A coward.
Her heart began to race. Banishing fear, she lifted a hand to touch his cheek.
His smile became set, his gaze piercing. ‘Sure, Princess?’
‘My name is Serina,’ she said, holding his eyes.
She wanted him to kiss the woman she was, not the public persona—serene princess, daughter of a long line of monarchs, scion of a defunct throne.
Serina read comprehension in his eyes, and knew that for some reason he didn’t want to make the small surrender. She didn’t even know why it was so important to her.
Tension sparked the silence between them, turning it heavy with desire.
‘Do you know what you’re asking for?’ he said, a raw note altering the timbre of his voice and sending little shudders down her spine.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I know. But what do you want?’
Something flickered in the burnished blue of his eyes and brought a half-mocking smile to that wicked mouth, with its narrow top lip buttressed by a sensuous lower one. ‘A kiss,’ he said. ‘And I’m not asking, Serina—I’m taking what you’ve been silently promising me since we danced together at the wedding.’
He drew her towards him. She put a hand on his chest, looking up into an intense chiselled face. On a thrill that was half fear, half voluptuous anticipation, she thought he looked like a hunter.
Buoyed by a sudden, rather shameless relief, she nodded. Yet when he made no move she was assailed by shyness. Hot and embarrassing, colour stole along her cheekbones, but she met his eyes without wavering.
Although his eyes were still fiercely predatory, his voice became gentler. ‘All right?’
‘Yes.’
And when he bent his head and claimed her mouth with his own she yielded, leaning into him as he gathered her against him. White-hot sensations swamped her in a rush of adrenalin—his hard male contours, the taste of him, the faint barely-there fragrance that was his alone.
Her knees buckled and he tightened his grip, bringing her even closer to his powerful, fully aroused body.
Alex lifted his head and looked down into eyes that were slumbrous, almost dazed with passion, their violet-blue depths mysteriously dark. Gritting his teeth against a hungry surge of triumph, he fought back the primitive impulse to carry her across to the lounger a few metres away and take her then and there.
It was too soon, too public, and she deserved better than a hasty, violent consummation.
But he couldn’t resist the enticement of her soft lips. When he lowered his head and claimed them again, she melted into him without resistance, her open, sensual surrender setting off a torrid chain effect that affected his every clamorous cell.
He managed to call a halt, to look into her huge eyes and say in a voice that probably sounded as taut and explosive as he felt, ‘Serina—we have to stop this right now or it will be too late.’
Her lashes fell slowly, trembled against skin as translucent as the finest silk, but when she lifted them again she was once more in command of herself.
‘So we stop,’ she said, a husky note in her voice giving her away.
Alex found himself wishing he’d taken the chance.
For the first time ever he’d lost control, been tempted to follow his desires and damn the consequences.
Mastering his hunger, he released her and tried to summon his usual detached attitude. The aftermath of a carnal storm unlike anything he’d ever experienced made it near impossible.
Who’d have thought the gracious, reserved Princess would show all the instincts of a courtesan?
No, most courtesans had their eyes firmly on their bank balances, bargaining sex for security. Serina had offered herself ardently and without reserve.
And then he wondered whether she’d have been so passionately willing if they hadn’t spoken about her brother.
Even as the thought formulated, he knew it wasn’t likely. She seemed convinced that Doran and his friends were designing a video game, so why would she be concerned? She also guessed he’d warned Gerd about the possibility of trouble on his borders.
However, he had to assume that she might have been lying. An inner revulsion at the thought forced him to realise how much he wanted to trust her. The computer game story was a brilliant subterfuge, entirely believable. Pity it wasn’t true. Young Doran and his band of romantic, eager conspirators had no idea what they’d got into.
He looked down into her face and saw with savage satisfaction that she too was struggling for control. The ache in his groin intensified into a plea, a demand—almost a command. He fought it back because he didn’t dare give his innermost instinct free rein.
He’d be betraying Gerd and Rosie if he didn’t make every effort to find out whether Serina knew anything—any small scrap of information that could lead them to the people who were backing her brother and his friends. In spite of their efforts, he and Gerd still weren’t sure who was pulling the strings, or why, although they had their suspicions. If the Princess had any inkling, he was honour bound to find out.
And if that meant seducing her into pillow talk, then it would have to be done. It was, quite literally, a matter of life and death, not only for her brother and his friends, but for many other people.
Serina looked up, catching a glimpse of something harsh and grim in his eyes. Chilled, she masked a shiver by turning away so she could pretend to examine the rose again.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said evenly.
‘Why?’ She even managed a smile. ‘I know the tabloids call me the ice princess, but surely you don’t believe them? I have been kissed before.’
His brows rose and he surprised her by stooping to snap off the bloom and hold it out to her. In a wry voice he told her, ‘I’m sorry because I stupidly made the arrangement for our flights without thinking that we might want to prolong our stay here.’
Colour heated her skin. Now—or never, she thought, wondering if he could hear her heart thudding so heavily in her chest.
Now. Because she wanted to know what making love to Alex was like infinitely more than she wanted to obey the strictures drummed into her by her mother and her governess. For the first time in her life she realised how potent desire could be…
‘I—thank you,’ she said, and answered his unspoken proposition by lifting the flower to her lips, still tender from his kisses. The petals were warm and smooth and she inhaled their sweetly provocative perfume.
Hastily, she said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rose exactly this shade of red before. And, as it seems perfectly happy growing in a pot, I’d like to buy one for myself when I get back home. It should enjoy living on my balcony, and it would be a charming reminder of my visit here.’
‘If you want a true reminder of New Zealand, a native plant might be more appropriate. You can buy sealed packets of seeds that are acceptable to most countries now.’
How could he switch so abruptly—from the passionately demanding kisses of a few minutes ago to this pleasant, conversational courtesy?
With ease, clearly. Emotion and sensation were still churning through her, but Alex was once more fully in control.
‘I’ll look out for them.’ She turned to go, but remembered something. ‘What time do you plan to leave this morning?’
He paused, as though remembering something. ‘There’s been a change of plan—if you’re happy with it. I met friends at the dinner last night who live not far north of here in a vineyard. Their garden is beautiful—a showpiece.