‘Is doormat a word you understand?’
Her eyes flashed up at him like deep pools of jade backlit by fire. ‘Are you implying that I’m a doormat?’
Rafe shrugged, enjoying her display of defiance. ‘If the shoe fits.’
‘The shoe does not fit,’ she said a little too vehemently. ‘The fact is my father has been through a lot in recent years and I’m not going to add to his problems. And this is partly your brother’s fault. If he had gone ahead with our marriage as he had agreed to do then none of this would be an issue right now.’
‘But nor would you have got to kiss me quite so passionately, so there is that.’
Her feathers well and truly ruffled, the Princess pushed to her feet. ‘You either have a colossal ego or you’re making fun of me.’
‘Let’s go with the ego theory. A lot less volatile.’ Rafe crossed to the booze cabinet between two arched bookcases and poured himself a whisky. ‘Drink?’ he asked, holding the crystal decanter up for her to see.
She set her top teeth into her plush bottom lip, reminding him of how exquisite her mouth had felt under his, and surprised him with a terse nod.
‘Dutiful does not equal doormat, you know.’ She moved towards him, careful not to touch his fingers as she took the glass. He gave her a small smile that said he knew exactly how nervous he made her and watched her chin come up in response. ‘Not that I expect you to understand that.’
‘I understand it,’ he said curtly. ‘I just don’t adhere to it.’
‘Well, you’re lucky. I don’t have that choice.’
Rafe clinked the ice in his glass, wondering what it was about her he found so enthralling. Because he did find her enthralling—from the way she moved to the feminine lilt in her voice, and definitely in the sexy lines of her body. He suspected that she took life far too seriously, and for some reason he wanted to change that.
‘You’re an intelligent, beautiful woman,’ he began, watching her closely. ‘And a future queen. How hard can it be to find a husband?’
‘It’s not hard at all.’ She sighed. ‘But finding the right husband is.’
‘Do I even want to know what the right husband looks like?’
‘Someone kind, compassionate, caring.’ She took a delicate sip of his brother’s hundred-year-old Scotch, shuddering delicately as it hit the back of her throat. ‘Someone I can respect and who will put Berenia first. Someone who has a similar outlook to me.’
‘Not looking for someone with a sense of humour?’ he enquired lightly.
Alexa frowned. ‘That would go under “similar outlook to me”.’
‘So none then.’ He grinned as her eyes widened. ‘What about love?’
‘I have a sense of humour, thank you very much,’ she defended hotly. ‘And love is not essential.’
Rafe’s eyes widened at that. ‘I think you’re the first woman I’ve ever heard admit that.’
‘Love complicates things and who even knows if it exists? I think it’s made up by Hollywood executives and songwriters trying to make money.’
‘And I thought I was cynical.’ Her brow furrowed and his grin widened. ‘That was a compliment, by the way. But what about passion? Surely that’s on your list.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Not essential either. I’m not the most passionate person on the planet, and respect far outweighs passion.’
Contemplating what had put her off passion when his body still throbbed at the memory of her mouth opening under his, Rafe gave her a smile that was pure sex. ‘You felt pretty passionate to me before.’
She moved to sit again on the sofa, unable to meet his gaze. ‘That wasn’t me. I don’t know who that person was.’
‘Whoever she was, she was intoxicating.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘So will you consider it? I’m not sure how long I have before my father takes the decision completely out of
my hands. And, frankly, I’m desperate.’
‘I can see that.’ He was actually sorry he had to turn her offer down. If life hadn’t taught him that he needed to steer clear of matrimonial entanglements at all costs he might even have considered it. But marriage had the potential to inflict pain on the unwary and the innocent. Why would any man deliberately buy into that? Temporary or not. ‘Sorry, Princess, but I’m not that desperate.’