The Mediterranean Prince's Passion (The Royal House of Cacciatore 1)

‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘It’s just something I use when I want to.’

‘Well, I hope I’m not going to get you into trouble,’ she ventured.

His cynical thoughts began to crumble when she looked at him like that. So…so sweet, he thought. So scrubbed and so innocent. So utterly relaxed in his company and now worrying about his welfare! And when had anyone ever done that before?

Now that it was dry, the tawny hair was spilling in profusion over her shoulders and face, but not quite managing to disguise the lush swell of her breasts. The aching in his body intensified as he imagined himself running the tips of his fingers over their heavy curves. ‘No, you won’t get me into trouble,’ he murmured. ‘I suspect he wouldn’t have minded rescuing you himself.’

The words were flirty, and almost imperceptibly something in the atmosphere changed and then intensified. A blurry sexual awareness that had been there all the time was now brought into sharp focus. Ella felt the warm tongue of desire licking its way over her skin and the heated clamour of her response. She found that she didn’t dare look at him—and yet where else was there to look? The room was so small, and he was so…so…

She swallowed, her mouth as dry as the sun-baked sand outside. ‘Maybe I should think about getting home,’ she said quietly.

Nico had watched her body tense, and then seen the wary look that crept into her eyes. He forced himself to steel against the demands of his hungry body, aware that he could frighten her away. Because sex was easy. He could get sex any time he wanted. But not a unique situation like this. And what would sex be like with a woman who didn’t know?

‘Not yet.’ His dark eyes on her face, he took a mouthful of wine. ‘You still haven’t told me anything about you.’

‘Well, you know my name. And I’m twenty-six and I was born in Somerset.’ Her eyes mocked him. ‘So now you know everything about me, too.’

‘Everything and nothing.’ He echoed her sardonic words. ‘And what of the men on board—one of them is your lover, perhaps?’

Ella found her cheeks colouring. ‘You can’t just come out and ask me something like that!’ she protested.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I thought we were sitting here having a polite conversation, and that sort of question breaks all the rules!’

‘A polite conversation?’ he murmured. ‘Oh, I think not, cara mia. When a man and a woman talk together there is always an internal dialogue taking place. What you say is never what you’re really thinking, deep down.’ Or else I would be telling you that I want to feel your naked body against me, to taste your tongue as it licks against my lips and hear your cry of startled pleasure as I thrust into you that sweet first time.

His murmured words increased her wariness, but heightened the sensation of tense expectation, too. Surely by now she should be itching to get away? Not finding her eyes drawn to the luscious curve of his lips, to the hard, clean lines of his body, and thinking how magnificent he must look when he was naked.

His voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘So?’ he persisted silkily. ‘You wish to rush away to the jail-house to greet one of them?’

‘Ugh—no, thanks!’ Ella shuddered. ‘None of them is my lover, nor ever would be. Mark is just someone I met through work.’ She bit her lip, remembering how trusting she had been. ‘He invited me along to join some friends of his for the weekend, only I arrived to discover that his idea about how we were going to spend our time together differed somewhat from mine.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I made it clear I wasn’t interested in him, and that’s when he decided to make love to a bottle of whisky instead.’ She pulled a face. ‘They all did.’

‘And did he hurt you?’ he demanded, his expression darkening.

Ella shook her head, taken aback by the sudden hardening of his voice. ‘No. I stayed as far away from them as possible. Then they started to drink more and more, and no one seemed capable of taking charge of the boat.’ Her voice trembled a little. ‘That’s when I started to get frightened.’

He remembered the way she had clung to him on deck, and the gut-wrenching effect of the little whimper of protest she had made when he had left her. The way she had weakly gripped onto his hand as if he were her lifeline. Playing rescuer to a woman could evoke some very powerful and primitive feelings, he recognised—feelings he was unfamiliar with, which were given extra potency by her ignorance of who he really was. And that, too, was a rare sensation.

He knew he wanted to make love to her, but he couldn’t do it now. Not here. Making love to a woman on his own territory was always fraught with difficulty. And he had no wish to shatter her trust in him, nor to abuse his position. When he took her to bed it must be on equal terms. And in order for that to happen he must get her back to England with as little fuss as possible.

‘You want to go home?’ he asked suddenly.

His question took Ella off-guard, and she hoped her expression managed to mask her disappointment. What had she been expecting? To stay here indefinitely, in this beautiful place, with this strong, handsome man who had saved her? Alone like Adam and Eve—with the inevitable outcome of sexual discovery?

She fixed her mouth into a wobbly kind of smile. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better.’

He heard her reluctance, and that only heightened his appetite. But, as he had already told her, hunger made the best sauce…

He slid a high tech-looking mobile phone from the back pocket of his jeans. ‘I’ll arrange it.’

He went outside to get a signal and she could hear him talking in a low, rapid voice in Spanish. Then he came back inside.

‘We can be airborne within the hour.’