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“For the record, it wasn’t an affair. Except perhaps in Blake’s mind. Blake Winters,” she clarified. “That was his name. I met him almost two years ago at a fund-raising event. He’s charming and good-looking, and I admit I was attracted to him. He started calling, sending flowers and gifts. We went out a few times, and he was nice enough, but I didn’t think we hit it off quite as well as he apparently did. And I didn’t know he was married and had a family,” she stressed, finally finding the courage to meet Nicolas’s gaze.
“Even after I decided not to see him anymore, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept calling, kept sending presents. He attended my functions and did his best to get me alone. Just about the time his attention started to border on frightening, he stopped trying to contact me.”
She shifted uncomfortably, readjusting the sheet around her torso as she went back to looking anywhere but into Nicolas’s eyes. “I thought that was the end of it, and then suddenly photographs of the two of us showed up in the press. They were probably taken at the charity events, but they were just suggestive enough to get tongues wagging—especially when a so-called ‘source’ leaked the information that we had been intimately involved. I think it was Blake himself. I think he wanted people to believe we were having an affair, maybe even thought, in some sick way, that it would make me go back to him.”
She shook her head and took a deep breath, shrugging off the bad memories and any lingering remnants of the shame she’d felt when the story—however incorrect—had broken.
The hair on her nape rose when Nicolas reached out to run the back of his hand over her bare arm. His knuckles rasped along her skin, drawing gooseflesh everywhere he touched.
“Poor Alandra, working so hard to take care of everyone else, but having no one stand up for you when you most needed it.”
His words, as well as his tone, surprised her, and for a moment she let herself believe them. A second later, though, self-pity transformed into her usual streak of independence, and she gave an unladylike snort.
“I had plenty of people to defend me,” she told him. “Unfortunately, my family is no match for all of Texas high society. In situations like that, the only thing you can do is lie low and try not to do anything even more newsworthy until it all blows over.”
His hand moved from her arm to her back. The light stroking lulled her and made her want to curl up beside him once again.
“Is that what you’re doing here, in Glendovia?” Nicolas asked softly. “Lying low?”
She snuggled down again, draping herself cozily along his hard length. Resting her head on the curve of his shoulder, she asked, “Is this low enough for you?”
He gave a chuckle, then shifted slightly and pulled her tighter against him, readjusting the cool sheets so that they were both covered from the waist down.
Silence surrounded them, heavy but comfortable. It gave her the chance to listen to Nicolas’s breathing and the sound of his heart pumping rhythmically beneath her ear.
“That explains the scandal that surrounds you back in the States,” he said at last, his fingers drawing random circles on her upper body. “It doesn’t, however, tell me how you managed to remain untouched for so long.”
Her mouth twisted wryly, even though she knew he couldn’t see her expression. “I’m a good girl. What do you think?”
“I think you’re a very good girl,” he murmured, his words edged with innuendo. “But no one who looks at you would ever believe you were a virgin.”
She cocked her head back to glower at him. “Why? Because I forgot to wear my sweater with the big red V on the front?”
“No,” he responded calmly. “Because you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and sexuality trickles from your every pore. No heterosexual man could be in the same room with you without wanting you, and I find it hard to believe that one hadn’t convinced you to sleep with him before now.”
Sighing, she relaxed and settled back against Nicolas. “I don’t know how to explain it, except to say that no man has truly enticed me enough. I’ve dated a lot of men, yes. Wealthy, attractive men. And there were a few times I came close, a few I thought I might be falling in love with. But something always stopped me.”
“Until now.”
Beneath her ear, his heart seemed to jump against his rib cage and double its beat. Her eyelids, already half-closed, drifted all the way shut, his pulse acting like a lullaby.
“Until now,” she agreed, her voice growing faint as sleep began to tug at her. “I guess you could say that your invitation came at a very beneficial time. For a number of reasons.”
“One of those reasons being that it gave me a chance to finally get you exactly where I wanted you.” With one sinewy arm around her waist, he dragged her up so he could see her face, jarring her into full wakefulness.
Alandra wanted to argue the point or chastise herself for falling so effortlessly into his trap. But right now, in the darkest part of the night, with him lying warm and solid beneath her, she couldn’t find it in her to be angry.
Later, maybe, but not now.
Ten
Rays of warm sunlight slanted through the French doors, crossing the carpeted floor and part of the bed, and pulling Alandra slowly awake.
She stretched and yawned and reached out an arm, expecting to find Nicolas asleep beside her. When her hand met nothing but cool, bare sheets, she opened her eyes and blinked until her vision focused.
She was naked and alone in a tangle of pale, wrinkled bedclothes.
Sitting up, she glanced around the room, but didn’t find him there.
A sliver of disappointment snaked through her belly. Maybe it had been too much to hope that she’d be able to wake up in his arms. It wouldn’t do, after all, for him to be caught sleeping with the hired help.
