Stolen Kiss From a Prince (12 page)

His explosive passion taught her that.

More, the man cared, for his nephew, for his family, for his country. Perhaps too much. For all his cool reserve, he gave his full attention to whatever was before him. Nobody could fault him on his dedication.

And right now, all that lovely attention was focused on her.

She took the tray and leaned across him to set it on the table, then she stood and held out her hand. “Come. Let us feast.”

Taking her hand, he surged to his feet and pulled her to him, claiming her mouth in a kiss that demonstrated just how hot-blooded he was. He took and she gave, her surrender becoming its own demand, for more, for hotter, for him.

A breeze blew a fine mist over the terrace. She gasped, the cold water a shock against her overheated skin.

“The storm is getting closer.” She snuggled into Julian’s warmth.

“Sometimes I like to sit out here and watch the storm roil across the sky. But not tonight.” He solved the problem by sweeping her into his arms and stepping into the room. “Tonight I want to watch your face as the storm we create flashes through your eyes.”

“Feast and storms,” she teased, looping her arms around his shoulders. “Sounds like a soggy picnic.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “So much for romance.”

“I do not need romance.” She stroked his jaw. “I prefer honesty.”

“I, too, detest games.”

“I know.” She sighed as he set her on her feet beside the bed. “You are the most truthful and honorable man I know. Our time together is so limited.” Her fingers went to the buckle of his belt. “Let us not waste time. Make love to me.”

He caught her fingers, brought them to his mouth for a brief kiss. “You make me want to linger, to play. No time with you is wasted. I speak the truth when I say I want to watch you ignite in my arms.”

He placed her fingers on the top button of his shirt then his went to work on hers. “I agree the time for talk is over, but I will not be rushed.” He bent his head to nibble the exposed curve of her neck. “I intend to take my time.”

So that was his plan. To take his time. He’d certainly been doing that. Giving her the tour, feeding her, all the while seducing her with soft touches and heated kisses. Slowly, surely, he’d gotten her all worked up. And now he wanted to put the brakes on again? No.

“Then we are at odds, lover.” She grasped the edges of his shirt and pulled with all her strength. Buttons flew in every direction as the hard planes of his chest were revealed. “Hmm.” She hummed her approval. “You take your time, but I am done waiting.” And she dived in for a taste of all that yummy skin.

The muscles under her lips moved as he chuckled. “So contrary. You go at your pace and I’ll go at mine.” He lifted her head to press a kiss to her lips. “I am sure we will meet up in the middle.”

She smiled and nipped his bottom lip. “Get naked. Now.”

Surprisingly—considering his slower agenda— he complied. He shrugged out of his ruined shirt, stepped out of his pants and briefs. His socks flew over his shoulder and then she was finally in his bed. And while he slowly undressed her, she trailed her hands over every muscle and bulge, enjoying the feel of him, smooth in some places, hair roughened in others.

Every caress led to a need for more. Everything about him was vital, resilient, addicting. He was all male and he made her feel alive, feminine, empowered.

But with every slow, deliberate touch, she felt a growing urgency. Even as she clung to him, time seemed so short. If this night was all they had, she couldn’t waste a second.

She arched under the soft caress of his hands. With deliberate, unhurried determination he stripped her, carefully leaving her nearly sheer cotton camisole, and then proceeded to trace the curve of her body until he cupped her breasts under the soft fabric. With loving, torturous precision, his mouth tormented the tips through the cloth bringing her exquisite pleasure.

Okay, that slowed her down. Kind of hard to seduce him while she soared on sensation. Then again, maybe this was where they met up. He certainly had her attention. She dug her nails into his back and lifted into his touch, pushing her breast into his hand, wanting more, wanting it harder.

He didn’t disappoint. But neither did he hurry.

“Beast,” she taunted him. “Stop teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he breathed against her ear. “Pleasing.”

“Not fast enough.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” He slid his hand down her hip. “We have all the time in the world.”

“But we do not,” she corrected him. “Time is slipping away. We must hurry or we will lose this opportunity.”

“Not a chance.”

“But—”

“Shh, my dove. We have all night. And I won’t be rushed.”

How could he be so calm? “You could get called away at any minute.”

“Is that what you’re worried about? No need.” He trailed his mouth along her collarbone. “No one will disturb me short of World War Three.”

