Royals: For Their Royal Heir

His eyes got darker as Leila self-consciously took off her shirt and trousers, very aware of their chain-store dullness.

When she was in her bra and pants she hesitated, and Alix growled softly, ‘Keep going.’

Leila fought back the memory of that other woman and reached behind her to undo her bra, letting it fall forward and off. The bare skin of her breasts prickled and her nipples tightened. Avoiding Alix’s gaze now, she pulled down her pants with an economic movement, stepping out of them and laying them neatly on her pile of clothes.

She was naked on a beach, in a tropical paradise with an equally naked man. The reality was too much to take in, so with a whoop of disbelief and sheer joy Leila ran for the sea, feeling the warm, salty water embrace her. And then she dived deep under an oncoming wave before she exploded into pieces completely.

* * *

Leila wandered through Alix’s house dressed in nothing but one of his oversized T-shirts, her hair in a tangled knot on top of her head. She’d never been so consistently undressed in her life, and after her initial self-consciousness she’d realised to her shock that she was something of a sensualist, relishing the freedom. Much as she’d exulted in the feel of her naked body in the sea on that first day.

Since they’d arrived at his house after skinny-dipping three days before, damp and salty from the sea, they’d barely left his bedroom. He’d retrieved food from the kitchen at intermittent intervals, and they’d gorged on each other in a feast of the senses. Leila’s inexperience was fast becoming a thing of the past under Alix’s expert tutelage.

When Leila had woken a short time before it had been the first time Alix hadn’t been in bed beside her, or in the shower, or bringing food back to the bedroom. So she’d come to find him.

And now she was taking in the splendour of his house properly for the first time. It was luxurious without being ostentatious. Mostly in tones of soothing off-white and grey. Muslin drapes billowed in the soft island breeze through open windows. It truly was paradise, and Leila felt a pang that her mother was gone and couldn’t experience this.

Little objets d’art were dotted here and there—tastefully. Leila stopped before a small portrait that hung in the main foyer area and her jaw dropped when she realised she must be looking at an original Picasso.

A soft sound from nearby made Leila whirl around, and her face flamed when she saw an attractive middle-aged, casually dressed woman looking at her with a warm smile on her face.

The woman put out a hand. ‘Sorry to startle you, Miss Verughese. I was wondering if you’d like some lunch? I’m Matilde—Alix’s roving housekeeper.’

She had an American accent. Leila forced an embarrassed smile. She hadn’t seen any staff yet. She gestured to her clothes—or lack of them. ‘Sorry, I was just looking for Mr Saint—that is... Alix.’

Matilde smiled wider. ‘Don’t worry, honey, that’s what this island is all about—relaxation. You’ll find Alix in his study, just down the hall. Why don’t I prepare a nice lunch for you both on the terrace? It’ll be ready in about half an hour.’

Leila smiled back at the woman, who was clearly friendly enough with Alix to be on first-name terms. ‘Please call me Leila—and that sounds lovely.’

The woman was turning away, and then she turned back suddenly and said, sotto voce to Leila, ‘You know, he’s never brought a woman here before.’

And then, with a wink, she was disappearing down the corridor, leaving Leila with a belly full of butterflies. She hated it that it made her so happy to know this wasn’t routine for him.

Leila wandered down the hall, with its gleaming polished wooden floors. She heard a low, deep voice and followed it into a room to see Alix, bare-chested, sitting at a desk with a laptop open before him. He was on the phone. And he was frowning.

The room was as beautiful as the rest of the house, with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. Books that looked well used.

He looked up and saw her, and some indecipherable expression crossed his face before he said something Leila couldn’t hear and put down the phone. He closed his laptop.

Leila felt as if she’d intruded on something and put out a hand. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

Alix stood up and Leila saw that he was wearing only low-slung, faded jeans. Her insides sizzled. He looked amazing in a suit and tuxedo, but like this...he was edible.

‘You’re not disturbing me. Sorry for leaving you...’

He came and stood before her and Leila imagined she could feel the electricity crackle between them.

