Robyn Donald - Royal and Ruthless

Lexie frowned. It sounded like a throwaway question, yet somehow she sensed a thread of intention, of significance, in his words that made her feel uneasy and dangerously vulnerable. Was he exploring her personality, or just keeping the conversation alive?

Almost certainly the latter, common sense told her, and yet…

Because the silence threatened to last too long, she set out briskly across the bridge. ‘As a vet I don’t like too much excitement—it tends to involve going out in the middle of the night in filthy weather to deal with sick, very expensive animals and their frantic owners! But I certainly enjoy variety.’

There, that was innocuous enough, surely? She didn’t want to get into anything heavy here. Although they’d kissed—and he’d seemed to enjoy those kisses—she wasn’t going to let herself fall into the trap of believing they’d meant anything more to him than the superficial response of a virile man to a woman of the right age to mate.

A woman whose instant arousal, she thought with a burning shame, must make it obvious she found him irresistible.

But then, he’d be used to that response—it probably happened in every female who set eyes on him.

And to quench the flickering embers of desire she’d better stop this train of thought right now. So she asked, ‘What about you?’

‘I enjoy moments of peace,’ Rafiq said, his tone giving nothing away. ‘But I think a life of unalloyed tranquillity and harmony could become tedious after a while. I relish a challenge.’

‘Oh, so do I,’ she responded, and changed the subject abruptly. ‘The water lilies here must be different from the ones at home. Ours fold up at dusk.’

‘So do ours.’ He smiled. ‘I believe the petals of these ones are held in place by candle wax. It is a local tradition.’

A few steps brought them to the pavilion, where Rafiq held the drapes back with a lean hand. ‘Do you play chess?’

‘Badly,’ she replied, walking into the airy space and looking around. ‘I don’t think I’d be even the mildest challenge to anyone who can think more than two moves ahead.’

But several hours later, after they’d eaten, she was sitting on the edge of her chair and glowering at an elaborate chessboard, her mind working frantically.

Rafiq said evenly, ‘You lied.’

Her head came up, and she met his half-closed green eyes with a flash of fire. ‘I don’t lie.’

‘You said you were no challenge.’ His voice was amused.

‘You’re winning,’ she pointed out. ‘In fact, I can’t see how I’m going to get out of this situation.’

He lifted his brows. ‘If you want to know—’

‘No! Give me another few minutes to see if I can do it.’

His quick grin—so unlike his usual air of sophisticated forcefulness that it startled her—was quickly controlled. ‘Go ahead,’ he invited.

Frowning, Lexie puzzled over the board, saw what seemed to be the perfect move, and almost made it—until further intense thought revealed it would involve a check to her king a few moves further on.

Rafiq had a poker player’s face; not a single emotion escaped his control. She was acutely, violently aware of him at his ease in the cane chair, long limbs relaxed, the light from a dozen soft lamps highlighting the arrogant sweep of cheekbones, the tough jawline and the hooded green of his eyes.

Lexie’s breath caught in her throat. Behind him she could see several elegant loungers, and a day bed—a sinful thing, more than big enough to hold two people during the hours of a lazy tropical siesta. A puff of breeze smoothed over her skin, sensitising it…

Every coherent thought died a swift and unappreciated death, drowned by a sensuous recklessness. I want you , she thought, the need so violent she wondered for a panicky second if she’d actually said it.

Colour burned her cheeks. She had to get out of there, away from this man—away from this love nest with its scented flowers and gentle lamplight. Abruptly she said, ‘Do you mind if I call it a day? I’ll concede if you’ll tell me how to get out of this.’

One black brow climbed, but he showed her.

As they blocked out the moves, he said in a casual voice, ‘In two days’ time I will be attending a special function—the opening ceremony for another hotel, but this time the celebrations are for those who worked on the building, and those who will work in it. A people’s party, much less formal than the affair you attended the other night. If you feel up to it, would you like to come with me?’

Completely taken aback, she flushed again, searching for words. ‘I feel fine, but I don’t want to intrude…I’ll be quite happy here, you know.’

His all-too-potent smile sent erotic little shivers through her. ‘There will be music and dancing and excellent food, and very few speeches.’

Torn, Lexie hesitated. Being with Rafiq was starting to mean far too much. A sensible woman would find some good excuse to refuse.

Deciding that being sensible was vastly overrated, she strove for some of his confidence. ‘I’d love to come. It sounds like great fun.’

‘I hope so.’

Rafiq wondered what was going on behind that serene face. She didn’t realise that she was actually a prisoner in the castle; he hoped she never would.

Not for the first time he wondered how an intelligent, accomplished woman like her had been duped by Gastano. Was she bored with the man? She hadn’t tried to contact the count, and certainly she’d shown no signs of missing him.

Which could mean that to her the relationship was as superficial as Gastano’s charm.

It seemed likely. Rafiq’s mind ranged back to the first time they’d met; she’d been offhand with the count, and in spite of Gastano’s presence she’d been acutely aware of Rafiq.

As physically aware as he’d been of her.

Lust at first sight, he thought, controlling a cold, humourless smile. His jaw hardened as Lexie began to pack away the chessmen in their carved box.

Did she know Gastano intended marriage? It didn’t seem likely. Or was this her way of showing Gastano that she’d wanted no more than an affair with him?

If so, she had no understanding of her lover. Her family connections would be worth more than gold to the count. As her husband, he’d have entrée into a milieu he’d long coveted—the charmed world of royal power and influence.

The count would be furious if he thought the woman he’d targeted as a ticket to respectability and even greater power was slipping through his fingers.

And furious men made mistakes.

Gastano had already tried to establish contact with Lexie. Rafiq recalled Gastano’s email note, written in a tone he probably intended to be disarming, but with enough innuendo to summon a shockingly forthright and very territorial response from Rafiq. And although he couldn’t find a logical reason for it, he still felt strongly that hiding her away from Gastano was the only way to keep her safe.

Because of Hani? He dismissed that thought. His sister had been naïve; Lexie was not. Even if she had been when she met Gastano, two months as his mistress would have put paid to any innocence.

The question Rafiq couldn’t ask nagged at him. Had she responded to Gastano with the same wildfire passion she’d revealed in his own arms?

The thought made his fists clench. Watching the way the golden lamplight shifted and shimmered across her bent head as she carefully sorted the chessmen, Rafiq wondered again if his objectivity was being hijacked by his response to her. Those smoky blue eyes, half-hidden by her long, black lashes, might mask her thoughts, but nothing could disguise that softly sensuous mouth.

His gaze hardened as Lexie slid the queens into place, capable fingers moving swiftly, her lashes casting shadowy fans on her exquisite skin.