The Royal House Of Karedes: Two Kingdoms

CHAPTER SIX

MARIA awoke in total confusion.

Her heart thumped with terror. Where was she?

Everything about this room was wrong. The bed. The faint light stealing in through the window. Even the feel of the silk bed linen under her cheek, the whisper-weight of the blanket…

The pillow beside hers. Indented, as if someone’s head had rested on it. A faint scent. Clean. Crisp. Male.

“Ohmygod,” she whispered, and shot up against the pillows. A bad move. Her stomach did a slow roll. She bolted from the bed, looked around wildly, saw the bathroom and barely got there in time.

She retched until the muscles of her diaphragm ached. Shaken and shaking, she closed her eyes and sank down on the cold tile floor.

Easy, she told herself, just take it easy.

Seconds later, she stood, washed her face, unscrewed the top from a small bottle of mouthwash and rinsed her mouth until the bottle was empty.

Boneless, on legs that seemed to be made of over-cooked pasta, she sank down on the closed commode.

She remembered it all. Alex’s arrival. The royal commission. The awful visit to Luz, the humiliation of being sick afterward…

Most of all, the unbelievable proposition Alex had made—and she had accepted.

Was this a hotel room? As if in answer, the floor seemed to give a gentle dip. Not a hotel room. This was his plane. They were somewhere over the ocean and she couldn’t even remember getting on board. Her memory took her as far as being sick in the snow. Alex cradling her in his arms. The warming swallows of brandy.

Maria groaned and buried her face in her hands.

Had she slept with him? No. Heat flooded her body. Definitely, no. If Alex had made love to her—Correction. If they’d had sex, she’d remember. Besides, except for her jacket and boots, she was still dressed in the ratty outfit she’d worn last night.

Somehow, the thought that she’d slept between silk sheets and beneath what was probably a cashmere blanket dressed like this made her want to laugh.

God, she was coming apart! Aches where she’d never had aches. Laughter that could just as easily turn to tears. Nausea when she least expected it. Joaquin was right. She’d been working too hard. Stress could do terrible things.

She rose to her feet. There was a stall shower. A big terrycloth robe hanging from a hook. Shampoo and soap and—

And Alex, just outside the bedroom door.

How was she going to face him? What was she going to say? Could she ask him if he’d slept with her? Well, not with her. In the same bed. Not that it mattered. He had the right. Hadn’t she agreed to share his bed, and not just for sleep?

It was a miracle he hadn’t held her to that unspoken agreement already, but then a woman who tossed her cookies at a man’s feet wasn’t exactly a turn-on. Not that she wanted to turn him on. Not that she wanted him to undress her, touch her, carry her to his bed and do more, much more than sleep next to her…

Someone knocked at the door. The knob rattled. Maria swung around and stared as if it were a live thing about to launch an attack.

“Ms. Santos?” A woman’s voice. “Ms. Santos?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes?”

The door opened. A pleasant-faced woman of about fifty smiled at her.

“Good morning, Ms. Santos. I’m Thalia. The stewardess. The prince asked me to tell you we’ll be landing in a couple of hours. He asks that you join him for breakfast.”

Maria felt her face heat. “Thank you.”

“I’ve left your bag at the foot of the bed.”

Could her cheeks get any hotter? “Fine. Thank you again.”

Thalia smiled, stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her. Maria flew to it and turned the lock.

How could she face anyone? She’d all but died of humiliation just now and there were other people to deal with. The pilot. A co-pilot. Half the kingdom of Aristo, for all she knew. So what? the logical part of her said. Common sense assured her that Prince Alexandros had a long tradition of having women travel with him and share his bed.

The knowledge would come as no shock to anyone.

Yes, but it came as a shock to her. She had never been a mistress before.

The fact was, she had never been with a man before that night two months ago. Not that His Royal Arrogance would believe it if she told him. Not that she would tell him. Her humiliation was already devastating enough. Why make it worse? Far better to let him think that she was as experienced as he obviously believed.

Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner?

Maria stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower.

Alex had called her a liar. She wasn’t, but she could carry things off when she had to. Hadn’t she prepped for the interview at FIT without letting her mother know? And then there’d been the interview itself, when she’d sat in a waiting room like an ugly duckling lost in a bevy of swans. And years later, after she’d won the Caligari prize and approached a buyer at a posh Fifth Avenue store with a small box filled with earrings of her own design…

Oh yes, she thought as she tilted her face up to the spray, yes, she could do this. Pretend that being his sex toy for a month meant nothing. Not a problem.

Not at all.

Where in blazes was Maria?

Alex had awakened hours ago. Awakened? His mouth twisted. He had not really slept. How could a man sleep with a woman curled against him, her breath warm and light against his throat, her hand on his chest? Maria had curved her body into his as if she’d belonged there. He’d told himself it didn’t affect him and it hadn’t…

For about thirty seconds.

Then, he’d gone into a full state of arousal.

He’d imagined rolling her onto her back. Undressing her. Caressing her. Imagined her waking slowly as she felt his hands and mouth moving gently on her flesh.

