His Royal Pleasure (10 page)

“You just liked his raunchy cigars.”

He looked down his nose at her in his most royal, forbidding manner. “Shall we commence with the lasagna recipe? I'll give you the instructions, and you can—”

“Do the work.” Katherine nodded and grinned. “Now why doesn't this surprise me?”

“Crush ten ripe tomatoes and—”

“Done.” Katherine slapped a can of crushed tomatoes on the counter. She opened it and mixed it with the ground beef, onions and spices simmering on the stove.

“This says you're supposed to use sausage.”

“We're substituting.” She dumped the lasagna noodles into the boiling water.

“The book says to watch the noodles carefully, so they'll be
al dente.
”

She nodded. “Have you spent much time in the kitchen?”

“No. But I think I'll catch on quickly. First coffee, now lasagna.”

Katherine didn't point out that his coffee was poured into the commode every morning. If the man wanted a fantasy, he was entitled. She rinsed the greens for the salad while he read a few more of the instructions. Then she buttered the French bread and wrapped it in foil.

“Use one pound of ricotta cheese,” he continued, and frowned at the carton she put on the counter. “That's not ricotta.”

Just a hint of impatience edged in. “Cottage cheese. American version. It's lower in fat and cheaper.” She poured the pasta into a colander.

“Is it
al dente?
”

“Alex,” she said, torn between amusement and irritation, “has anyone ever told you, you can be a royal pain?”

“Is this your gentle way of suggesting that I'm not being helpful?”

She walked over to him, pulled the book from his hands and gave him a hot, intimate kiss. She pulled back, breathing hard. His gaze was warm and inviting. She shook her head when he reached for her. “The salad dressing's in the refrigerator.”

Then, as she rinsed the pasta, he said, “There's a recipe for salad dressing in this book.”

She burst out laughing and turned around and shot him with the spray nozzle.

He shouted in indignation. He looked down at his drenched shirt in amazement, then at her. With murder in his eyes, he stalked over to her and grabbed the nozzle from her hands. “Do you know,” he asked in a deadly threatening voice, “what we do to women who dare to spray the prince with kitchen spray nozzles?”

She struggled against the giggle in her throat and coughed. “No,” she said, coughing again. “What do you do?”

Alex smiled an evil smile and shot her full-force with the water. “We spray them back.” Then he went one better and shot her again.

An hour later, after the lasagna had baked and they had both dried off, they sat down to enjoy the meal. “Tell me about Moreno,” Katherine said as she munched on a crust of French bread.

“Our waters are the clearest turquoise. The temperature stays between sixty and ninety. The island has an Old World charm. We don't have much crime. Neighbors look out for each other. There's a lot of pride in one's work.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think you'd like it there. Our educational system could use some work, but the advisory council has some older members who are slow to change.”

“They don't want to spend money.”

“Something like that.” Alex frowned, putting his fork on his plate. “There's one man in particular. Menard. I can't tell if his grudge is against me or if he's naturally contrary.”

“Is he older?”

Alex nodded.

“He may be threatened by your youth. Does he have any children or grandchildren?”

Alex shrugged. “I think so. I'm usually too busy arguing with him to find out.”

“I don't suppose you could fire him.”

He gave a wry grin. “No. He was appointed by my father.”

Katherine made a clucking sound of sympathy. “Never realized what a thankless job being a prince was.”

He reached out and took her hand. “Come here and stop torturing me. You've been away too long.”

Her heart melted, and she slipped from her chair and onto his lap. “The next time you see Mr. Menard, ask how many grandchildren he has. Then compliment him on his family. Maybe that'll quiet his grumblies.”

“And who will take care of
my
grumblies?”

Katherine's chest tightened. She winced and tried to turn it into a smile. She touched his hair with unsteady hands. He would be leaving soon. It hurt, worse than she'd planned. She took a deep breath. “Maybe you'll find a princess or a duchess with a sense of humor.”

His face grew shadowed. “But will she bring me fireflies?”

