The Prince's Love-Child (The Royal House of Cacciatore 2)

She heard the rawness in his voice. Had his bereaved and fractured childhood caused scars which could never be healed? But to ask him would be intrusive, even if he were the kind of man who invited such questions. And Lucy did not want to pry, or to add to his pain. There were other ways of telling someone that you understood.

‘I know what you mean,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘It’s like if you live by the sea—you get so used to seeing it that you take it for granted.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘And I guess that nothing can prepare you for growing up in the kind of place that most mortals pay ticket money to see!’

There was a pause, and then, unexpectedly, he began to laugh. His social status was so lofty that rarely did people tease him about it—though when he stopped to think about it rarely did he let anyone tease him.

His laughter broke some of the tension and replaced it with a new, much more acceptable kind. He stared at her. In the linen trousers and clinging T-shirt she looked like a sleeker and more expensive version of the usual Lucy. As if he had upgraded from a run-of-the-mill car to something top-of-the-range.

Had he tried to alter her? So that the woman he admired and lusted after would now slip away, like sand between his fingers?

Suddenly he wanted to see her naked, stripped of all the finery that he had insisted on dressing her in.

‘Let’s go to our suite, cara,’ he said unsteadily.

She knew exactly what he wanted to do from the look in his eyes, but she was hardly going to challenge him in the public arena of the Palace courtyard. Or rather she sensed that it was public—there was no one to be seen, but she could not shake off the idea that there were eyes watching them.

Maybe they have closed-circuit TV installed, she thought, with a slight touch of hysteria.

She barely had a chance to take in the sumptuous ice-blue and golden surroundings of their suite, for Guido pulled her into his arms, pressing his hard, lean body against hers. She felt the unmistakable evidence of his desire for her, and the melting response of her answering need.

‘Guido,’ she breathed against his ear as he began to tug at the waistband of her trousers and slide his hand inside them. ‘We mustn’t.’

‘Mustn’t what?’ he questioned, his eyes gleaming like some dark, indefinable metal as he watched her pupils dilate, felt her syrupy moistness as he began to move his finger.

She closed her eyes, her knees growing weak. ‘Your brother…’ she gasped. ‘He’ll be waiting.’

The trousers pooled in a whisper by her ankles and he gave an unseen smile of triumph.

‘And so, cara,’ he said harshly, ‘am I. And I can wait no longer!’

It all happened very quickly. He divested her of her costly garments, flinging them carelessly onto the floor as if they were of no consequence, and Lucy suddenly felt like a mannequin he could clothe and then unclothe whenever the fancy took him. As if she were his possession. And she was not!

Damn you, she thought. Damn you, Prince Guido Nero Maximus Cacciatore, with your cavalier attitude and your determination to get just what it is you want!

But didn’t she want it, too? Oh, so badly…

She tugged viciously at his silk shirt, so that several buttons popped off, skittering and bouncing on the marble floor, and she heard him give a low laugh of delight as she scraped her fingernails against the dark hair which arrowed down over his torso.

‘Lucy,’ he moaned.

His sound of helpless pleasure fuelled her on, and somehow they made it to the bed, frantically pulling at their remaining clothes.

Lucy’s breathing was frantic as she began to straddle him. ‘Have you…have you locked the door?’ she demanded, her voice shaking.

‘Si!’

Sweet saints in heaven! His one word of assent was enough to have her lowering herself down on him, playing with him, easing the tip of him against her and then seeming to hesitate, as though she was about to change her mind.

‘Lucy—’ he begged, gasping with the exquisite pleasure of it as she sank down onto him, taking in every bit of him, and he was so full, so tight, that he felt he might burst.

He buried his face in her breasts as she began to move, tauntin

g and tormenting him as she changed the rhythm until he could bear it no longer. He caught her by the hips, increasing the speed, watching with pleasure as her eyes became slitted and her head fell back and she hissed out the word yes over and over and over again, until all his seed had pumped deep within her.

He shook his head slightly with disbelief and sank back against the rumpled pillows, pulling her sweat-sheened body against him. He wanted to sleep, but she was shaking him, her face all flushed and her silken hair falling about her pale freckled shoulders.

‘Guido—wake up!’

He shook his head and wriggled his hips comfortably.