‘I bumped into Matilde,’ she babbled. ‘She seems lovely. She’s making us lunch and it’ll be on the terrace in half an—’

Alix put a finger to Leila’s mouth and quirked a sexy smile. ‘Half an hour?’

Leila nodded.

Alix took his hand away and scooped Leila up into his arms before she knew what was happening. He was soon climbing up the stairs and Leila hissed, ‘She’s making lunch, Alix. We can’t just disappear—’

They were at the bedroom door by now, and the sight of the tumbled bed made Leila stop talking. Apparently they could.

* * *

When they finally did make it down to the terrace, much later that day, Matilde was totally discreet and delivered a feast of tapas-like food. Salads and pasta. American-style wings and ribs. Seafood—spicy fish and rice, crab claws with garlic sauce. Lobster. Chilled white wine.

Leila had wondered if they would even make a dent in the feast laid before them, but just when she was licking her fingers after eating spicy fish she caught Alix’s amused gaze.

‘What?’

He leant forward. ‘You have some sauce on the corner of your lip.’

Leila darted out her tongue and encountered Alix’s finger, because he’d reached out to scoop it up. Immediately a wanton carnality entered Leila’s blood and she moved so that she could suck Alix’s finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip, much as he’d shown her how to—

She let his finger go with an abrupt pop, aghast at how easily she was becoming a slave to this man and her desires.

She found herself blurting out the first thing that came into her head to try and diffuse the intensity. ‘Is it true that you’ve never brought a woman here?’ She immediately regretted her words. Damn her runaway mouth!

Hurriedly she said, ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that—it doesn’t matter.’

Alix’s voice was wry. ‘I should have known Matilde couldn’t resist. She’s a romantic at heart after all—as I think are you, Leila.’

She looked at Alix, horror flooding her at the thought that he might think— She shook her head. She forced all the boneless, mushy feelings out of her body and head and said firmly, ‘No, I’m not. I’m a realist, and I know what this is—a moment in time. And I’m fine with that— believe me.’

Alix looked at Leila in the flickering candlelight. The island was soft and fragrant around them. Like her. Apparently he didn’t need to be worried that she’d got the wrong idea from Matilde, and he wasn’t sure why that thought wasn’t giving him more of a sense of comfort. What? Did he want her to be falling for him?

She had her profile towards him and he was stunned all over again at her very regal beauty. Totally unadorned and all the more astounding because of it. In the last couple of days her skin had lost its pale glow and become more rich. Her Indian heritage was obvious, giving her that air of exotic mystery. Her green eyes stood out even more.

He felt a pang of guilt when he recalled the conversation he’d had with Andres to set up the photo opportunity. It would be a far less intrusive photo than most of those he’d had taken with other women, so why did he feel so uncomfortable about it? And guilty...?

It didn’t help to ease his conscience when Leila looked at him then and he couldn’t read the expression on her face or in her eyes. It irritated him—as if she’d retreated behind a shield.

‘Do you think you’ll ever regain your throne in Isle Saint Croix?’

Alix blinked, jerked unceremoniously back to reality. Immediately he was suspicious—but then he felt ridiculous. She wasn’t some spy from Isle Saint Croix, sent to find out his movements.

Even so, Alix had kept his motivation secret for so long that he wasn’t about to bare his soul to anyone—even her.

He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Perhaps some day. If the political situation improves enough for me to make a bid for the throne again... But there is a lot of anger still—at my father.’

Leila had turned more towards him now, and put her elbows on the table, resting her chin on one hand. The diaphanous robe she was wearing made it easy to see the outline of her perfect braless breasts and Alix was immediately distracted. He had to drag his mind out of a very carnal place.

‘What was he like?’

The question was softly, innocently asked, and yet it aroused an immediate sense of rage in Alix. He felt restless, and got up to stand at the nearby railing that protected the terrace and looked down over the lawns below.

He heard Leila shift in her seat. ‘I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it...’

But he found that he did. Here in one of the quietest corners of the earth. With her.

