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

‘Look at me.’

‘No!’ Her words were muffled by her hands, and as she felt him draw them away she stared at him defiantly. ‘I didn’t scheme, if that’s what you think, but, yes, I did think you might have someone here—or that you might in the future. And what’s more…what is more…who could really blame you if you did?’

He stilled. ‘What did you just say? That sounded very like you giving me permission to stray, cara.’ His voice took on a deadly tone. ‘Is that what you would like? To free me so that another man can be your lover? Do you have someone in mind, then, Lucy?’

How wrong could he possibly be? ‘No!’ She stared at him as if he were completely mad. ‘I haven’t wanted anyone else! Not since I met you—not for a second.’

‘Then perhaps you would explain what it is you’re talking about?’

She shrugged her shoulders desperately. ‘I know that you’re a hot-blooded man—and I had no right to withhold sex from you.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake—there you go again!’ he exploded. ‘I don’t want it to be like that. It isn’t something that I want and you won’t give me—it should be something we both want. And you don’t, do you, Lucy?’

There was a long, long silence. Was she strong enough to do something to rectify a situation which was becoming daily more unbearable? Or was stupid, stubborn pride going to stand in her way?

‘Yes, I do,’ she whispered. ‘I want you very much.’

Her words were soft and indistinct, but he heard them, and he smoothed back the mussed hair from her cheeks to see confusion in her eyes.

‘Oh, Lucy,’ he said softly.

‘I don’t know how it’s come to this,’ she admitted on a whisper.

And neither did he. He rippled his fingers down her neck and her eyelids fluttered to a close. ‘You are worn out,’ he said unsteadily.

‘Yes.’

‘Come. Come with me.’

Her eyes flew open as he bent to scoop her up into his arms—as if he carried pregnant women every day of the week. ‘Are you taking me to…bed?’

His eyes were smoky with hunger and his blood was on fire with need. Expectation was racing over his skin and making it burn. ‘Oh, I think I have to—don’t you?’

She was trembling and excited and scared all at the same time as he carried her through to the vast and airy room, where he lay her down on the bed. His eyes narrowed as he took in her chalk-white complexion, the freckles standing out in bold relief on her skin, as if they had been painted on. Unexpectedly he began stroking her cheek, using rhythmical, soothing fingers, as if he were petting a pampered cat, and gradually the tension began to leave her. The hectic glitter left her eyes and she felt herself sinking into the comfort zone which her keyed-up body craved, her weighted eyelids sinking irrevocably downwards.

To her astonishment, she must have slept, for when she opened her eyes again the room was empty.

Had she dreamt it all? Blinking, she sat up and looked at the empty space on the bed beside her. It was smooth and unrumpled. There was a glass of water on the bedside table and she gulped it down thirstily. When she glanced up again it was to see his dark, silent form in the doorway, watching her from between narrowed eyes.

Carefully, she put the empty glass back down. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘Two hours.’

‘Two hours?’ She stared at him. So he had changed his mind—when the opportunity had presented itself he had not wanted to make love to her after all.

He saw the

look on her face and began to unbutton his shirt.

Her hand flew to suddenly trembling lips. ‘Guido?’

‘Mmm?’ His voice was husky and deep with desire. ‘You want this, Lucy,’ he murmured. ‘In fact, I’d say that you need it. We both do.’

There was no affection in those words, but right then she didn’t care. Her mouth bone-dry, she watched as the shirt fluttered to the floor and he began to tug at his belt. He rasped the zip down and stepped out of his trousers, kicking his shoes off until he was standing proudly and unselfconsciously naked before her.

Lucy began to tremble even more—and she was not a trembling kind of person. She had seen him aroused many times, but never like this. He was walking towards her now, his face full of purpose and desire, and some soft inner core of her wanted to cry out, to ask where the tenderness of earlier had disappeared to. But he was right. Her need was as deep as his. And no words came other than the breathy sound of his name on her lips.

‘Guido.’