“Alexandros?” she’d have whispered, as she had that night they’d spent together, as she had just a little while ago, when he’d put her to bed, and he’d have said, Yes, it’s Alexandros. Say my name again, Maria. Touch me with your cool hands. Open your mouth so I can taste your sweetness …

That was when he’d shot from the bed.

A cold shower. A change of clothes. Then he’d left the room without a backward glance because he hadn’t trusted himself. He’d waited weeks for this. He wasn’t going to take her now, when she was exhausted and sick and only half aware of him.

He wanted her wide awake when he possessed her, wanted her eyes on his as he took what she had only pretended to give him that first time.

His flight crew, of course, had asked no questions, nor had Thalia when he’d told her to inform his guest that they’d be landing soon.

“Is Ms. Santos awake?” he’d asked brusquely, when Thalia brought him coffee.

“Yessir. I gave her your message.”

Alex looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes had gone by. What was taking her so long? Did she think she could stay locked in the bedroom? That she could put off what would happen next?

The hell she could.

They’d land soon, his car would be waiting. He would drive to his apartment in Ellos and take her to his bed.

He looked at his watch again. He was weary of playing her games. He put down his coffee cup. Blotted his lips with a linen napkin. There was still time to assert his possession now…

The door at the rear of the cabin opened. Maria stood framed within it; her eyes met his. He saw her take a breath and then she started toward him. The ugly sweats and boots had been replaced by a pale gray long-sleeved sweater that fell to her hips, black tights and pale gray ankle boots. Her hair, still damp, tumbled around her shoulders.

His gut tightened. By God, she was beautiful. And composed.

He had not expected that. The fact was, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Tears, maybe. Pleas that he send her home. He’d judged wrong. The look on her face was a study in self-assurance.

“Good morning,” he said, and rose to his feet. He gestured to the chair opposite his. She took it, plucked the napkin from under the heavy silverware and spread it in her lap. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry about last night—”

“That you slept curled in my arms?”

“That I got sick,” she said quickly, but the tiniest bit of color crept into her face.

So. Perhaps she wasn’t as self-confident as she appeared.

“I’m just happy a night’s sleep helped. I tried not to disturb you when I left the bed,” he said, pouring coffee for her. He glanced at her, to see what effect his deliberate use of the word ‘bed’ had made. None. None at all. Her expression was impersonal again. “You were curled so tightly in my arms that I had to disentangle us.”

There it was again. That little rush of color. She shot him a look, then buried it in a sip of coffee. She swallowed, looked up. The tip of her tongue peeped out; she swiped it over her lips. To his annoyance, he felt his body stir.

“I was sure I’d wake you when I took my arm out from around your shoulders.”

She looked straight at him. “I thought your stewardess said we’d be landing soon.”

“A change of subject, agapimeni?” His tone was pure silk. “Did you want to discuss something other than the fact that you slept with me last night?”

“We shared the same bed,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m sure you know the difference between that and what people mean when they say they slept together.” Her lips compressed. “Besides, I didn’t know I rated a change of subject. I thought mistresses were expected to comply with the wishes of their masters. That is what I will be, isn’t it? Your mistress? I mean, isn’t that what one calls a woman who warms a man’s bed?”

Damn it! He was the one who could feel his face filling with heat. What a hell of a little speech, and had she deliberately waited until Thalia was in earshot? His stewardess had been with him for years; if asked, he’d have said nothing could rattle her but hadn’t her eyebrows just taken a surprised lift?

Alex tossed his napkin on the table and got to his feet. Two could play at this game of control—but only one would be the winner.

“We’ll be on the ground soon,” he said coldly. “And then there’ll be plenty of time for me to make my wishes clear—and for you to make absolutely certain you comply with them.”

The last time Maria had come to Aristo, the only time, had been in early December, the start of the Mediterranean winter.

The plane had taxied to a jet way; she’d disembarked along with scores of other travel-weary coach passengers and sleepwalked through the terminal to a luggage carousel where she’d waited for her suitcase to thump its way toward her. Then she’d headed outside and waited in line for a taxi.

Arriving in the kingdom with a prince of the Royal House of Karedes was very different.

Alex’s jet landed and taxied to an area far from the busy terminal. Two men wheeled a staircase to the door. The captain and co-pilot left the cockpit and saluted as she and Alex moved past them; Thalia dropped a little curtsy to Alex and smiled at her.

“Enjoy your stay, miss.”

Alex slid his arm around her waist. “I’ll see to it Ms. Santos enjoys every minute.”

Was she the only one who heard the ironic undertone in his words? She couldn’t tell; Thalia’s face showed nothing but Maria felt a tinge of heat wash into hers.

No, she told herself fiercely, no! She would not let him take control again. Determinedly, she shrugged free of his encircling arm and went down the stairs.

In December, the Aristan skies had been a brilliant blue and the day unseasonably warm. Now, in early February, the air held a distinct chill. Just as chilling was the sight of the uniformed chauffeur standing at attention beside a black limousine even more imposing than the one that had ferried them around New York.

