The Sheik and the Virgin Princess (11 page)

This statement produced more rapid-fire French, which ended when Marie clapped her hands together. “Ms. Paxton, Princess Sabra was very explicit. You and your sister were to have all new clothes. The bill was to go on the palace account. If you refuse, she will think you were not satisfied. She might decide to dismiss me. Without the patronage of the royal family, my boutique would not survive.” She shrugged. “So you see, you must accept her gift. For my sake.”

Cleo inched close. “It’s a darned good argument.”

“One I’m not sure I believe,” Zara whispered back.

“We have to have dresses for tonight. What if we just take those and tell her we’re too tired to shop for anything else?”

Zara nodded. Cleo’s plan made sense. She supposed that as the king’s daughter she would be expected to dress a certain way. Obviously her outlet mall days were behind her. But she couldn’t make too many changes at once without going crazy.

“Let’s start with dresses for tonight,” Zara told Marie. “That may take a while. We’ll deal with the rest of it later.”

Marie sighed with obvious relief. “Yes, of course.”

She clapped her hands. Several bags and one of the racks disappeared. Her assistants began sorting through the shoe boxes.

“Princess Sabra guessed on sizes. She trusted my judgment in what would be appropriate. We’ve brought shoes and evening bags, as well.”

Marie began flipping through dresses. She tossed several toward one assistant and other dresses toward another. Then she ordered Cleo and Zara into their bedrooms to try things on.

Zara found out right away that Marie and her assistant didn’t believe in modesty. Zara found herself standing by her bed and wearing only her panties. She tried to casually cross her arms over her small chest, but neither woman noticed. Instead they were discussing the various attributes of the dresses.

“You are very thin,” Marie said. “You can get away with something more dramatic.” She reached up and pulled Zara’s arms to her sides and frowned at her chest. “Your breasts are small, but we can help that with a bit of padding, yes?”

Mortified beyond words, Zara could only gulp air. Marie didn’t seem to notice. Instead she fingered Zara’s long hair and smiled. “We will put this up, I think. You don’t wear much makeup. With your skin it is not necessary. But tonight, a little extra will make you shine. Now for the dresses.”

They whipped them on and off her with lightning speed. Beaded gowns, velvet dresses, garments made from silk so delicate it was more like gossamer wings. At last Marie found one she liked and allowed Zara to look into the mirror. She nearly fell over.

The dress was a halter style, beaded and gold. The color shimmered with each movement, catching and reflecting light. But what stunned Zara was the front, which was cut down nearly to her waist. Straps of heavy fabric covered her breasts, but if she turned too quickly, she popped out, like bread from a toaster.

Marie clucked. “We would have to take this in a little and use the tape.”

Zara felt practically naked. “Tape?”

“It goes on the side of the halter, to keep the fabric pressed against your skin.”

“Ah, how do you get it off?”

Marie stared at her as if she were incredibly stupid. “You rip it quickly. It barely hurts.”

Zara tried to smile, although she was feeling a little nauseous. She had a bad feeling that what might barely hurt Marie would render her unconscious.

“Maybe a different style would be better,” she murmured.

They went through a half dozen more dresses until they found a simple slip dress in iridescent bronze silk. The material skimmed over her body, giving the illusion of curves, except on top. The color made her skin glow and she felt almost dressed.

“I like this one,” she said, wishing there was a way to add about two inches to her chest.

Marie nodded her agreement. “Yes. It’s very pretty. There are some bronze sandals.” She snapped out an order and sent the assistant scurrying.

Zara looked at herself from all angles. “This is great. Maybe I should ask Sabrina if this dress is all right,” she murmured, hoping her new almost-sister wouldn’t scratch her eyes out instead of giving an opinion.

“She will love it. While you do that, I’ll check on your sister.”

“Great.”

The dress was exactly the right length, Zara noted as she followed Marie back into the living room. The assistant handed her a pair of strappy, high-heeled sandals that fitted perfectly. Zara stepped out into the hallway, then paused when she realized she didn’t have a clue as to where she was supposed to go. How did people in the palace keep track of each other? Was there a palace operator or maybe a beeper system?

Before she could figure out what to do, a door opened a few feet down the hall. She almost wasn’t surprised when Rafe stepped out.

“What is it with you?” she asked before he could speak. “Do you have a light that goes off in your room if I leave mine?”

He looked her up and down. “You look nice. Is that for tonight?”

His compliment made her feel all soft and gooey inside. Then she remembered the very intimate conversation they’d had the previous night and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be embarrassed or not. Rafe felt like the only normal person in the tornado that was her current life.

“A woman showed up with a bunch of clothes for Cleo and me. We’re picking out dresses for the dinner.” She held out the skirt of the gown. “I thought maybe I’d ask Sabrina if this dress was all right. There are a couple of others that would work, but I like this one best. Still, I’m not sure I’m going in the right direction. I don’t have a lot of experience with formal state dinners.”

“She’s out with her husband and won’t be back for a couple of hours. I’d be happy to give you my opinion.”

Zara eyed him doubtfully. “Do you know anything about these kind of functions?”

“I’ve been to dozens. Show me what else you’re considering.”

This had been a stupid idea, Rafe told himself fifteen minutes later as he stood in the center of Zara’s bedroom and watched her model a strapless number in emerald green. Even though she disappeared into the bathroom to change, he could hear clothing rustle as she dressed, which was practically the same as seeing her change into each gown. The cut of the current one made it impossible for her to be wearing anything but panties underneath. Which made him think about joining her in the bathroom the next time she disappeared. Which made him think about very personal contact. Which made him hard.

He swore silently and shifted, then sank into a corner chair. With luck, the combination of shadows and her relative innocence would keep her from figuring out that he was aroused.

