Not Fit for a King?

He gave her a long look. “If I came in, I wouldn’t want coffee.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks and her belly tightened, her body feeling impossibly hot. “We could just talk.”

“You know we wouldn’t.” His gaze dropped, rested on her mouth, as if imagining the feel of it against his own. “If I had you behind closed doors I’d do what I’ve wanted to do since the night you arrived.”

She struggled to breathe. “And what is that?”

“I’m trying hard to remain controlled here.”

“I’m just curious.”

“And you know what curiosity did to the cat.”

She locked her knees, her inner thighs clenched tight. “Yes, but did it feel good?”

A light blazed in his eyes. His jaw thickened. Stark hunger hardened, was etched across his face. “So damn good,” he said thickly, reaching for her, and pulling her to him.

She tipped her head back. “So it was pleasure that killed the cat?”

“You are impossible.” His voice was a rasp of sound. “And completely irresistible. If you’re not very careful, I’ll strip you right here in the hall and kiss every inch of you.”

She shuddered against him, desire making her womb ache. She wanted him. Needed him. “That might be too much of a show for your palace security.”

He drew a rough breath, color warming his cheekbones. “You are testing my resolve.”

He was so hard and warm and his body felt amazing against hers. She pressed herself to him, rubbed like a cat against him. “You feel so good.”

He was gritting his teeth, strain evident on his face. “Can’t do this here. Won’t. It’d feel wrong in my mother’s room.”

“Then let me come to yours.”

He gazed down into her eyes. “You’re serious?”

She nodded. “I want this. I want you.”

“Wait one hour. Cool down. Think it through. Because once we do this, once we make love, there’s no going back.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

HANNAH entered the King’s Bedchamber wearing a black coat over her nightgown and black velvet slippers on her feet. She tried to act nonchalant as she walked through the bedroom door even though butterflies were flitting wildly in her middle, making her heart beat too fast.

She saw Zale immediately, barefoot at the far end of the ornate chamber and her stomach flipped all over again. He’d shed his dark jacket, and had unbuttoned his white shirt at the collar and rolled the crisp sleeves back on his tan forearms.

“Brave girl,” Zale said from the far end of the chamber where he stood before one of two gold marble fireplaces anchoring the room, and it was a magnificent room, the high ceiling covered in rich paneled wood and Flemish tapestries hung on the dark paneled walls.

But nothing was more awe-inspiring than the enormous canopied bed that dominated the room. The bed was huge, bigger than an American king-size—obviously designed for true nobility.

Gold and brilliant blue fabric draped the numerous windows, warming the chamber and shutting out the night while thick blue velvet lined in gold hung from the bed frame, creating an intimate cocoon inside.

“You’re here,” he said, hands on his hips, studying her from beneath lowered lashes.

Not so brave, she thought, feeling as if she’d entered the lion’s lair, with the lights dimmed and the bed prepared for seduction.

Hannah glanced once again at the immense bed, seeing how the brocade coverlet had been turned down, revealing pristine white sheets and pillows. For centuries powerful kings had slept, dreamed and prayed there. And soon she’d be in it, too.

She licked impossibly dry lips. “I am.”

“And you’ve carefully thought this through?” His eyes met hers and held.

The room glowed in the soft candlelight, creating dancing shadows and Hannah plunged her hands into the deep pockets of her coat, self-conscious that Zale was still dressed and she had nothing on underneath her coat but the thin nightgown.

“I have.”

His lips curved and he began to unbutton the rest of the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt one at a time. “Then why stand so far away?”

But her feet wouldn’t move. She was rooted to the spot, mesmerized by his long, lean fingers unfastening the small buttons on his shirt.

Was he really undressing before her?

Was she really going to do this? Then he shrugged out of the shirt, revealing bronzed skin over dense, sinewy muscle, and her mind went blank.

God, he was beautiful.

With perfect aim he tossed the shirt onto the back of a nearby chair. “Second thoughts?”

She shook her head, touched her tongue to her lips again.

“No.”