King's Ransom (Man on a Mission 2)

“Never.” She shook her head, remembering telling him the same thing at the reception. “Never again.”

Again there was that faint, tantalizing smile that reminded her of how she’d responded to him only a few minutes ago. Of how her body had fought her mind and had almost won. Of how much her body still wanted him, even now, even when he wasn’t touching her. But he didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. He merely turned, moved the tapestry to one side and disappeared into the darkness.

Chapter 9

Back in his bedroom Andre paced until his body calmed down, until his heartbeat slowed and the blood no longer raced in his veins. But a flicker of hope had been ignited. He’d been so close. So close to having Juliana again he hadn’t wanted to let her go when she’d struggled against him—but he had. Instantly. He’d sworn to himself he would wait until she came to him.

He hadn’t intended to seduce her. Hadn’t intended to touch her at all. He honestly had gone to her room merely to apologize. He’d considered going to her suite via the main corridor, but he hadn’t wanted to compromise her. In addition to his own bodyguard and the ones assigned to her—the ones she still didn’t know anything about—anyone could have seen him in the hallway, knocking at her door, and at that time of night it would seem...curious. Possibly suspicious. Certainly worthy of comment. While his bodyguards were discretion personified and the household staff knew better than to gossip outside the walls about anything going on in the palace, he didn’t want backstairs gossip making the rounds about Juliana.

He hadn’t seen her in the corner of her bedroom when he’d first entered it through the passageway, and he’d thought she wasn’t there. He’d planned to enter the sitting room to wait for her return, apologize for not believing her about DeWinter and leave. Simple. Straightforward. But when he turned and saw her reflection in the mirror, saw her undressing, he’d been frozen. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Then she’d seen him. Ordered him to leave. And when she’d clutched the bodice of her dress like an outraged virgin, he’d moved. Not to leave, as his brain told him to do. But toward her. Needing to touch her the way he needed to breathe.

To hear her accuse him of hurting her had been more than he could bear. He had to remind her of what it had really been like all those years ago. Had to remind her that she had come to him. But when he touched her, when he smelled the delicate scent that rose from her heated skin, he couldn’t stop. His brain kept telling him to stop, but his body refused to obey. Because every word he whispered to her reminded him of what it had been like to make love to her. What it had been like to know she loved him enough to come to him.

And her body had responded to his. Finally. She didn’t want it to—oh yes, he could tell she was fighting her body’s response—but he knew she wanted him, too. At last. Not enough. Not yet. But it would happen. He knew it in his heart. He could wait until then. He’d waited all these years, hadn’t he?

With that realization he finally let himself grow calm enough to focus on something else. Something that had been weighing on his mind for several days. Juliana was in danger. She didn’t know it, seemed totally oblivious to the fact that someone had deliberately tried to run her down the day she’d visited the royal cemetery. But he was as sure as a man could be. The Mercedes had turned out to be stolen. That meant someone had planned the attack on her.

Should he tell Juliana? Warn her? If he did, would she believe him? Not unless you tell her how you know, he admitted to himself, and he wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet. Because he didn’t know how she’d react when he told her his men had been guarding her for the past three years. That his men had surrounded her in the first-class cabin on the plane bringing her here. That she hadn’t taken a single step since she’d been in Zakhar without men following her, keeping her safe.

Not stalking her. That wasn’t it at all, but she might feel that way. Might feel it was an unwarranted intrusion into her life, and he couldn’t take that risk—he had to keep her safe no matter what.

He’d already doubled the surveillance and protection on Juliana, which meant he ran the risk she would notice she was being guarded. But that was better than the alternative.

* * *

Juliana tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Unable to erase the evening from her mind. Not just Andre appearing in her bedroom, but earlier, in the little library. All the different ways he’d looked at her. The way he’d held her in his strong embrace, his voice tenderly coaxing her to confide in him while his heart beat so reassuringly beneath her ear. The emotions in his voice, his face, his eyes. Sweet, then autocratic. Demanding, then tender. Gentle, then implacable. All the facets of his personality she remembered from her growing-up years. Her beau ideal prince.