Katherine couldn't answer. The lump in her throat was too big. Her eyes began to burn.

He looked at her and swore in frustration. He pressed his mouth against hers to blot out the sadness. He held her so tightly, she felt the beat of his heart. “What are your plans for tonight,
mon ami?
” he asked in a low voice next to her ear.

Katherine closed her eyes and sighed. “I was going to take a shower, and then I thought we'd stay in if that's okay with you.”

“Good,” he said, and his voice held relief. A little later, after she'd cleared away the dishes and taken a shower, Katherine unwrapped the towel from her head and began combing out the tangles from her wet hair. She started humming and stopped herself. It had been a long time since she'd even looked at it, she thought, eyeing her closet.

Too long, she decided, opening the closet door. She rummaged past the shoes and boxes until she found the box she was looking for. Sitting on the floor, she carefully lifted the porcelain music box and set it on the carpet.

It was still beautiful. The man still had his arms clasped around the pretty lady. His head tilted toward hers; her gaze was lifted toward his.

Katherine noticed a few things she hadn't before. He held her so tightly that her dress wrinkled where he touched her. It was almost as if he were nudging her closer. And her hand didn't rest artfully on his shoulder. It clasped firmly. She seemed to be leaning in to him. The man's eyes and hair were dark like Alex's. Catching herself, Katherine shook her head at her craziness.

She blew the worst of the dust off the figures and wound it up. Nothing happened. Disappointment sifted through her. It had been broken for years, she reminded herself. There was no reason it should work now. She tinkered with it for a few minutes, trying to prod it into playing.

A light knock sounded at her door, and Alex walked in. The water from his recent shower dotted his chest and kept his hair smooth. The earring, which was a secret turn-on for Katherine, winked impudently. He wore a pair of jeans that outlined his lower body with heart-stopping intimacy. His gaze for her was equally intimate. Then he caught sight of the music box. “So, there it is.” He knelt beside her. “Will it play?”

“No,” she said sadly. “Still broken. Beautiful, but broken. It's probably because I played it so much that summer when I was ten.”

“And you think he looks like me?”

“Yes. Dark hair and eyes. Very gallant. Very intense.”

He touched the lady's hair, then Katherine's. “She should have been a redhead with eyes that shine like diamonds.”

“Think so?” she whispered.

Alex leaned closer and kissed her cheek. “I know so.” He shoved the closet door closed and gestured toward the full-length mirror. “Look.” He picked up the wide-tooth comb and pulled it through her hair. “What do you see?”

Katherine saw eyes that said too much and lips that wanted and needed. She saw a woman passionately, desperately in love. She closed her eyes against it. “I see the perm from hell.”

He gave her hair a sharp tug. “Wrong. You see the kind of hair men dream about. They fantasize about burying their fingers in it.”

“Honest?” Her eyes met his in the mirror. “Is that what you do?”

“Yes.” He pushed the collar of her robe down to her shoulder and kissed the skin there. “I think about how your hair would feel brushing against my chest and belly. The idea—” he paused, and his lips slanted sensually “—teases me.”

The idea teased her, too, but she'd wanted things to proceed differently tonight. She pulled away, standing. “You're messing up my plans. I wanted tonight to be special.”

He nodded, giving her a knowing look. “That's why you insisted on separate showers.”

“Yes. So I could get—” she felt flustered “—get pretty for you. Or at least try,” she muttered, looking away in embarrassment.

“You already are pretty—no, beautiful.” He rose to stand beside her. “But I'm curious. What would you have done?”

“I would have tried to tame my hair.”

“Too late. I like it wild, anyway. What else would you have done?”

She felt silly and self-conscious. She shrugged. “Just a few things. Women things,” she said, hoping that would be enough.

His gaze caressed her. “Perfume?”

She nodded.

“Makeup?”

“Just a little.”

His grin was slow and very male. “Sexy lingerie?”

He was enjoying her discomfort entirely too much. Katherine tilted her nose into the air. “Possibly.”

“Don't get snooty.” He took her hand and looked at it. “You don't need a manicure.” He frowned. “Come to think of it, you never need a manicure.”

