Roarke's Kingdom

“Your arrogance is appalling. I’m King Midas. And you—” He reached out and lightly clasped her wrists. “You,” he said, drawing her toward him, “are Lady Bountiful, bored with life and willing to amuse herself by playing with dolls.”

“It isn’t that at all. I—I like children.” Jennifer’s mouth trembled. “It—it hurts me to think of a child being lonely, wanting love or attention or—or—”

“Daddy!”

Roarke looked over Jennifer’s shoulder. His face changed instantly, the dark scowl replaced by a smile so dazzling that it transformed him.

“Susanna.”

Jennifer turned as Roarke let go of her.

The nanny was standing a few yards down the beach, smiling—and she was holding Roarke’s daughter a child in her arms.

Roarke dropped to his knees and held out his arms as the nanny lowered the child to the sand. Susanna raced to him, her little face beaming, and he caught her and swung her high over his head as he got to his feet.

“Hello, sweetheart. Did you think I wasn’t coming back for you?” He turned the little girl toward Jennifer. “Susu, this is Jennifer. Can you say hello?”

Roarke’s daughter giggled. “’Lo, Jenfer.”

Susanna had dark hair. Blue eyes. There was a set to her mouth that looked—that looked somehow familiar…

“It’s your fault Susanna thought I’d deserted her,” Roarke said.

Jennifer blinked and looked at him.

“I—I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said, my desertion’s your fault. Emilia whisked Susu off for a bath and a nap after our helicopter ride. I promised I’d come up and tuck her in.” A teasing light danced in his eyes. “But I got delayed, rescuing you.”

“You didn’t rescue me. I was doing just fine, until you—” Jennifer stared at him. “What helicopter ride?”

Roarke set the child down and patted her bottom gently, and she ran up the beach to Emilia.

“The one that brought Susanna and me back from San Juan. Well, from Miami, actually. But—”

“You mean—you mean Susanna was with you? She wasn’t here while you were gone on business?”

“What a script you’ve written,” he said with cool amusement. “Big, bad Roarke Campbell, the heartless captain of industry…”

“Wait a minute. I didn’t—”

“…the heartless captain of industry who flies off to make millions while his daughter languishes, unloved, in his castle.” His mouth thinned. “Have I left anything out?”

“That’s not—I didn’t—” Jennifer fell silent. He was right, and they both knew it. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Very sorry.”

Roarke said nothing. Then he sighed, tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and they began walking toward the house.

“I guess I can’t really blame you.” He gave her a quick glance. “I suppose I did come on like the king of Isla de la Pantera for a while.”

My God, she thought in amazement, was he actually apologizing?

“Look,” he said, as if he’d read her mind, “this isn’t an apology—”

Jennifer bit back a smile. “No,” she said mildly, “I didn’t imagine it would be.”

“But it is an explanation.” He cleared his throat. “The thing is, I was suspicious about you.”

Her throat constricted. He had every right to be, but she couldn’t tell him that.