Nina Bruhns - Capturing the Crown Bundle

“Princess,” Russell teased, a wide grin on his darkly tanned face, “are you attacking me?”

“With every fiber of my being,” she breathed. “And it’s Amelia. Amelia,” she emphasized breathlessly for what felt like the umpteenth time. When would he stop thinking of her as a title and start thinking of her as a woman? His woman.

“Amelia,” he repeated, his voice low, husky with unspent passion.

She could almost feel her name dance along her skin, encased in his breath. It drove her crazy.

Everything that came after was a blur, like the events in someone else’s dream.

The rest of the clothing, both hers and his, wound up in a tangled heap of brocades, silks and beads on the floor—as tangled as their bodies swiftly became.

She couldn’t get enough of him.

The more excitement rose within her body in an ever-heightening crescendo, the more Amelia found herself wanting more. Wanting him. She desperately wanted the sensation he had created within her to continue forever, or as close to forever as was humanly possible.

Russell did his best to accommodate her. His pleasure in part derived from the way Amelia moved beneath him, from the moans that escaped her lips as he familiarized his hands and then his lips with every inch of her body. With swift, clever, promising movements, he brought her to climax upon climax. To joy upon joy. Joy that, only a short while ago, had been completely unimagined for both of them.

Within the shelter of an evening, she became his kindred soul. He could read or sense everything she was experiencing. He could literally see it in Amelia’s face. With little effort, he wrapped himself in it, experiencing the moment vicariously with her.

He’d forgotten how almost tooth-jarring falling in love—making love—could be.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, feeling as if he would burst, Russell laced his hands with hers and raised them over her head. His eyes on hers, he lowered his body slowly until the imprint of hers was indelibly pressed against it.

And then he entered her.

This time, there was no small, almost imperceptible protest at the merging. No muffled whimper of pain that she tried to keep from him. This time, there was nothing but joy—for both of them.

The island of time that they had been allowed to carve out for one another faded away all too quickly. By ten the next morning, it seemed to have occurred almost a lifetime away, even though they had made love several times during the course of the night.

With daylight came obligations and matters to see to. They both knew that.

But still, she found herself wanting to break rules, to grab up her happiness with both hands and hold it to her before something or someone made it disappear.

She watched him as he got out of bed. Though she knew it was ridiculous, a hint of loneliness whispered along the edges of her consciousness. “No one would fault us if we remained here.” She raised her eyes to his. “In our own private kingdom where the rest of the world has no access.”

Russell leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re wrong. It does have access.” Before she could protest or ask what he meant, he lightly tapped her forehead where he had just kissed it. “Right there. It barges in at the least opportune time, demanding attention.”

She supposed he was right. Reluctantly, Amelia rose, tossing aside the sheet that had covered her. She felt remarkably unselfconscious about the fact that she was nude. The nightgown that her dressmaker had designed especially for last night had never seen the light of day. It was still tucked away in the bureau drawer.

No one was more surprised than she at the way she felt. But right now, there was no shame, no embarrassment after the dew of afterglow had faded. She felt at ease like this with him.

It was as things should be, Amelia thought, crossing to the closet where members of the staff had already placed any garment that she could possibly want within easy access. Opening the door, she drew a dressing gown from its hanger. Slipping it on, she purposely left the two sides hanging open as she turned around to face him.

“If I had married Reginald, we would be on our way to our honeymoon. To Hawaii, where he would undoubtedly have hit on someone even as the bellboy was checking in our luggage.” She raised her head slightly, her eyes on his as she smiled. “This is much better.”

He had every intention of leaving the room. Of meeting with Lucia Cordez as had been arranged when she’d arrived yesterday. But the sight of Amelia’s soft, inviting curves peering out from beneath the royal-blue silk robe completely destroyed his resolve as well as his game plan.

A man was only so strong and then no more.

What would a few more minutes hurt? It wasn’t as if Corbett Lazlo’s computer expert was going anywhere in the immediate future. For all he knew, Lucia hadn’t been able to find anything yet. The password that Reginald had implemented on his files was, perforce, a bear to break. The late prince had been gleefully proud of that.

Reginald had implemented it not to keep the enemies of Silvershire from knowing any of his private affairs, or even his own personal enemies, but to make sure that his father remained in the dark about his less-than-noble activities.

At thirty years old, Reginald had been a child to the last breath in his body.

Russell couldn’t help wondering now if, for some reason, some secret piece of information on his computer could have ultimately been what had gotten Reginald killed. They might never find out.

The possibilities as to what had led to Reginald’s death were endless. They could also be nonexistent. Either way, if Lucia had come up with an answer, it would keep for a few more minutes. Perhaps even for half an hour.

If he could get his fill of Amelia in that amount of time.

It amazed him, after the night they had spent together, that he still had any energy left to walk, much less to make love with her again. He knew his limitations and he had never been a machine, the way Reginald boasted that he was. But Amelia seemed to bring out a supply of hidden reserves he hadn’t even been aware of possessing, he thought with a grateful smile.

“Yes,” he agreed, crossing to the closet where she stood and slipping the robe from her shoulders. The garment slid from her arms to the floor. “Much better.”

Amelia rose up on her bare toes, brushing her nude body against his.

Again, everything tightened in anticipation even as drumrolls sounded up and down her limbs and her loins moistened. With a soft laugh, her eyes gleaming, she threaded her arms around his neck. Her body pressed closely against his ever-hardening one.

The next half hour was lost. As was the hour that came after.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Russell apologized as he strode into the conference room where Lucia had set up her temporary office.

He had just now finished buttoning his jacket. Russell didn’t have to glance at his watch to know that it was close to noon, almost two hours later than he’d originally said he would come to speak with her. His hair was still damp in places from the shower he’d taken, the one that normally would have taken him less than five minutes. It, too, had fallen behind schedule because, at the last minute, Amelia had slipped into the stall with him.

He’d never enjoyed getting clean as much as he had this time.

Lucia Cordez raised the oversized glasses she used for reading and slid them onto the top her head, giving the duke her undivided attention. She was wearing a pair of cutoff denim shorts that showed her long legs off to their best advantage and a sleeveless light pink blouse that seemed more suited to the beach than to the dark business at hand.