Zara turned back and forth in front of the full-length mirror. She put her hands on her waist and sighed.

“I don’t know if this looks weird,” she muttered. “Is my neck too long? Do I look like a skinny bird?”

“You look beautiful.”

She met his gaze in the mirror. “Why do I suddenly think that being nice to me is part of the job?”

“It’s not in the contract. Zara, you look great in that dress. So far I’ve liked all of them. What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. I want to look—” She shook her head. “I guess I want to look like someone else.”

“Why?”

“Because. I’m just ordinary. My skin is a decent color and it’s clear, so that’s nice. I guess I like my eyes, but my mouth is weird.”

He thought it was full and sensual. Her mouth made him think of kissing…intimate kissing. It made him wonder how her lips would feel on his body, his hands tangling in her hair as she—

Down boy, he told himself.

The bedroom door opened and Cleo breezed in. “I’ve found it,” she announced, grinning.

Zara looked at her sister and visibly wilted. Cleo’s dress was similar to Zara’s but in a deep cobalt blue that matched her eyes. The bustier bodice hugged lush curves that threatened to spill out with every breath. The straight skirt skimmed over Cleo’s full hips before falling to the floor. Zara looked cool and elegant, like an ice princess. Cleo was a walking, breathing invitation to have sex.

The two sisters looked at each other. Cleo’s smile faded. “Oh, no. We can’t be twins. If that’s the dress you want to wear, I’ll find something else.”

“Are you kidding?” Zara tugged at her loose bodice. “Even with padding, I’ll never do this dress justice. There’s another one I like just as well. I’ll wear that.”

“Are you sure?”

Zara managed a smile. “Cleo, you have to wear that. You look so fabulous that no one will notice me, which is exactly how I want things.”

“Okay. Great.”

Cleo saw him and gave a little wave. “You’re taking this protecting thing a little too seriously, aren’t you, Rafe?”

“Just here to give my opinion.”

“Sure.”

Her expression turned knowing, making him wonder if she’d figured out that Zara got to him.

Cleo sashayed out the door, closing it behind her. Zara covered her face in her hands.

“Did you see her?” she asked. “I can’t believe it. She has the most incredible body and I’m left with all the appeal of a green bean.”

“That’s not true.”

She lowered her hands. “You’re being nice and I appreciate it, but we both know the truth. All the padding in the world isn’t going to disguise my shortcomings.”

Without thinking, he rose to his feet and crossed the room to stand in front of her. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He turned her so that they were both facing the mirror. “What would you change?”

“Everything.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Without considering the intelligence of the move—or the potential consequences—he spun her toward him, pulled her close and kissed her.

Rafe couldn’t possibly be kissing her, Zara told herself, trying to stay calm. But even as the thought formed, his arms came around her body and pulled her close while his mouth settled on hers. It really felt like a kiss.

His lips were firm and warm, yet so tender she wanted to melt. His height allowed her to feel delicate and feminine as she snuggled in his embrace. She placed her hands on his shoulders, savoring the tense muscles shifting against her fingertips. Then he moved his mouth, and she couldn’t think anymore. Not when sweet sparks exploded in her chest, making her want with an intensity she’d never felt before.

His tongue swept against her bottom lip. Instinctively she parted for him, then waited expectantly for the first, intimate touch. He didn’t disappoint her. After tracing the inside of her lower lip, making her shiver, he moved closer and swept inside.

The first brush of his tongue nearly made her faint. Hot pleasure filled her body, starting in her chest, then moving lower. Her skin seemed to tighten and become more sensitized. She was aware of his hands on her body—one at the small of her back, one higher, on bare skin.

His fingers moved in time with his tongue, back and forth, around and around. Initially she’d touched him because they were kissing and she could, but now she clung to him. That whole bone-dissolve thing had started up again, and she knew she was in danger of falling.

Then there was the matter of her breasts. As small as they might be, they were exquisitely sensitive. As the passion grew, Zara felt her nipples tighten. When Rafe shifted, grinding his chest against her modest curves, she gasped from the contact. The combination of pleasure and tension was more than she was used to. She desperately wanted him to jerk down the zipper in the back of her dress and cover her breasts with his hands. At that moment she didn’t even care that they were small and unimpressive—she simply wanted him to touch them…to touch her…all of her.

Instead of reading her mind, he cupped her face, as if he needed to keep her from running while they kissed. The swirl of tongues, the press of bodies, was nearly more than she could stand. The room tilted slightly, but Zara found she didn’t care about things like staying conscious. What did that matter when compared with the glory of Rafe’s kiss?

She slipped her hands down to his side, then slid around to his back. He was so strong, so muscled. She wanted to see him without clothes; she wanted to touch him everywhere. She wanted—

He broke the kiss and nipped on her bottom lip. Before she could do more than gasp, he moved lower, kissing, nibbling, and licking his way over her jaw and down her throat. She held her breath, desperately hoping that he might have read her mind. Lower and lower until he reached the loose fabric over her breasts.

Instead of reaching for the zipper, he simply shoved the bodice down, baring her to the waist. Before she could protest, or cover herself, he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked.

She felt the fire all the way down to her toes. Rational thought fled, as did her ability to breathe. She could only gasp as he teased the sensitive bud and drove her wild with passion. Her thighs trembled and ached. Between them a throbbing began, one that made her remember that her very large bed was only a few feet away.

Rafe pulled away and swore. She thought he was going to step back, but instead he pulled her dress back up over her breasts, then jerked her against him and kissed her frantically. His fingers dug into her scalp, his tongue thrust against hers and his body melded with her own. She felt the hardness of his muscles, then a different kind of hardness. One that made her think he was as turned on as she was.