The Princess and the Bodyguard (3 page)

“I’m not English, I’m Canadian.”

“Same thing.”

“I didn’t realize you had prurient fantasies, pal.” Peter waited to see how his friend reacted to
that
insult. Fortunately—or unfortunately—Michael didn’t rise to the bait.

“I don’t. I think the two of you are well-suited.”

“I don’t quite know how to take that, m
on ami
. You’ve called her a shrew, and a few other colorful and not altogether complimentary names, since I’ve known you.”

“Please, take it in the best possible way. So, what will you do about her? With regard to this current situation, that is.”

Peter held the chilled bottle of water to his forehead for a moment. Eyes closed, he rolled it back and forth and tried to think. Alex hadn’t told him of his decision not to tell Rachel about the letters. Therefore, Alex hadn’t told Peter not to tell her.

He opened his eyes and fixed his stare on Michael. “I’m going to show her the letters. In my opinion, this situation will go much more smoothly if Rachel has all the facts.”

Michael shrugged. “That is your call, then, as chief of security. And what are you going to do about her, in the other sense?”

Despite his friend’s teasing smile, Peter scowled. All well and good for Michael to try and play matchmaker. But despite their four years of friendship, the Crown Prince of Boisdemer really didn’t have a clue what kind of man Peter was, or the sorts of things he’d done in the past. If a man like him came sniffing around
his
sister, he’d shoot the bastard. Period.

“Not a damn thing. With any luck, Rachel will fall in love with some pampered prince and live happily ever after.” Unwilling to hear whatever teasing barb Michael might shoot next, Peter made his escape. Walking down the hall toward his apartment in the palace, he thought a nice, hot shower would be the thing to wash away the dregs of his workout. But nothing, he knew, would ever wash Rachel from his soul.
Not
having her would remain a fact of life he’d have to live with.

* * * *

Alex felt hours had gone by instead of only moments since he’d asked for forgiveness. Hannah’s answer was that important to him.
She
was important to him. He’d suffered these past two weeks. He didn’t know how he could have become addicted to Hannah Jones so quickly, but he had. Thinking about taking her upstairs, stripping her naked and
feasting
on her had him hard.

“Yes. Yes, I forgive you. Only…”

“What, sweetheart? Anything, just
tell
me.”

He didn’t count the tear gently rolling down her cheek a bad thing. He lightly squeezed her hands in a show of encouragement.

“Promise that you’ll never lie to me again.”

“I promise. Anything else?”

“Please, kiss me.”

“Oh, yes.”

His hands shook when he cupped her face and laid his lips on hers. He didn’t care. There would be no secrets between them, never again. He wanted her to realize how very much he desired her. He stroked her lips with his tongue, and when she opened her mouth to him, he plundered. His blood sang with the taste of her, and he knew it would take hours, days,
weeks
before he drank his fill. Her arms encircled his neck, and he pulled her closer, his need for her nearly eclipsing his common sense.

Caressing her face he ended the kiss and whispered, “Why don’t I show you to your room?”

“Why don’t you?”

The walk from the music room to the Rose Suite had never seemed so long. He had the very devil of a time maintaining decorous conduct, which he felt necessary in case they encountered staff along the way. He’d laced his fingers with Hannah’s, though, and they walked quickly. It pleased him beyond words that she seemed eager to be alone, too.

He led her up the main, winding staircase and then down the corridor to the left at the top of the stairs. Stopping before a large white door, Alex gathered her into a fast, hot kiss, then opened the door.

“This is the Rose Suite.”

“Oh my. It’s
beautiful
. And so large! Is that why Justin seemed offended that you meant for me to have it?”

Alex shook his head, closed the door, and took her hand. Kissing it, he said, “No. This is why.” He led her to the right, to another door in an adjacent wall. Opening it, he stepped back and motioned for her to enter.

“This is my bedroom.”

He had come in behind her. Gently, he massaged her shoulders, her neck, and then caressed down her arms. He could feel the tension leaving her and smiled when she leaned back against him.

“I’ve cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. I have been dreaming of having you here, in my bed, for what feels like forever. Will you let me have you, Hannah?”

Truly not knowing what to expect, he stepped back when she moved. For her to have forgiven his lie was one thing. To allow the resumption of the intimacy they’d shared, quite another.

He watched, transfixed, as she walked slowly toward his bed. When she turned to face him, she began opening the buttons of her blouse.

“I hope you still have those condoms.”

Alex laughed with the sheer joy of being alive. He rushed to her, kissed her, then opened the drawer of his beside table.

“Oh my goodness.”

“Each box holds one dozen.”

“Alex, there must be twenty boxes here!”

“I didn’t want to take the chance of running out.”

When Hannah giggled, Alex took over the task of unbuttoning her blouse. Slipping it from her shoulders, he dropped it carelessly to the floor. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulled her between his legs, then reached behind her to release the hooks of her bra.

“Oh, hello again, ladies,” he whispered, softly cupping her breasts in his hands.

Her nipples responded so beautifully to his lips and tongue and teeth. The taste of her aroused him, intoxicated him. He would never get enough of her flavor, or her heat. As he suckled one nipple, then the other, he smoothed his hands over her ass and pulled her closer. Hannah’s moans told him she liked his ministrations. Her hands—one reaching down to caress his clothing-covered cock while the other fisted his hair—told him she wanted to return the favor.

“Alex, let me.”

When he lifted his head, she caught his lips in a deep, drugging kiss. Her tongue invaded his mouth like she only had a moment to taste all of him.

“Oh, Hannah,” he sighed when she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I have missed you so.”

“I’ve missed you, too. I’m sorry we’ve wasted so much of our time together. Same rules?”