She pulled back, her eyes going wide. “
Mon dieu
, we have just jinxed the world.”

He laughed, causing his body to rub against hers in interesting ways. “You are such a delight.” A hard kiss destroyed her thought processes. “If this is the end of the world, then let us make it worthwhile.”

“If this is the end of the world—” she rose up, and biting her lip, pulled her camisole up and off “—then I do not want anything between us.”

His eyes glinted in approval, easing her anxiety. He rose up next to her, drawing her to him, offering her the shelter of his arms, replacing fear with wonder.

Sighing, she gave herself into his care.

His talented fingers sent her body arching again. His reverent touch making her feel cherished. And still he would not be rushed. Darn him. Her nerves sizzled. What he did to her defied rational thought. He went to her head like the finest champagne, making her tipsy on sensation.

Still a novice at lovemaking, she mimicked his every caress, doing unto him what he did to her, and soon she experienced the thrill of having him on the brink of losing control. He joined them with more urgency than care, and she loved how driven he was.

She wrapped him in her arms and rode the storm, feasting on his cry of fulfillment. And when the world exploded in a prolonged moment of bliss, World War Three could be raging outside and she wouldn’t even know.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

D
AWN
JUST
TOUCHED
the horizon when Katrina strolled with Sammy onto the terrace for breakfast a week later. Disappointment bit deep when she saw the empty chair at the head of the table. No Julian.

She hoped he was only running late. This time alone with him—well, except for Sammy—had become a favorite time of day. Superseded only by the passionate nights when he managed to steal through the secret passage to light up her world.

The time was fast approaching for her to leave. Sammy had taken to Inga. And though he still ran to Katrina, the time would soon come when delaying her exit would be more detrimental than beneficial.

A maid arrived with a tray of food. She set it in the middle of the table, nodded and retreated.

Katrina had made two official appearances with Sammy, one with Giselle at a hospital luncheon and one with the royal family as King Lowell accepted a Cross of Saint James awarded to Donal for his dedicated service to the Kardanian Armed Services. It was the highest honor a soldier could receive.

There hadn’t been a dry eye at the ceremony, except for Sammy, who didn’t understand. He’d been more upset by her tears than by the accolades heaped on his father. With the resilience of the very young, he was already moving on. Yes, he still missed his parents, but he was more concerned with what was in front of him than in those beyond his reach. It was both sad and encouraging.

And ultimately the best thing for Sammy.

She’d helped him through the transition, but soon she would become a part of what he needed to set aside in order to move forward.

But she wasn’t ready to go.

She glanced at the terrace door, hoping to see Julian appear. This past week had been the happiest of her life. Not even having the press latch onto her connection to Jean Claude could dim the joy she took in Julian’s arms. And the attention hadn’t been that bad. The connection seemed to legitimize her presence at the funeral, and she was praised for her assistance during a difficult time.

Julian was quick to point out she’d worried over nothing.

She sighed. So far.

When everything was so good, she couldn’t help worrying something would come along to spoil it.

“Where Unca Julie?” Sammy demanded. He did enjoy his mornings with his uncle.

“Uncle Julian is a busy man.” She dished some hot cereal up for the boy and set it in front of him. “Hopefully he will be here soon.”

Sammy nodded and dug into his food. Katrina waited for Julian for a few minutes but when he didn’t appear, she made herself a plate of eggs and rashers and a bit of toast. After she caught herself glancing at the door for the third time, she reached for the paper set on the table in front of Julian’s seat.

She flipped it open and froze. The paper shook until she dropped it onto her plate of half-eaten eggs. It wouldn’t matter. She felt sick. She buried shaking hands in her lap as she reread the headline.

PRINCE JULIAN GRIEVES IN THE ARMS OF JEAN CLAUDE’S GODDAUGHTER. IS THERE A ROYAL WEDDING ON THE CARDS?

Under the caption was a picture of Katrina locked in Julian’s arms. They were kissing, his hair was tousled and her clothes were in disarray. It was more than clear what they’d been doing and what they intended to do. They were on the balcony of Julian’s home.

The blood drained from her face leaving her light-headed. She closed her eyes, unable to look at the picture of a special moment turned ugly. This was what she’d feared, becoming a public embarrassment.

It tore her up, knowing her father would see the image. And Jean Claude. And Bernadette. Worse, Julian and King Lowell had probably seen it. Was that why Julian wasn’t at the table?