He didn’t turn around. Tightly he said, ‘My father was corrupt—pure and simple. He grew up privileged and never had to ask for anything. It ruined him. His own father was a good ruler, but weak. He let my father run amok. By the time my father married my mother—who was an Italian princess from an ancient Venetian family line—he was out of control. The country was falling apart, but he didn’t notice the growing poverty or dissent. My mother didn’t endear herself to the people either. She spent more time gadding around the world than on the island—in Paris, or London, or New York.’

Alix turned around and leant back against the railing. He looked down into his wine glass and swirled the liquid. When he looked at Leila again she was rapt, eyes huge. It made something in Alix’s chest tight.

‘My father took mistresses—local girls, famous beauties, it made no difference. He had them in the castle whether my mother was there or not. I think her attitude was that once she’d given him his heir and a spare she could do what she wanted.’

Leila said softly, ‘You had a younger brother...?’

Alix nodded. ‘Yes—Max.’

He went on.

‘One day, both my parents were in residence—which was a rare enough occurrence. A young local girl was trying to see my father, holding a baby, crying. Her baby was ill and she needed help. She was claiming that it was his—which was quite probable. My father had his soldiers throw her and the baby out of the castle...’

Alix’s mouth twisted.

‘What he didn’t realise was that a mob had gathered outside, and when they saw this they attacked. Our own soldiers were soon colluding with the crowd and they turned on my father and mother. They shot my parents and my brother, but I got away.’

Alix deliberately skated over the worst of it—made it sound less horrific than it had been.

He drank the rest of his wine in one gulp.

Leila’s eyes shone with what looked suspiciously like tears. It had a profound effect on Alix.

‘Your brother...were you close to him?’

He nodded. ‘The closest. Everything I do now is to avenge his death and to make sure it’s not in vain.’

He knew instantly that he’d said too much when Leila frowned slightly. Clearly she was wondering how his living the life of a louche royal playboy tallied with avenging his brother’s untimely death.

She didn’t know, of course, of the charitable foundations he headed that supported the families of people who’d lost relatives in traumatic circumstances. Or the amount of times he’d gone on peace and reconciliation missions all over the world, observing how it was done so he’d be qualified to apply it to his own country when he returned.

Leila looked at Alix, so tall and brooding in the moonlight. Her heart ached for him—for the young boy he’d been, helpless, watching his own parents destroy their legacy—and taking his younger brother with them.

She thought of how she’d lied about her father being dead and it made her feel dishonest now, after he’d told her what had happened to him.

‘Alix,’ she began, ‘there’s something I should—’

But he cut Leila off as he moved, coming over to the table. He put his glass down. His eyes were blazing and she could see they’d dropped to her breasts, unfettered beneath her thin gown. Instantly heat sizzled in her veins and she forgot what she’d wanted to say.

‘I think we’ve talked enough for one evening. I want you, Leila.’ And then, almost as an afterthought, he said, ‘I need you.’

I need you. Those three words set Leila’s blood alight. She sensed that he needed to lose himself after telling her what he had. So she stood up, allowing him to see all of her, thinly veiled. He might have said he needed her, but she knew that this was about this.

And as Alix led her inside and up to the bedroom she reassured herself once again that that was fine.

* * *

‘Who would have thought you like to read American noir crime novels?’ Leila’s voice was teasing as she lay draped across Alix’s chest on a large sun lounger in his garden.

He lowered his book and looked at her, arching a brow. ‘And that you would like Matilde’s collection of historical romance novels covered with half-naked Neanderthals and long, flowing blonde hair?’

Leila giggled and ducked her head, and then looked up again. ‘It was my mother’s fault. She devoured them and led me astray from a young age.’

‘You must miss her.’

Leila unpeeled herself from Alix and sat up, pulling her knees to her chin and wrapping her arms around them. She looked out over the stunning view from their elevated height in the garden at the back of the house, where the pool was.

Quietly, Leila said, ‘I miss her, of course. It was always just the two of us.’

Leila was afraid to look at Alix in case he saw the emotion she was feeling. A mix of grief and happiness. And gratitude to be in this place. To be with this man and yet to know not to expect more. Even if her heart did give a little lurch at that.

Alix came up on one elbow beside her, his long half-naked body stretched out in her peripheral vision like a mouthwatering temptation.

