Forced Wife, Royal Love-Child. Trish Morey

hand up on the wall beside her head with his elbow bent, now so close she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. ‘Have dinner with me tonight.’

      She shook her head, wishing the action would also negate the intoxicating scent of the man that came with his proximity. ‘Not a chance. I have to get back and you know it.’

      ‘So get back later. I’m a lonely prince in a castello. Indulge me.’

      ‘Indulge you?’ She attempted another laugh—there was no way she was feeling sorry for him—but this one came out all brittle and false so she switched to words instead, remembering the precious cargo she’d had to transport to the island only hours earlier. ‘Besides, what about your Signorina Genevieve? Won’t she be expecting you to dine with her? Or are you planning on abandoning your latest plaything in order to slum it with the hired help?’

      His eyes took on a feral gleam. ‘My “latest plaything”? Oh, now, that is interesting.’

      She regarded him suspiciously, ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘Merely that anyone would think you were jealous. And why would you be jealous of the Signorina Genevieve unless you thought she had access to something you wanted—or perhaps, someone?’

      ‘Don’t flatter yourself! As far as I’m concerned, she’s welcome to you.’

      He sighed. ‘I’m sure she would be pleased to hear you say that, but, alas, Signorina Genevieve has already departed, courtesy of the helicopter you left so carelessly unattended.’ Sienna opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off with the briefest touch of his finger to her lips, a touch which caused a hitch in her breath as her senses sizzled into high alert again. ‘Which means I find myself without a dinner companion tonight.’ He gave a very stiff bow. ‘Would you do me the honour?’

      It was surreal. Whatever had transpired between them before, he was now a Mediterranean prince, bowing to a complete nobody and asking her to dine with him.

      Unless he was merely desperate…

      ‘So Lady Genevieve turned you down and you expect me to pick up the pieces?’

      Rafe’s hand slammed against the wall alongside her head, before he spun and strode away, his hands on his hips. And when he turned, it was a flash of fury she saw in his eyes.

      ‘This is nothing to do with Genevieve or anyone else. This is between you and me.’

      ‘Why?’ she asked, all too aware of the breathlessness that accompanied her question. ‘Why me?’

      He moved closer, stopping only inches away before he raised a hand to her face and traced the curve of her jaw. ‘Because the moment I saw you emerge from that helicopter, I knew I wanted you again.’

      She gasped, heat rushing through her on a tide. His brazen admission shocked her to her core, but already she felt the answering call of her body to his words in the tightening fullness of her breasts and the aching need between her thighs, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if she didn’t get out of here soon, she would once again fall victim to the sensual spell he cast around her.

      ‘Th-that’s too bad,’ she stammered. ‘I have to go.’

      ‘But that’s impossible,’ he told her, still in that mellifluous ribbon of a voice, a ribbon that seemed to be drawing ever tighter around her. ‘Because you see—’ he gestured out the window to where a catamaran could be seen rounding the headland and speeding away from the island ‘—that’s the last vessel to sail to Genoa today. And you’ve just missed it.’

      His words blasted through the sensual fog more effectively than a dousing with a bucket of iced water. She watched the catamaran power into the distance, leaving behind twin trails of foaming water, feeling herself just as churned. ‘There has to be another way off! An airport. A private charter—’

      ‘Sadly, not today. And as you can see, we have no helicopter—’

      ‘That’s crazy. It’s barely six o’clock in the afternoon. There must be something—’

      ‘As I said, not today. Tonight there will be no moon, and Velattians are superstitious; nobody will risk travelling while the Beast of Iseo patrols.’

      ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

      ‘The Beast of Iseo. Surely you’ve heard of it.’ He pointed again out the window to where the massive jagged blade of rock thrust from the sea into the sky some kilometres from the island. ‘Iseo’s Pyramid, the remnants of the caldera of an ancient volcano, is its home. According to the ancient legend, The Beast of Iseo emerges on the blackest of nights, foraging for wayward travellers. It’s a charming legend, full of local colour, don’t you think? Although it does mean you will be forced to spend the night here.’

      The full impact of what he was saying hit home like a sucker punch. She was trapped here for the night. With him.

      ‘I’m not staying here with you. I can’t. My employer will be waiting for me. I’ll lose my job…’

      ‘Your employer has been made aware of the situation and the fact you will be staying. Besides, you have no choice; there is no way of getting you off the island, even if I could help you.’

      ‘But it makes no sense. It’s just a legend. And yet you cease all transport to and from the Island because of it?’

      ‘You’re not superstitious, Sienna? You don’t believe in the Beast?’

      ‘Oh, I believe in the Beast of Iseo. Right now I’m looking at him.’

      He laughed in a way that made it plain he was enjoying his role as captor all too much, and that got so far under her skin that there was no coming out. ‘You bastard. You planned all this, didn’t you? You kept me here, waiting for hours, knowing I’d be trapped and that I’d have no choice but to stay on the island.’

      He shrugged, looking far too smug for her liking. ‘I fear you misjudge me. It was hardly my intention at all, merely an unfortunate result of Lady Genevieve’s stage mother’s inability to accept no for an answer. But maybe her recalcitrance was more fortunate than I gave it credit for.’