A shudder went through her, and Alex immediately took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“I don’t need that,” she said, trying to shrug it away, but he clasped the collar, brought the edges together and, in doing so, drew her closer.

“But you do, agapimeni,” he said, smiling though the smile never reached his eyes. “Besides, didn’t you just tell me the first rule a mistress must follow is compliance?”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Maria said coolly. “I’m not your mistress yet.”

His eyes grew darker than midnight.

“You will be, glyka mou,” he said huskily. “And very soon.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and hooked it behind her ear. His gaze fell to her lips. Was he going to kiss her, despite the people watching from the top of the stairs and the chauffeur waiting beside the car?

If he did—if he did, she would stand straight and still within his arms and give him nothing in return.

“Did you hear what I said, Maria? An hour from now, you’ll be in my bed.”

Her pulse rocketed. It took all her strength to respond with what she hoped was a cool smile.

“Thank you for the warning, Your Highness. It’s always helpful to be prepared for something unpleasant.”

To her amazement, Alex laughed.

“Very nicely done.” His hands swept into her hair and he tilted her face to his. “But a sad little lie.” His smile faded. “Tell me how unpleasant it is after I have you undressed,” he whispered. “Say it when my mouth is at your breast, when it is between your thighs. Tell me then, glyka mou, and I might just believe you.”

She felt her nipples peak, felt the swift rush of desire spear low in her belly. He seemed to know what effect his words had because he bent his head and gave her a quick, possessive kiss.

“Get in the car, agapi mou,” he said, and the look of satisfaction on his hard, beautiful face made her wonder who she hated the most, Alex or herself.

The car moved swiftly through the streets of Ellos.

Alex was on his cell phone, talking softly as buildings flashed by. She recognized the small hotel she’d stayed at, the busy street where she’d first met him. The romantic restaurant he’d taken her to, the little park where he’d kissed her.

He’d told the truth, she thought, and drew a shaky breath. He’d have her in his bed very soon. His apartment was only a couple of blocks away.

But the car didn’t take the turn that would have brought them there.

Where was he taking her, then?

She threw him a glance. He’d put the phone away; he sat with his arms folded over his chest, looking distant and formidable, and she decided she’d sooner die than ask. Besides, what did it matter? Maybe he had rules for this kind of thing. Or maybe he didn’t want her in his apartment. Maybe there was another woman there already. Or maybe he preferred to keep his women in a hotel.

The limo swooped up a ramp and onto a highway. A sign in both Greek and English flashed by.

To the North Coast Beaches and the Bay of Apollonia.

Beaches? Bays? She was a city girl. Streets, noise, traffic were her natural habitat. Beaches and bays sounded foreign. Isolated.

“Aren’t we going to your apartment?”

She spoke without thinking, regretted it almost immediately, but Alex had a ready reply.

“We were, but I changed my mind. I’m taking you to a place where your compliance will be assured.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She thought of telling him he wasn’t funny but that would be a sign of surrender, and the last thing this man would have from her was surrender.

Her refusal to bend to his will was all she had left, and she was intent on keeping it.

The drive took what seemed a very long time.

They had reached the bay; the sign at the exit said so but the proof was in the spectacular view from a road that now hugged high, curving cliffs above sand so white it looked as if it were made of crushed pearls. Beyond that stretched a sea of deep, brilliant blue, so beautiful it took her breath away.

All right. She had to break her self-imposed silence.

“Is that the Bay of Apollonia?”

Alex nodded. “Named for the god, Apollo. Legend says that Virgil wrote a poem about this place some two thousand years ago.”

“Virgil? But he was Roman.”

“Aristo and its sister island, Calista, were first part of the Greek Empire and then were ruled by Rome. You’re familiar with Virgil?”

Maria stiffened. “I might not have had your tutors and private schools, Alexandros, but the New York City schools provided me with an excellent education.”

“I didn’t mean to imply …”

“Yes. You did. You don’t know a thing about me but you have no trouble jumping to all kinds of conclusions.”

“I might say the same of you, glyka mou.”

Maria looked at him. “You mean,” she said sweetly, “you didn’t have tutors? You didn’t go to private schools?”

“Well, no. I mean, I did—but I have to admit, I tuned out most of what I learned in Latin III, which was pretty much when we dealt with Virgil. I guess I’m just surprised you didn’t do the same.”

He grinned, and it instantly transformed him from cold despot to the gorgeous, easygoing man she’d met that night two months ago. She didn’t want that. Didn’t want to remember that night, how he’d made her feel when he’d made love to her.

“Anyway, yes, Virgil wrote about the Bay of Apollonia. He called it an ambrosial sea of sapphire.”

How could she not reply to that? Maria sighed and gazed out at the bay again.

“He was right,” she said softly, “though I’ve never seen a sapphire that magnificent. But if I did—”

“If you did?”

“I’d use it as the center stone in a ring. I’d make the setting of twenty-four-karat gold to suggest the brilliance of the sun, and mount the sapphire between a pair of small, perfect diamonds to represent the sister islands of Aristo and Calista.”