With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and reached for her robe. Knotting the belt at her waist, she glanced at the clock, her heart pitching when she saw that it was well past 10:00 a.m.
Good Lord, how could she have slept so late?
Not looking forward to the greeting she would receive when she finally made her way downstairs, Alandra showered and brushed her teeth, then started to dress. She wore a simple white sheath with a silver-bangle belt, and white platform sandals. Nothing too provocative, but nothing too dowdy, either.
She wanted to appear cool and confident when she next ran into Nicolas.
Sleeping with Nicolas—a prince, her employer and the man who had propositioned her at their first meeting—wasn’t the smartest move she’d ever made. She should have been stronger, more resilient.
Because there was no way she was about to become his mistress for the rest of her time in Glendovia.
Resolve firmly in place, she strolled along the palace corridors and down the wide, curved, marble staircase. There was no one around, not even a servant, making her feel even more awkward about sleeping in so late.
She made her way to the dining room, where she’d spent the majority of her time with the royal family thus far, but the room was empty, long ago cleared of any traces of breakfast. From there, she drifted back across the foyer and down the opposite hallway toward Nicolas’s office. She wasn’t in a particular hurry to run into him, but he was her primary employer and she was already late getting to work.
The door was closed and she rapped softly, half hoping he wouldn’t be there. But he called for her to enter after the first knock.
She schooled her breathing and stepped inside, closing the door at her back. He was seated behind his desk, working, but raised his head to greet her.
Scorching familiarity flashed in his eyes. The look made her heart hitch in her chest.
“Good morning,” he murmured, setting down his pen and rising to his feet. “I trust you slept well.”
His tone was formal, more formal than she would have expected from the man who’d shared her bed only hours before, with no hint of teasing or double entendre. Yet his gaze consumed her, sliding over her like warm honey, and making her want to do nothing more than relax into it, surrendering her body and her will to him once again.
“Very well, thank you.” If he could be this decorous, then so could she. “I’m sorry to be running late this morning. Just because the children’s Christmas event was a success doesn’t mean I should be allowed to dawdle on the other causes you brought me here to deal with.”
She purposely avoided any mention of how they’d spent their time after the Santa gift giveaway, sticking to a professional mode. It was better that way and would help her remain on an even keel.
One side of his mouth lifted, as though he knew exactly what she was trying to do. “I don’t think sleeping in a few hours can be considered shirking your duties. However, if you have ideas for other fund-raising events, I’d love to hear them.”
He waved a hand at one of the chairs in front of his desk, motioning for her to sit down. As soon as she did, he returned to his seat.
“Actually, I do have another idea,” she said, feeling some of the tension seep from her body. Talking business was much better than discussing last night. “Not for a fund-raiser per se, but for the development of an organization.”
“Really?” His brows rose and he leaned back in his chair, propping his fingertips together as he listened intently.
“Yes. Back in the States, we have a nationwide organization that works to fulfill the wishes of terminally ill children. I’ve noticed that you don’t have anything like that set up here in Glendovia, and I think it would be a wonderful project for the royal family to undertake. It would bring you some outstanding press, and also fill a very real need for kids who are sick in the hospital or even at home, with no hope of recovery. I thought we could call it Dream a Little Dream.”
After considering her proposal for several long seconds, he asked, “And what kind of dreams would we be fulfilling for these children?”
“Whatever they wanted. Their dearest wish, if it’s at all feasible. At home, the organization arranges for children to meet their favorite celebrities, spend an entire day at an amusement park that’s been rented out just for them and their friends, go for a hot-air-balloon ride or learn to fly a plane. Things that the kids have always wanted to do, but otherwise wouldn’t get the chance to because of their condition.”
Nicolas returned her grin. “I suppose that could be arranged.”
“So it’s something you’d consider?” She leaned forward eagerly. “There would be much more involved than simply planning a fund-raising event. We’re talking about renting office space, hiring employees, enormous national and possibly international publicity, probably even a press conference or two. And the organization would need continued support long after I return to America.”
She thought she saw a flicker of unease cross his face at the mention of her leaving, but it was gone in an instant.
“It’s a noble endeavor,” he said, shifting so that his elbows once again rested on the desktop. “A good cause, and something that would bolster Glendovia’s reputation and its citizens’ esteem. I’ll have to discuss it with the rest of the family, of course, but I would certainly be in favor of getting the ball rolling.”
“Excellent.” She grinned broadly, pleased that he was in favor of a project she’d begun to feel very passionate about.
“You have only a little over a week left of your stay,” he pointed out.
His mouth was a flat line and his words were curt, as though he found that fact distasteful. The ripple of unease low in her belly told her that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, either.