‘The man you were with before—what did he do to you?’

Leila glanced at him. Damn. She’d forgotten that she’d mentioned Pierre, even in passing. She shrugged. ‘He was a mistake. I was naive.’

‘How?’

Leila bit her lip, and then said, ‘It was just after my mother died—I was vulnerable. He paid me attention. I believed him when he said he just wanted to get to know me, that he wouldn’t push me. But one night he came up to my apartment and said he was tired of waiting for me to put out. He tried to force himself on me—’

Alix sprang upright in one fluid move and caught Leila’s arm, turning her to face him. Anger was blazing from his eyes. ‘Did he hurt you?’

Leila was shocked at this display of emotion. ‘No. He...he tried to, but I had some mace. I threatened to use it on him. So he just insulted me and left.’

‘Dieu...Leila...he could have—’

‘I know,’ Leila said sharply. ‘But he didn’t. Thank God. And I was proved a fool for believing that he—’

Alix’s hand tightened on her arm. ‘No, you weren’t a fool. You just wanted reassurance and some attention.’

Words trembled on Leila’s lips. Words about how much she’d wanted to believe that love and security did exist. Could exist. But she couldn’t let them spill. Not here, with this man. He’d made no promises. He was offering her this slice of paradise—that was all and if she’d been foolish before she’d be triply so if she started dreaming about anything more with a man like Alix.

He urged her gently back down onto the lounger and pushed their books aside. Tugging her over his chest again, he cupped the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. ‘The man was an idiot, Leila.’

He brought her mouth down to meet his and they luxuriated in a long and explicit kiss. Leila felt emotional—as if Alix was silently communicating his gratitude to her for trusting enough in him to let him be the one to take her innocence.

The kiss got hotter, more desperate. Alix’s free hand deftly untied the strings of her bikini and she felt the flimsy material being pulled from between their bodies. Then his hand was smoothing down her back, cupping her buttock and squeezing gently, and then more firmly, long fingers covering the whole cheek, exploring close to where the seam of her body was wet and hot.

Obeying the clamouring of her blood, Leila moved over Alix so that her legs straddled his hips, breasts pressed to his broad chest. With an expert economy of movement, barely breaking their connection, mouths and body, Alix managed to extricate himself from his shorts and disposed of Leila’s bikini bottoms too. Now there were no barriers between them.

Leila had got so used to their privacy being respected that she felt completely uninhibited. Her legs were spread and she could feel him, hard and potent, at her buttocks. Alix moved so that his erection was between them, and Leila luxuriated in moving her body up and down, her juices anointing his shaft, making him groan...making them both want more.

Until she couldn’t stand teasing him any more and rose up, biting her lip as Alix donned protection, and then letting her breath out in a long hiss as he joined their bodies and he was deep inside her. Nothing existed in the world except this moment. This exquisite climb to the top of ecstasy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ALIX HAD HIS HANDS in his pockets and he was looking out over one of the back lawns to where Leila was deep in conversation with his head gardener. He smiled and realised that in spite of the fact that he was standing on the precipice of possibly the most tumultuous period of his life he’d never felt so calm...or content.

The last ten days had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d never spent so much time alone with a woman. Not even the woman he’d thought he’d lost his heart to all those years ago. That had been youthful lust mixed up with folly and arrogance and hurt pride.

Leila was easy to talk to. Disturbingly easy to talk to. He’d told her things that he’d never discussed with anyone else. Not even Andres.

And their chemistry was still white-hot. Alix frowned. He knew he had to let Leila go. Within days the news was going to break that Alix’s people had voted for him to return to Isle Saint Croix. His life would not be his own any more. And he couldn’t return to the island with a mistress. It would undo all his hard work. He had to return alone, and then find a wife.

He felt heavy inside, all of a sudden. And then Leila looked up and spotted him, a smile spreading across her face. She said something to the gardener and shook his hand. The old man looked comically delighted with himself and Alix shook his head. The Leila effect. Yesterday he’d found her in the kitchen, showing Matilde how to make a genuine hot Indian vegetarian curry.

