Drawing back her hand, she slapped his face.
Xerxes stared at her with surprise, his hand on his reddening cheek.
“How dare you kiss me!” she shouted, her hand still throbbing with pain from the strength of her blow. “I am a married woman!”
His lips twisted lazily as he suddenly relaxed. “You are not,” he said calmly, lifting a dark eyebrow. “And I weary of this discussion. But I’m finished. The kiss was merely to obtain the answer to a question.”
Which made no sense at all! “What question?”
He shrugged. “You did not know Växborg was married, or you would have tried to seduce me, to win me to your side. Which, with that clumsy kiss, you assuredly did not.”
Clumsy? Her cheeks became red as she sucked in her breath. She was clumsy?
It had been her first kiss. As a teenager, she’d been determined to wait for her idealistic vision of love’s first kiss; later, in her twenties, she’d felt too awkward to force it. A twenty-nine-year-old virgin was bad enough, but a woman that age who’d never even been kissed?
She had absolutely no intention of explaining that to Xerxes Novros, however, leaving herself open to his mockery!
“I see now that you’re not guilty of any crime,” he said carelessly, “except being gullible and naive.”
Gullible and naive. Rose stared at him. Well, maybe she was. Her lips still felt bruised where he’d kissed her. What was wrong with her? How could she have kissed him back, even for an instant? How could she have let her body utterly overrule her brain—and her heart?
“Don’t touch me again.”
“I won’t.”
Swallowing, she looked away. The electricity that had coursed through her body when he’d kissed her had been nothing like she’d ever felt before. She’d certainly never felt that way with Lars, not even when she’d allowed him to give her a single brief peck as the minister pronounced them man and wife!
She hated her captor, but not half so much as she hated herself at that moment.
“I mean it. If you try to kiss me again,” she said in a low voice, “I will kill you.”
“You are threatening me?” He sounded amused.
“Yes,” she snapped. It was no doubt stupid to threaten to kill a ruthless millionaire while trapped on his jet, but she was so angry and humiliated—and so overwhelmed still by the force of his kiss, the kiss he’d called clumsy—that she was beyond good sense.
His lips twisted into an amused half smile as he considered her. “All right.”
“All…all right?”
“I won’t kiss you again.”
She frowned, wondering if it was a trick. “You won’t?”
“I give you my word,” he said carelessly. “I won’t kiss you again. Not unless you beg me.”
“Perfect,” she said, wrapping her arms around her shivering body. “Because I will never, ever ask you to kiss me.”
Turning away, he sat down and reached for the tumbler, finishing the Scotch in one easy swallow. “Now that we have that settled…” He pressed the intercom. When a flight attendant entered, he told her abruptly, “Miss Linden is tired. Escort her to the bedroom.”
Rose whirled on him. “Your bedroom! I should have known it was a trick—”
“I will stay here,” he interrupted. He gave Rose one last glance with his inscrutable black eyes. “You have nothing to be afraid of now. Go rest. We will land in a few hours.”
Tucked in a tiny private bedroom at the back of the plane, Rose spent the remainder of the flight sitting in a hard chair beside the window, clutching her tattered wedding dress to her chest beneath a blanket, and staring out at the dark night.
Remembering the dark power of his embrace was like fire through her limbs. She still felt the hard heat of his mouth against hers, forcing her lips apart as he took her at his will.
The shock of pleasure had been beyond words. Beyond reason. And she hated him for it.
She stared out the tiny round window into the darkness. She tried to think of something else. Was her family terrified, waiting anxiously for news of her? Was Lars weeping, combing the bottom of his moat for her drowned body?
Please, let him have called the police, she prayed. Closing her eyes, she hoped feverishly that when they landed in Greece, they’d be met by a whole squadron who would cart Xerxes Novros off to prison like he deserved! Curling up in the chair, she imagined progressively more painful punishments for her kidnapper, until she must have fallen asleep to the enjoyable dreams before she felt his hand shaking her awake.
Her eyes flew open. Disoriented, she sat up.
Xerxes stood before her by the bed. She saw the plane had landed. Outside, the night was still dark, she saw a small, desolate airstrip by the sea. No flashing lights. No policemen.
Disappointment flashed through her.
Narrowing her eyes, she looked away. “I’m not leaving this jet.”
Xerxes held out his hand. “You will be far more comfortable in the house.”
She folded her arms coolly. “I’ll stay here, thank you.”
“Don’t you wish to speak with your boyfriend on the phone?”
His use of the word boyfriend made her fury spark. “You mean my husband.”
He snorted. “You are a stubborn woman.”
She rubbed her eyes wearily. Just thinking about how worried her family must all be about her made her need that phone call more than anything on earth. She glared up at her captor.
“Do you give your word that you do not intend to harm me?”
He curled his lip. “I would never hurt a woman.” He rubbed his cheek ruefully.
“A captive has the right to defend herself,” she said stiffly.
He looked down at her. “I would expect no less of you.”
He wasn’t staring at her with that hot light of hatred anymore. And yet there was still an undercurrent between them that she didn’t understand.
She missed Lars, who was so charmingly predictable, who though he didn’t always listen to her words, always gave her endless compliments. It had made her feel a bit uncomfortable, actually, the way he always stared at her so hungrily, telling her over and over that she was perfect. She knew she wasn’t perfect. But she’d told herself he had many years to understand her better after she became his wife.
If she even was his wife.
No! Rose pushed away the gnawing fear growing inside her. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow Xerxes to make her doubt Lars! She couldn’t trust this brutal, powerful man who’d kidnapped her, her husband’s enemy who’d just kissed her against her will.
Xerxes’s words were lies. They had to be.
She would have faith. Lars would save her and prove she was his true and legal wife. She wouldn’t allow Xerxes to make her doubt everything she believed in—not even for an instant!
Slowly, she rose to her feet, holding the torn bodice of her wedding gown tightly together over her chest. “As long as I have your word you won’t harm me.”
He gently brushed hair from her cheek. Lowering his head, he whispered in her ear, “I will not harm you.”
He