When she’d first arrived and discovered exactly who Prince Nicolas Braedon was, she’d threatened to turn around and fly back to Texas, even if it meant breaking her employment contract with the royal family. But now that she’d been here for a while and had really begun to dig into the work, she was enjoying her visit. Enjoying the palace and the country and its people.
She missed her family and was eager to return to Texas to be with them again, but she was no longer looking forward to leaving, as she had been only a couple of weeks before.
“Do you think that’s enough time to establish this organization and get it to the point where it can be turned over to others and still run smoothly?” Nicolas asked.
“I do.”
“Even with Christmas coming up?”
“I’ll work through the holiday. I was planning to do that, anyway.”
Without her family to share in the festivities, and with a multitude of servants who had already decorated the palace from top to bottom, she suspected Christmas this year would end up passing much like any other day.
She’d been prepared all along to spend that time alone in her room rather than intruding upon the royal family’s celebrations. At least this way she would have a nice, meaty project to work on and keep herself occupied.
She thought she heard him mutter, “We’ll see about that” beneath his breath. But then he pushed himself away from his desk and stood, and in a firmer voice said, “All right. I’ll bring it up with the family and see how they feel about it, then get back to you with a decision.”
Nodding, she rose to her feet as he crossed the office to hold the door for her. She took a couple of steps in his direction, then stopped.
“Is there anything else?” he asked, noticing her hesitation.
She curled her fingers into fists at her sides, then released them, fidgeting anxiously while she tried to decide whether or not to voice the concerns circling through her brain.
“Alandra,” he murmured softly, and started in her direction.
Straightening her shoulders, she met his eyes, stopping him in his tracks. “About last night…” she began, steeling her nerves for a conversation that filled her with dread.
“Yes?” he asked without inflection of any kind.
Obviously, he was in no mood to make this easier on her.
“It can’t happen again,” she told him quickly and succinctly, as if pulling off a bandage before the pain or aftereffects sank in.
“Oh?” Again his voice lacked inflection, but this time he raised an eyebrow, the only hint that he had any interest in what she was saying.
“No. I realize it’s exactly what you wanted, your whole reason for inviting me here to begin with, but it was a mistake and it’s not going to happen again.”
For a long minute, Nicolas studied Alandra, taking in her rigid stance and stern countenance. He wondered how annoyed she would be if he told her how attractive she looked when she tried to be authoritative.
Deciding not to risk her wrath over that, when he was about to commit a much worse offense to her sensibilities, he pushed the door shut with a quiet click and slowly closed the short distance between them.
“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable to me,” he replied, raising a hand to touch her hair, which hung straight and silky around her shoulders.
He watched her head tip just a bit away from his hand, as though trying to move away from his touch. And then the tendons of her throat tightened and released as she swallowed, her gaze not quite meeting his.
“It doesn’t matter whether you agree or not,” she said. “I’m simply telling you the way things are going to be. What happened last night isn’t going to happen again.”
She sounded resolute. So much so that he couldn’t help smiling.
Not that he could hold her response against her. She hadn’t known him long enough to realize that he was a man who got what he wanted. He had no intention of giving up so easily or letting her go purely because she claimed their lovemaking last night was a mistake.
He disagreed. Strongly.
Still grinning, he let his hand graze her soft cheek and tuck a strand of hair behind one ear. “I beg to differ. Last night was magnificent.”
Her gaze flitted away and a pale pink blush started to creep across her face.
“You have less than two weeks left in Glendovia, and I fully intend to enjoy them. To enjoy you. I know that you’ll need to spend your days working, especially if you undertake this new project you’ve proposed. But your evenings will be free, and I want you to spend them with me, in my bed.”
“Absolutely not.” She shook her head and took a step back, breaking away from his touch.
As much as he wanted to close the distance between them and grab her up, kissing the quarrel from her luscious, red-tinged lips, he remained where he was, allowing her to believe a few inches of space would keep her safe from him.
A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You think that I lured you here, created a position for you within my country, to sleep with you for only one night? Alandra,” he breathed softly, almost teasingly, “even if you didn’t know me well enough by now, you have to realize that no prince would go to such lengths for a single night of sex, no matter how spectacular that sex might be.”
Determination straightened his spine and pushed his shoulders back. “I am a bit more dedicated than that,” he added, slowly stepping forward. He was encouraged to note that her wide eyes remained locked with his, and she barely seemed to register his approach.
“And now that I’ve had you, I have no intention of letting you slip away. I wanted to make love to you, and I’ve done that, but I’m far from sated.”
Even as his voice fell, becoming low and rich and seductive, his finger lifted to gently brush against her body. First the curve of her waist and the underside of her breast, then the tender flesh of her upper arm. He kept the contact brief and featherlight, just the tips of his fingers grazing the material of her dress and her bare skin.
