The count would be furious if he thought the woman he’d targeted as a ticket to respectability and even greater power was slipping through his fingers.
And furious men made mistakes.
Gastano had already tried to establish contact with Lexie. Rafiq recalled Gastano’s email note, written in a tone he probably intended to be disarming, but with enough innuendo to summon a shockingly forthright and very territorial response from Rafiq. And although he couldn’t find a logical reason for it, he still felt strongly that hiding her away from Gastano was the only way to keep her safe.
Because of Hani? He dismissed that thought. His sister had been naïve; Lexie was not. Even if she had been when she met Gastano, two months as his mistress would have put paid to any innocence.
The question Rafiq couldn’t ask nagged at him. Had she responded to Gastano with the same wildfire passion she’d revealed in his own arms?
The thought made his fists clench. Watching the way the golden lamplight shifted and shimmered across her bent head as she carefully sorted the chessmen, Rafiq wondered again if his objectivity was being hijacked by his response to her. Those smoky blue eyes, half-hidden by her long, black lashes, might mask her thoughts, but nothing could disguise that softly sensuous mouth.
His gaze hardened as Lexie slid the queens into place, capable fingers moving swiftly, her lashes casting shadowy fans on her exquisite skin.
Lexie looked up to find her host’s dark eyes on her, intent and speculative, as though trying to see into her soul. Her nerves sparked and colour heated her cheeks.
‘You look tired,’ he said quietly. ‘How is your neck?’
Her colour deepened. ‘It’s fine, thank you. It just catches me now and then.’
She took her time about closing the case that held the chess set, fiddling with the catch until she regained some composure. But although her skin was cool once more, the fire inside her still burned with a fierce, hungry flame.
Getting to her feet, she said a little shortly, ‘It’s been a lovely evening. Thank you.’
He rose with her, looking down from his considerably superior height with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. They walked in silence across the bridge and back through the castle.
Lexie wished she could be as controlled. His nearness was delicious torture. She both longed for the door of her room and resented its imminence, torn between this dangerously addictive arousal and the knowledge that the chemistry between them meant nothing more than uncomplicated, old-fashioned animal magnetism.
Looked at from a biological point of view, she thought, trying hard to be dispassionate and scientific, the volatile attraction pounding through her bloodstream and alerting every cell in her body was a natural urge stimulated by hormones that somehow knew she and Rafiq would make splendid children together.
Something deep inside her melted.
Ruthlessly she told herself it didn’t mean she was in love with him. He certainly wasn’t in love with her. It was simply a matter of genes, the need to perpetuate the species—all the things she’d learned in her long and expensive university training.
And although her response to him was a fiery torment, it didn’t really mean much. Worldwide, there were probably millions of men she could feel this way about.
She’d just never met one before.
Anyway, when she married she wanted what Jacoba had—a man who adored her and accepted her as his equal in every way.
Not someone who saw her simply as a sexual partner.
Rafiq’s voice broke in on her ragged thoughts as they reached the door of her room. ‘That is an interesting expression.’
She stiffened, her brain searching for something innocuous to say. Lamely—and too quickly—she said, ‘I was thinking about a biological… Ah, about biology.’
His lips curved in a wry, humourless smile, and his eyes were darkly shaded. ‘So was I.’ The last word was spoken against her eager, expectant mouth.
His previous kisses had been explorations, she thought dimly; this one wasn’t. He knew what she wanted, and when she gave a muffled groan and surrendered, he gathered her even closer so that she could feel his physical reaction—the electric intensity of his desire, the erotic difference between her female softness and his male power.
A rush of adrenalin sharpened her senses as her body sprang into exhilarating life. Shivering with delight, she forgot everything but the sheer physical magic of his embrace and her mindless, primal response. His body heat, the strength of his hands on her, the faint, intrinsic scent of him, the tactile excitement of his skin beneath her seeking fingers—all combined to add sensual fuel to that inner fire burning away inhibitions and caution.
RAFIQ loosened his arms and rested his cheek on the top of Lexie’s head, gently rocking her in his arms while she came back to earth.
‘It is too soon,’ he said, his voice oddly harsh. ‘And although you are like wildfire in my arms, there are smudges under those beautiful eyes, and I think you are trying to stifle a yawn in my shoulder. Good night, Lexie. Sleep well. Tomorrow I will take you on the trip that was cut short by the accident.’
She might see something of the famed wild horses of Moraze. Lexie should have been delighted. To her shock and dismay, all she could summon was mild enthusiasm. Stifling a small sound of protest, she composed her expression into serenity and eased back, feeling foolishly bereft when he let her go with insulting ease.
‘I’ll look forward to that.’ Oh Lord; her voice was breathy and soft, as though she were mimicking Marilyn Monroe!
Without meeting his eyes, she directed a swift, shaken smile at him and turned into her room, nerves jumping when she closed the door. She leaned back against the carved wood, striving to force strength into her lax bones.
This whole situation was too dangerous. She shouldn’t have allowed those passionate moments in his arms, moments charged with a carnal magic that still ached through her.
Allowed them? She’d welcomed them, surrendered to them, wallowed in the erotic excitement of them, until in the end she’d had no defences left. The intensity of her emotions, the sensations Rafiq made her feel, scared her. When he touched her she lost herself, became someone different, an alien person with no shame and no control.
Lexie wrenched herself upright and walked across to a window, staring out across the lagoon to the white line of the reef.
Slowly she dragged air into her lungs. These bewildering days on Moraze were teaching her that she wasn’t capable of an easy relationship with lots of lust followed by a cheerful goodbye once it was sated.
‘Not my style,’ she said a little bitterly to the silent room. Certainly not with Rafiq…
But at least she’d learned one thing about him: he didn’t want just casual sex either. Because he could have had her right there and then, and he’d known it, yet he’d pulled back.
She set her jaw. Because her resistance was so easily breached, there must be no more of this perilous intimacy. After tomorrow she’d leave the castle. And she’d make it clear she wasn’t in the market for, well, anything. He wouldn’t press her; Rafiq de Couteveille was a sophisticated man, and there were plenty of sophisticated, experienced women who’d be more than happy to satisfy his urges.
And that sharp stab of emotion was not jealousy, or—worse still—anguish at the thought!
‘There!’ Rafiq pointed over her shoulder, his voice urgent. ‘Can you see them?’
‘Yes.’ Thrilled,