Of course it was. He was probably working on damage control right now.

No need to read the article.

Her stomach churned and spots formed before her eyes. Frightened because Sammy was there, and she was responsible for his care, she scooted back and put her head in her lap. Immediately the dots began to fade.

“K’tina okay?” Sammy climbed off his chair to pet her hair.

Great, a young child was comforting her. That really spoke to her state of mind.

Pulling herself together, she lifted her head and gave him a weak smile. “I am fine. Just a little tummy ache.”

“You need medcin?” he asked, worry puckering his little forehead.

Damage control. That’s what she needed, action to replace the helplessness that nearly incapacitated her from the moment she saw the newest life-destroying photo.

“No. Medicine will not help me.” Her heart wrenched at his obvious concern. He was such a sweet boy, and the whole world now believed she’d used him to get to his uncle. The situation was intolerable. “Come on. Time to return to the nursery.”

After dropping Sammy off with Inga, Katrina returned to her room and went straight to the secret passageway. This was the first time she’d used it without Julian, but she found the hidden lever and the door swung silently open.

A little nervous, she stepped inside. She remembered Julian pointing out his office when they were making their escape the night of the funeral. She hoped she could find her way.

The last thing she wanted to do was publicly approach his office. Not now the whole of Kardana knew they were lovers. The need for discretion became imperative as the forbidden embrace posted in full color flashed before her mind’s eye.

Quickly making her way along the narrow corridor, she found the stairs and went down two flights then took the first passageway on the left. She hadn’t noticed the two times she was with Julian—the night of their escape and the memorable night he’d insisted on having her in his bed—just how many passages made up the inner workings of the castle. A person could seriously get lost in here.

Actually the prospect didn’t overly worry her at the moment. In fact, disappearing held a certain appeal.

Except she wasn’t that big a coward.

Keeping a low profile to prevent episodes such as this was one thing, leaving others to clean up her mess was another. She’d allowed her father and Jean Claude to call the shots three years ago because she’d been a traumatized innocent, but now she was an adult. She was responsible for her own actions.

She warned Julian this could happen, yet she’d let him seduce her into believing they were safe tucked away at his home. This just proved there was nowhere the press couldn’t reach with their high-tech cameras.

At the third door down, she paused to listen. Nothing. Did that mean he wasn’t in there, she had the wrong room or perhaps the rooms were soundproofed? Given the delicate nature and highly confidential conversations that took place in these offices, she suspected the third option.

Mon Dieu
, that meant she’d have to open the door to discover if Julian was inside. Crossing her fingers, she turned the knob and inched the door forward.

“Marriage?” Julian’s voice.

She sighed, thank goodness. She pushed the door another inch and froze. From the small view of books and statuary she knew immediately she had the wrong room.

“Really, Father, when did you start believing the headlines?” The derision in Julian’s tone stung. She more than anyone knew the headlines were a gross overstatement of the situation, still she had hoped for a little sympathy.

She backed up, intending to leave, but the sleeve of her sweater caught on the doorjamb. She tugged, but it held. Unfortunately, it was her right arm and she couldn’t see where it caught.

The conversation in the room continued.

“I am not talking about the headlines. Though you should know the reaction of the people is quite favorable. They are pleased at the notion of a royal romance.”

“Romance always catches the imagination of the people,” Julian said dismissively. “It will pass as all gossip does.”

Was it really that easy for him? Had he not considered her position at all? Katrina struggled with the captive threads. The sweater was already snagged beyond repair, but she dare not pull free and leave evidence of her presence behind.

“You deliberately misunderstand me. I am talking about a serious romance resulting in a real marriage creating a family for you and Samson.”

“You’re suggesting I get married to provide Sammy with a new mother?”

“My son, we have seen how fragile life can be. I am telling you it is your duty to marry and provide an heir.”

“You have two...that’s usually considered enough.”

“Do not get flippant with me. This is important.”

“This is too much.” The movement of Julian’s voice indicated he’d risen to pace. “I have all I can handle. I have neither the time nor the inclination to look for a wife.”

Mon Dieu,
that stung, too. For no good reason. She’d never presumed to think their relationship would go beyond this time and place.

Liar,
her conscious scolded.

And, oh lord, it was true. She lost her heart to him when he asked her to hold his hand on the train. His vulnerability in that moment touched something deep within her. She’d been his ever since.

