voice somewhere above his head say loudly, "Excuse me, you didn't happen to see - Oh, I say!"

Opening his eyes and aiming them - as much as was possible under the circumstances - in the direction of the voice, Nikolas saw a man's head hovering atop the half wall that separated his balcony from the one next to it.

"Terribly sorry - excuse the intrusion -Pardon, Monsieur… " The head disappeared, and the string of apologies died to an annoyed but unintelligible mutter on the other side of the wall.

It was several more enjoyable - and volatile - seconds before the woman detached her mouth from his, and even that process she managed to turn into a sensual adventure. With her lips separated from his only by their warm mingled breath, she murmured a pleased and rather surprised, "Hmm… " And then she lowered her mouth again.

He suspected she meant it to be a briefer kiss this time, a sweet, perhaps regretful, farewell peck. But Nikolas had had enough of games, at least the way this one was being played - according to her rules. Before she knew what he was about, he tightened his arms around her and rolled her under him, and knew a fierce, hot shaft of pleasure at her gasp of surprise.

"Who are you? What the hell is this?" he asked in a rasping whisper. He could feel her heart beating a wild tattoo against his chest.

And her catlike eyes narrowed and tilted with her smile as she whispered back. "Serendipity."

"Rhia de Hayes," Rhia said, eyeing her assignment as she might a tiger who'd stopped suddenly in midspring and begun instead to purr and rub his head against her legs. The smile that had flared so unexpectedly in his fierce gray eyes to spread like sunlight over his rather austere features was intriguing, for sure, and she had to admit she liked it a lot better than the frown. But she didn't trust it for a moment. What it reminded her of was a limerick she'd heard somewhere, about a young lady who'd smiled as she went for a ride on a tiger. As Rhia recalled the limerick, when they'd returned from that ride the lady was inside, and the smile was on the face of the tiger.

What is he smiling about? As if he knows something…as if he knows me. But we've never met before. Have we?

Uncertainty wasn't a condition Rhia suffered often, or well. But so far this whole assignment hadn't gone as expected, and that had her feeling off balance. She liked losing control of situations even less than she liked being unsure of herself, and she meant to remedy that state of affairs as quickly as possible. Rhia de Hayes had never failed to complete an assignment successfully, and she wasn't about to sully that record now.

Of course, none of her previous assignments had been quite like this one. Her specialty within the Lazlo Group was retrieving lost children of the rich, royal or famous, and while it was true that this was undoubtedly the offspring of a man who could claim to be all three of those things, there was nothing even remotely childlike about Nikolas Donovan.

Except for that damn smile. There's mischief in that smile. Reminds me of a kid hiding a big ol' bullfrog behind his back.

"So, Rhia de Hayes…they've sent you to 'bring me in,' I expect." he said as he handed back her ID. His eyes were veiled now, and his voice was that languid upper-class vaguely British drawl she'd always found so annoying. "What were you planning to do, conk me on the head, heave me over your shoulder and haul me back to Silvershire?"

"I was plannin ' on checkin' the place while you were gone." Rhia said, leaning heavily on the nasal Cajun twang of her childhood; she could out-drawl just about anybody on the planet, if that was the way he was going to be. She glared at him as she tucked the ID back in her inside jacket pocket, inadvertently allowing him another glimpse of the silk chemise that had apparently so unnerved him before. And she reveled in the spark of response that flared in his cool gray eyes. Veiling the triumph in hers, she said accusingly. "You came back early. I figured you'd be havin' supper out."

"It was going to rain," Nikolas said with a dismissive shrug, "and I didn't have an umbrella. So, what was it you hoped to find hidden away amongst my socks and tightie whities? Guns, knives, explosives? Leaflets inciting the violent overthrow of the monarchy? Evidence of what a dangerous fellow I am?"

"Oh, I think I know what a dangerous fellow you are." Rhia said, and instantly wanted to bite off her tongue. Not only was it an inappropriate comment to make to a royal heir, but the voice that uttered it had turned low and husky, become almost a growl. It wasn't as though she'd never heard such a sound coming from her own throat before-on…certain occasions, yes, but never under these circumstances. Not while on a job, put it that way.

She wasn't sure which surprised her most, that or the small vibration that had begun to hum somewhere deep inside her chest.

Half angry with herself, she tore away the clip that had held her hair clubbed tightly to the back of her head and shook the thick dark waves down to her shoulders.

"You could easily have beat a hasty retreat when you heard me at the door," Nikolas remarked in a relaxed, conversational tone. "I assume you had an escape route planned. Why didn't you use it?" As he spoke, his gaze followed the motions of her hand and hair, his gray eyes heavy-lidded and amused, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her.

Of course he knows, dummy. Rhia repressed a shiver as she became intensely conscious of the cool silk of her chemise licking across her hardened nipples. How could he not know, when the evidence was right here in front of his face?

But to zip up her jacket now would be an admission of awareness she wasn't willing to make, and besides, she'd never been shy about her body. If it was going to go shivery and shameless over Nik Donovan, well…so be it. It wouldn't affect her ability to do the job she'd come to do.

And, if it came to that, she was also well aware of the effect her body had on members of the opposite sex, and she wasn't above using it to distract an opponent, if the occasion demanded.

When did the assignment become my opponent?

She faced this one unflinchingly and inhaled deeply, and smiled at the slight but unmistakable hitch she detected in his breathing. "I'd planned on coming back and knocking on your door. Talking to you-you know, like a civilized human being, one to another? Figured since I was already here I might as well save some time, see if I could persuade you to do the right thing and come back with me voluntarily."