“I do them when I'm nervous. Have since I was a teenager.”

He was silent for a long moment. “Your nails have been a different color nearly every day since I've been here.”

“I've been nervous nearly every day since you've been here,” she retorted, grabbing back her hand.

He chuckled and hugged her from behind. “So I've ruined your plans. Let me make it up to you.”

Her mind filled with unbidden sensual images. She shook her head. “No, it's not—”

He quieted her by covering her mouth with his hand. It was warm and gentle. “You're still resisting me.” He turned her to face the mirror. “Just for tonight, don't.”

Their gazes met and mingled in the dark reflection. She felt the call of him in her blood. Her chest tightened with anticipation, while a thread of apprehension wove its way around her belly. There was a dark desire that seemed to shimmer from him, and his eyes were fathoms deep with emotion.

She didn't want to miss it, she thought. Whatever he had to give, whatever she could give him, she wanted to give, for the time they had left. She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

He untied the belt of her robe. The lapels parted, revealing her bare skin, her cleavage, belly button and the wispy auburn hair at the top of her thighs. She took a deep breath, expecting him to push the robe off her shoulders.

He did. She waited, feeling sensual in her nudity, expecting him to carry her to bed.

“Stay here,” he murmured, and went to her vanity. He picked up one bottle and smelled it, then discarded it and picked up another. After the third one he nodded to himself and walked back with it in his hand.

“Would you have put it here?” he asked, rubbing the scent on her neck. He tilted the crystal bottle into his hand and slid his fingers between her breasts. “And here?”

Her throat thickened, and Katherine watched as her nipples tightened before his gaze and hers. She nodded. He smoothed his fingers down her belly, skimming to the inside of her thighs. “And here,” he whispered, caressing her.

An insidious weakness threatened her knees. Her legs felt boneless, and her skin felt much too hot. She closed her eyes.

“Don't close your eyes, Katherine. I want you to see you the way I see you.” He pushed her hair so that it fell over one shoulder, covering one breast. He ran his scented thumb over her shoulders and down her spine to her buttocks. Then he lost interest in the perfume, and after capping it, he carelessly shoved it back on the vanity.

“Which drawer is your gown in?”

“I can get it.” She started toward him.

“No. Wait there. I'll get it. Which drawer?”

She pointed to it, and he pulled out the gown she'd chosen, a slippery piece of coral satin with lace insets on the breasts and slits on each leg.

He pulled it over her head and smoothed it down her legs to where it flirted with her thighs. The perfume was sultry, wrapping around her and him, every time they moved. Every time they breathed, it seemed. She wanted the nightgown off. She wanted his skin against her instead.

“Alex,” she began.

“Lipstick and eyeliner,” he said in a husky voice. “Your cheeks are already flushed.”

Before she knew it, she felt the gentle glide of kohl eyeliner applied to her eyelids. His hands were warm against her hot skin. She stood still for his ministration, transfixed by his touch, by his deliberateness.

He slid coral lipstick over her lips, twice. Then, as with the perfume, he capped it and tossed it on the vanity. This time a hint of impatience bled through his movements.

Alex looked at her, his nostrils flaring. He pulled her against him. His chest was firm at her back, his arousal full at the back of her waist. He sifted his hands through her hair, then slid his palms over breasts and belly down to her thighs. He nuzzled his face into her hair, groaning. His hands left a trail of fire that licked at her veins, making her breath come in fits and starts.

“What do you see?” he asked in a rough voice, his hands continuing to move urgently beneath the coral satin.

Her thighs trembled. “I don't know,” she said helplessly. The feelings were too much, the arousal too consuming.

He made a sound of frustration and moved his hands to her breasts. “Then what do you feel,
chérie?
”

“I…feel…hot.”

He laughed, and the sound was rich with passion. “So do I. What else?”

She sighed, brokenly. “Sexy,” she admitted. She could hardly believe she was that woman in the mirror, the one with the full lips and come-hither eyes.