“You found the time to be with Katrina,” King Lowell pointed out.

“You begrudge me a little distraction?” Frustration frayed Julian’s control.

“Only when it comes at the expense of an international incident.”

“Jean Claude is a friend. He knows I would never hurt Katrina.”

Really?
Katrina bit her lip. She wished she were so sure.

“Uh!” Her breath caught as she pricked her finger on the stubborn splinter holding her confined. Then suddenly the material gave and she was free. She checked to be sure no threads were left behind before fleeing to the safety of her rooms, tears staining her cheeks.

*

“Jean Claude is a friend. He knows I would never hurt Katrina,” Julian claimed, making a mental note to return his friend’s call as soon as he finished with his father. Which he prayed would be soon. This ridiculous conversation was a waste of his time. He would not be pressured by his father or anyone when it came to choosing a wife.

Hell, there were days since the crash when he felt like he had to schedule time to breathe.

The only peace he had these days were the scant hours he spent in Katrina’s arms. In those precious minutes he felt no demand for his attention, no political pressure, no claim of duty, no need to be “on.” She accepted him for himself and gave freely of herself.

He lacked any desire to hurt her. And even less to replace her.

When he saw the picture in the paper this morning, he knew it was bad. Knew Katrina would freak and his father would disapprove. The one thing he hadn’t anticipated was a demand from the King to marry and provide a family for Sammy.

He should have. His father had been showing his fear of mortality lately. Muttering fatalistic comments and pulling back from his duties. Donal’s passing only made it worse.

Julian refused to be the next victim.

“I would rather not test the theory of friend over family.” Agitation lent a rosy hue to Lowell’s pale features as he rejected Jean Claude’s goodwill. Pulling rank agreed with him. He looked more robust than he had in months. “If you are not serious about the girl, send her home.”

No!

The muscles in Julian’s shoulders tightened. In full revolt he informed his father, “Out of respect for you as my father and my King, I have allowed you to dictate many things in my life. Who and when I marry is not going to be one of them.”

“Julian, life is rarely fair. I know much is being asked of you, so I will drop it for now.” Unperturbed by Julian’s bid for independence, Lowell leaned back in his desk chair. “I have no doubt you will do your duty to the crown. The people and the press will serve as my heralds until you do.”

“You forget, Father. I am a champion at ignoring the press.” His reputation for being cold had been well earned in that regard. Finally it served a purpose. He observed his self-satisfied parent with narrowed eyes. “Since you are in fighting form this morning, you may take the meeting on educational reform. Speaking of duty, it’s time you picked up some of the slack around here.”

Leaving his father sputtering his outrage, Julian departed the King’s office. He was late for breakfast with Katrina and Sammy. He reached the terrace to find their places cleared. Only his setting remained, sans the standard copy of the paper.

As he stood viewing the table, Grimes arrived with a folded copy of the paper on a tray.

“Sorry, my lord. Ms. Vicente quite destroyed the first copy.”

Damn. He wanted to be with her when she saw the picture.

“Did she appear upset?” he demanded.

“Yes, she seemed quite distressed when she left here with Master Samson about twenty minutes ago.”

“Thank you.” Julian turned for the door.

“My lord,” Grimes protested, “your breakfast.”

He wasn’t hungry. But he’d also learned long days required constant refueling. Julian swung back, grabbed a croissant, tore it in half and stuffed it with eggs and sausage. As he passed Grimes, he instructed, “You may clear the table.”

On his way to the nursery he tagged Neil on his mobile phone. “Where is Katrina?”

“She’s in the gym.”

“Thanks.” He adjusted his direction. Of course she went to the gym. She worked out daily. And the Lord knew he understood the need to pound out your troubles.

“My lord—” Neil caught Julian before he disconnected “—security picked her up in the passageway next to the King’s office about ten minutes ago.”

“Sh–” He bit off the profanity. “I’m going to the gym. See that we are not disturbed. Advise Carl my father will be taking the early meeting.”

“The press secretary—”

“Everything waits.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Julian ended the call as he entered the gym and turned into the men’s locker room. If he was going to go a few rounds with Katrina, he needed to be dressed for success.

*

Katrina landed a roundhouse kick in the center of the punching bag. It required little style but provided a satisfying impact. She followed up with a two-one punch. Yah, yah.