She hurried towards him now with a box in her hand, dressed for travelling in slim-fitting trousers and a sleeveless cashmere top. He drank her in greedily...something elemental inside him growled hungrily. He wasn’t ready to let her go—and yet how could he keep her?

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.’

Alix smiled even as an audacious idea occurred to him. ‘You didn’t. Was Lucas helpful?’

Leila smiled. ‘Amazingly! He’s even given me some flower cuttings to take home in special preservative bags. I’ve never smelled anything like them. If I can just distil their essences somehow—’ She broke off, embarrassed. ‘Sorry—we should get going, shouldn’t we?’

Alix’s chest felt tight. ‘Yes, we should. The plane is waiting.’

‘I’ll just get my handbag.’

Leila moved to go inside, but then stopped beside Alix and looked up at him. Her voice was husky. ‘Thank you...this has been truly magical.’

He reached out and cupped her jaw, running his thumb across the fullness of her lower lip. ‘Yes, it has,’ he agreed.

And right then he knew that he wasn’t ready to let Leila go, and that whatever it took to keep that from happening, he would do it.

* * *

‘Stay with me tonight?’

Leila looked at Alix across the back seat of his chauffeur-driven car. It was very late—after midnight—and the rain-wet streets of Paris were like an alien landscape to Leila. She realised she hadn’t even missed it. And she also realised that, in spite of her best intentions, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Alix.

She nodded jerkily and said, ‘Okay.’

The Place Vendôme was empty when they arrived, and they were escorted into the hotel with discreet efficiency. It gave Leila a bit of a jolt to see how the staff fawned over Alix, and how he instantly seemed to morph into someone more aloof, austere. She’d forgotten for a moment who he was.

When they entered his suite, low lamps were burning. Alix took off his jacket and Leila walked over to the window, feeling restless all of a sudden. She could see her shop, dark and empty, and a faint prickle of foreboding caused her to shiver minutely.

Then she saw Alix in the reflection of the window. He was looking at her. She turned around. The air shimmered between them. He came towards her and in a bid to break the intensity Leila glanced away, still a little overwhelmed by how much he made her feel.

And then something caught her eye on a nearby table, and when it registered she let out a gasp. ‘Oh, no!’

Alix had spotted what Leila had spotted just a second afterwards and he cursed silently and vowed to have whoever had left the papers here sacked.

It was a popular French tabloid magazine and there was a picture on the front. A picture of Alix and Leila on a beach. They’d gone there the day before. They were sprawled in the sand, their swimwear leaving little to the imagination, but they were not naked, thankfully. Her face was turned away, up to his, so she wasn’t identifiable—but he was.

Leila had already picked it up, but Alix whipped it out of her hands and threw it away. He said urgently, ‘They didn’t get your face...it’s okay.’

She was pale, shocked. She looked up at him. ‘You knew about this?’

Alix’s conscience stung so much it hurt. Funny, he’d never considered himself to have much of a conscience. Before.

‘My assistant sends me updates on any news coverage.’

Leila looked wounded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Alix gritted his jaw. ‘Because I was hoping you wouldn’t see it.’

Leila waved an arm. ‘Well, the whole of France has seen it now.’ She looked down to where the magazine was on the floor and read out, ‘“Who is the exiled King’s latest mystery flame?”’

Alix caught her chin and moved it towards him. He felt her resistance. When she was looking at him he said, ‘They don’t know who you are and I’ll make sure they won’t. Please—trust me.’

Something moved across her face—some expression that Alix didn’t like. Eventually she said, ‘This has to end after tonight, Alix. I’m not made for your world and I don’t want to be dragged through the papers as just another one of your women.’

Alix rejected everything she said, and a sense of desperation rose up inside him—that need to make her his. But he couldn’t articulate it. So instead he used his mouth, moving it over hers, willing her to respond—and she did, because she was as helpless against this as he was.

* * *

The following morning when Leila woke up it took her a long time to orientate herself. She was in a massive bed, with the most luxurious coverings she’d ever felt. She was naked and alone. And her body ached. Between her legs she was tender.