And even though he was scarcely touching her, he still felt the shiver of awareness that rippled through her. It sent a jolt of white-hot sensation through his system, gathering and pooling in his groin. He went hard and heavy in an instant, nearly desperate enough to throw her to the floor and make love to her right then and there.
He wouldn’t, of course, though it wasn’t his royal blood keeping him from doing anything so crass. When it came to being alone in a room with Alandra Sanchez, his royal blood be damned.
No, it was Alandra herself who kept his more base instincts in check. She was already nervous and shy and regretful about what had passed between them last night, and jumping at her now would only cause her to crawl deeper into her shell, to move further away from him.
Instead, he knew he would have to go slowly again, returning to his original plan of smooth, flawless seduction.
Oh, he would have her in his bed again—tonight, if he had anything to say about it. But it would require a bit of persuasion to get her there.
Alandra’s chest rose as she inhaled, and her bright, expressive brown eyes drifted closed for a moment, her head tipping down in defeat.
“Please don’t do this,” she breathed raggedly. “Don’t make me do something that I’ll hate myself for later.”
Her eyes fluttered open and she raised her head to meet his gaze. Her expression was resolute, if somewhat sad.
“I don’t want to be Prince Nicolas’s secret mistress. A temporary entertainment to be enjoyed while I’m here, then sent away when you’re finished with me, never to be thought of again.”
Something about her words twisted his heart painfully, and for a second he reconsidered his single-minded determination to have her, regardless of the consequences.
He didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to bring that look of misery to her face.
He wanted to hold her, kiss her, savor her like a glass of expensive brandy.
Why should it be more complicated than that? They were both mature adults, able to make their own decisions and spend time with whomever they chose.
Leaning in slightly, he let his warm breath fan her cheeks as he hovered a scant inch from her lush, kissable lips.
“I don’t want you to hate yourself,” he murmured quietly. “I just want to be with you. And though I can’t change who I am or the prudence my role in this family requires, I don’t think it needs to have any impact on our time together. What we do when we’re alone, away from the public eye, is no one’s business but ours.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her tight and tipping her head back so he could better reach her mouth. He brushed his lips across hers, tasting her, feeling her, absorbing her energy and spirit into himself.
“I only want to be with you,” he said without breaking contact. “And after last night, I believe you want the same thing. You’ll have to work very hard to convince me that isn’t true.”
She didn’t answer, didn’t pull way. He wasn’t even sure she was still breathing. Pressing his advantage, he kissed her again, deeper this time, until her spine bowed against his body and her nails dug into the material of his jacket.
When he finally raised his head, they were both breathing heavily. A shaft of satisfaction rolled through him at the cloudy, unfocused look in her eyes.
“Very hard,” he whispered.
Eleven
It was beyond difficult to convince Nicolas that she didn’t want him. So impossible, in fact, that she’d given up trying.
How could she claim she wanted nothing to do with him when one touch of his hands or mouth melted her insides like a pot of chocolate fondue?
He’d discussed the idea for the Dream a Little Dream Foundation with his family, even asking Alandra to draw up an official proposal he could take to them. He’d also done a bit of research on his own into its American counterpart, so he could show them what the end product of such an endeavor might be like.
Reaction so far had been positive, and she and Nicolas had been working together on a daily basis to plan things in more detail, crossing all the t’s and dotting all the i’s. Once the king and queen approved, as well as the board of Glendovian officials who oversaw this type of thing, she would be given the freedom to get the ball rolling on establishing the foundation.
Daylight hours were not her problem. She had plenty to do to keep her busy, and managed to make sure she wasn’t alone with Nicolas any more than necessary.
The door of his office stayed open while they were working, and if for some reason it was closed, she found a way to get it open again. If they were alone and things began to feel too tense, too dangerous, she’d make an excuse to get someone else into the room with them.
It was nighttime that caused her the most anxiety. After dinner, when Nicolas would walk her back to her rooms…holding her hand, standing too close, leaning into her at the door.
He kissed her cheek or sometimes her lips. Stroked her hand or shoulder. And always, always his eyes blazed with the clear desire to sweep her up in his arms and cart her off to bed.
She prayed he’d never figure out how very often she wished he would do just that.
Obviously, she wasn’t safe around him, and she didn’t know how she was going to make it another ten days without either giving in or going crazy.
Ten more long, arduous days and she could fly home, fly away to safety.
For some reason, though, that knowledge didn’t comfort her as much as she would have hoped. In fact, it almost saddened her.
But that was an emotion she refused to examine. Her entire existence had been turned upside down, and as soon as she arrived home, life would begin to right itself and return to normal.
She hoped.
For now, though, it was late, and she’d thankfully managed to survive another day, another dinner, another long, excruciating walk back to her suite. She’d changed into a pair of comfortable black satin pajamas and was ready to climb into bed when a soft knock sounded on the sitting room door.