‘Better,’ the photographer muttered. ‘Do you think you might be able to smile?’
Alek glanced up from his appallingly lustful stare at her lips to her eyes and amusement flashed between them. He chuckled the same split second she did. And there it was—that soft, enchanting smile he’d not seen enough of. A hot, raw tsunami swept through him at the sight. He wanted more of it.
‘Yes!’
Now the photographer sounded far too ecstatic for Alek’s liking.
‘We’ll get changed for the next few shots.’ He wanted to be alone with her. He wanted to make her smile again and he didn’t want witnesses.
‘Good idea.’ Hester bit her lip and walked from the room.
Alek automatically followed her into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. ‘What colour are—?’
‘Oh!’ She started and then stared bug-eyed at his chest.
Her eyes grew so round he almost preened as he shrugged his shirt all the way off.
‘Is there a problem?’ He couldn’t help teasing her. But he was beginning to realise the real problem was all his.
No sex for a year?
‘I n-need to get changed,’ she stammered.
‘So get changed.’ With exaggerated civility he bowed and then turned his back to her and unlocked the wardrobe for a fresh shirt.
‘This is your bedroom?’ she choked. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise when we put all the clothes...’
‘I don’t mind, Hester.’
But it was obvious she minded very much. All that efficient poise of hers had vanished and he couldn’t help enjoying the moment. It was because of him.
‘Let me know when it’s safe to turn around again,’ he offered with a self-mocking smile. He’d prove his ‘gentleman’ credentials—to himself as much as to her.
The following silence was appallingly long. He waited, his new shirt buttoned up all the damn way, for what felt like decades for her to give him the all-clear.
‘Um...’ She finally coughed. ‘Would you mind helping me with the zip?’
Oh, was that the problem? ‘Sure.’ Smothering a laugh, he turned, only to freeze at the sight of her smooth bare back. A gorgeous expanse of creamy skin was edged by the curling sweep of her voluminous golden brown hair—inviting him closer, to touch. Instead he carefully took the dress in the tips of his fingers so as not to inadvertently touch her skin. To prove his restraint to himself. Slowly he pulled the zip up, hiding her from his hungry eyes again. The desire to lean closer, to touch where he had no permission, almost overwhelmed him. By the time he finished the simple task he could barely breathe. He stepped back, coldly furious with himself. Damn if he didn’t need to clear his head.
At that moment she turned and he glimpsed fire gleaming in her eyes. That barely hidden blaze of desire slammed the brakes on his breathing all over again.
‘You look...’ He couldn’t think of an adjective—he could only think of action. Impossible action.
‘Let’s finish this,’ she muttered, quickly turning to leave the room.
‘Right.’ He’d never been rendered speechless before and it took him several minutes to catch his breath. Several minutes in which he had to look into a camera and smile as if this were the happiest day of his life. And then he just gave up. ‘Give us a second.’
He took Hester by the hand and walked her down to the other end of the lounge.
‘You get sick of it,’ she said.
‘Utterly,’ he admitted, so happy to see her sweet smile flash instantly.
‘It must be intense, knowing absolutely everyone around is watching you all the time.’
‘You learn to tune it out.’
‘And pretend it’s normal?’ She glanced away, her smile impish as she took in the artwork adorning the plane’s interior. ‘As if any of this is normal?’
‘Well...’ he shrugged ‘...it is normal for me.’ He nudged her chin so she looked back at him. ‘It bothers you?’
To his gratification, she leaned a little closer as she shook her head, her gaze locked on his.
‘That looks amazing.’ A masculine voice interrupted from a distance.
Alek froze. He’d completely forgotten the photographer was still down the other end of the lounge. The startled look in Hester’s face revealed she’d forgotten too and the half-laugh that escaped from her glossy pout was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. Smiling back, he pulled her close on pure instinct. The temptation to test the softness of her lips stormed through his reason. Time stopped as he stared into her eyes, trying to read her soft heat and stillness. Could he coax her into—?
‘So perfect,’ the photographer muttered.
‘Enough,’ Alek snapped, enraged by the second intrusion. ‘We’ll be landing soon.’ He dragged in a calming breath to recover his temper.
But it was too late. Hester had already pulled free and that fragile promise was lost.
The photographer quickly retreated to the rear of the plane.
‘Everyone will assume this marriage is only because of the coronation requirement.’ Her cheeks were still flushed as she sat in the seat and picked up that damn tablet again. He wished he’d never given it to her. ‘Do you think it’s really necessary for us to try to sell this as a love match?’
‘You don’t want to be treated as a joke. I have no desire for that either.’ Oddly he felt more responsibility about that now. A flicker of protectiveness towards her had surged. ‘I think we can pull it off. Who’s to say it’s not so?’
She hesitated. ‘Okay, but the agreement is just between us. Not written down anywhere. I don’t want lawyers getting involved and leaking information.’
‘You trust that I won’t renege on our deal?’
‘You have more to lose than I do.’ She leaned back into the corner of her chair, still staring at the tablet screen. ‘Your reputation actually matters.’
She determinedly studied the information he’d put together for her to do a good job. Yet at the same time, she was determined not to care what anyone thought. Not even him. She seemed to care, yet not.
Intrigued, he studied her. Even in that gorgeous green silk dress, she reminded him of a little sparrow, carefully not taking up too much space in case she was chased away. Only taking crumbs and not demanding anything more. Why was that? Why wasn’t she close to her family? Why had she not invited any friends to the wedding? It puzzled him because she was kind. Her friendliness to that feral cat showed that. And more telling, was her relationship with Fi. Fiorella, for all her faults, was a good judge of character. And it wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to lose Hester as her assistant. It was that she’d been concerned for her. Was that because Fi saw vulnerability beneath that serenity as well?
The insidious warmth steadily built within him. He could go without intimacy for a year, of course he could. But his body rebelled at the thought. He was attracted to her and that attraction seemed to be building by the second. He gritted his teeth, determined to master it, because he was going to have to keep his fiancée close over these next few days and there could be no risk of complicating what should be a perfectly amicable agreement.
‘This isn’t enough.’ She glanced up at him.
‘Pardon?’
‘I understand more about Triscari’s population, economy and geography than I ever thought I’d want to. I know the potted history of your royal family and all that drama with the palace and the castle stuff. But I don’t know about you.’
A ripple of pleasure skittered down his spine. She was curious about him?
‘If I’m to convince people we’re a couple then I need to know some facts,’ she added primly.
Oh, she just wanted meaningless facts?
‘You want my dating profile?’ he teased, then chuckled at the glowering look she shot him. ‘I enjoy horses, playing polo. My star si
gn is Scorpio. Apparently that makes me passionate—’
‘What are your weaknesses?’ she interrupted with a bored tone. ‘What do you hate?’
So there was a little real curiosity there.
‘I hate pickles. And I hate being told what to do.’ He stared at her pointedly. ‘By anyone.’
She gazed limpidly at him, not backing down. ‘What else?’