The question caught him off guard. “Rules?”

“Hmm. Something about being adventurous enough to demand and give new experiences.”

He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. “Absolutely.”

“Good.”

He didn’t understand her Cheshire-cat grin until she dropped to her knees before him and opened his pants.

* * * *

This was something she wanted to do more than she ever could have imagined. The need to taste him, to pleasure him as he had her had grown to monumental proportions in the last two weeks. This act of love she’d never performed before, a gift she could give the man she loved that she’d given to no other.

Alex gasped when she freed his cock. Hannah nearly smiled when he cursed, low and heartfelt, as she took him into her mouth. The taste of him, the scent that was different right
there,
like nowhere else, aroused her nearly beyond bearing. She took his cock deep, touching the thick, smooth head to the back of her throat, then slid her mouth nearly off him. She played her tongue up and down his shaft and gently cupped his balls with her right hand.

“Oh, Lord.”

She lifted her mouth long enough to smile up at him and ask, “You like?”

“What’s not to like? No one, Hannah, no one has ever—”

“Hush. I know. Same goes.”

This
, she thought, taking him into her mouth again,
this was love
. She didn’t have the courage to tell him the words. She didn’t want to see the look on his face when he explained to her that his being a king limited what they could have. She knew that already. So, she would tell him she loved him in the only way open to her, by giving him all the pleasure he would take and accepting the same in return.

His fingers fisted in her hair, firm but trying so obviously not to be rough that it excited her even more. He groaned, low and deep, and bent over her. “I can’t take much more, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a throaty rasp, “I want to be inside you. This first time after what seems like forever, I need to be inside you when I come.”

Loving him, she granted him his wish. Quickly, she dropped the rest of her clothes, and helped Alex shed his. She reached to take the condom from his hand, but he held it back, slid it on himself, saying, “If you touch me again, I’ll come.”

“Then I’d just have to work at getting you hard again.”

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear. You will. We have all afternoon, and I plan to fuck your brains out.”

Hannah’s breath hitched. He only spoke so frankly when at the very edge of his control, at the threshold between civilized man and primal male.

“Good, I want you to fuck my brains out.”

They didn’t take the time to strip the blankets down. Hannah scrambled onto the bed, and only had a second to spread her legs wide before Alex covered her, his presence between her legs warm and powerful. Then he thrust into her hard and fast and deep, and for the first time in two weeks, Hannah felt whole.

He made her mouth water.

Rachel had never come to his office before. In her quest to get him to notice her as a woman, she’d believed that encounters away from his workspace would be best. She’d thought that away from the office, she might have a better chance of getting his mind off his job. But now, observing him unnoticed, she wondered if he ever left his job behind. Over the last few years, had he ever spent much time relaxing? Had he dated? Funny, but thinking about it now, Rachel didn’t know.

Well, hell, how could I not know if he has a girlfriend?

Proving he wasn’t oblivious, Peter said, “How long are you going to stand there casting stones at me in your mind?”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. All she’d have to do to wipe that half-bored, half-patronizing expression off his face would be to tell him what she’d really been thinking about—him naked, preferably with her naked, too. But of course, she didn’t. Not that she feared conducting an all-out frontal assault. She would if it became necessary. But at the moment, she had other things on her agenda.

“I didn’t want to interrupt. You looked busy.”

“I am busy. I’m surprised you’d let that stop you.”

His smile only slightly mollified her annoyance at his dig. She strode into the room, waving him down when he would have stood—not out of respect for her personally, she knew, but because of her rank. Sitting in one of the two chairs facing his desk, she scanned the room.

“I imagined your office would look more like Michael’s. Surely my father could afford to give you more space than this closet.”

“That must be some wardrobe you’ve got, Your Highness, if the size of this office seems closet-like.”

“One can never have too many clothes,
mon cher
.”

“
That
sounds expensive. Fortunately, I know that over the years, you’ve designed and made most of your outfits yourself.”

Rachel blinked. She’d no idea he knew that. Wanting to keep the banter going, she said, “Darling, it
is
expensive. Consider that everything in my closet is an original de la Croix.”

“I thought you were going to call the label
Rachel
.”

“No.” Restless, she got up and walked around the room. One window looked out over her great-grandmother’s rose garden. On any given day in the growing season, people busily tended the flowers. Some blossoms ended up in Waterford vases in key rooms throughout the palace. Most, though, grew freely, scenting the air with their fragrance. A few times throughout the summer, the royal family hosted various civic groups, with a tour of Queen Isabella’s Gardens a featured highlight of those events.

When she turned back, she saw Peter had set his work aside, and watched her. He’d always done this, she thought now. He’d always given her space to think when she’d needed it, without feeling the need to crowd the air with questions, or useless words designed to impress.

“I know that’s been the consensus around the dinner table a few nights running, but calling the line
Rachel
seems too pretentious to me. The de la Croix family has ruled Boisdemer for hundreds of years. In a very real sense, de la Croix
is
Boisdemer. So that’s what I’ve decided to call it.”

She wondered at the look that crossed his face. She tried to keep her disappointment from showing when he didn’t comment, but said, instead, “Do you have a few minutes now to look at those letters, or do you want to wait until after your business meeting?”

“Let’s get it over with now, all right?”

There must have been something in her tone, because Peter leaned forward in his chair, his expression tender.

“Rachel, if you’re only doing this to prove to yourself there really
are
letters, that they’re the reason for your father’s order of increased security, won’t my promise that it’s true convince you? Can’t you let that be enough?”

“I do believe you. Tell me, if those letters threatened my sister, would you hesitate to show her if she asked to see them?”