He gave her an intimate half-smile. “That said, may I kiss you? You see, I am really…dying to kiss you, Daniela.”
“S-sir! Your Highness!”
“A royal command, my lady. I am your sovereign lord, am I not?” he asked softly.
She lowered her head, heart pounding, her cheeks hot with shame. “I—I am not that kind of girl.”
“You’d make an exception for me, wouldn’t you, sweet?”
“I will
not
.” She jerked her chin upward again and glared at him, angry and frightened.
He smiled enigmatically, the calculating intelligence in his eyes churning, layer upon layer of complexity. He lifted her trembling hand from her side and raised it to his lips with flawless self-assurance. He paused, smiling slightly as he held her gaze.
“What I want for my birthday—what I really need,” he mused, “is a lovely new mistress. She must have red hair and stunning eyes of aquamarine, and she must know how to make gunpowder. Know anyone who might fit the bill?”
“You are shocking!” she breathed.
“My dear,” he whispered, “I have not yet begun to shock you.” With that, he dipped his tawny head and kissed her hand—not her knuckles, but the juncture of her thumb—and she gasped as she felt the tip of his tongue flick lightly into the V of her fist. She pulled her hand to her chest and stared up at him in openmouthed bewilderment.
He smiled serenely, a dangerous sparkle in his eyes. “Would you like a drink before we begin? The wine has had a nice chance to breathe and I daresay you look like you could use it.” He turned away, strolling to the small night table where the wine waited.
Dani was frozen like a garden stature.
Staring at his broad back that tapered down to his lean waist, she felt faint.
He was toying with her. Surely. He knew she was the Masked Rider and he was just cruelly toying with her, cat and mouse.
Wasn’t he?
She heard the wine splash softly into one glass, then the other.
“Has the cat got your tongue, my dear? Well, no matter. I didn’t bring you here for conversation, did I?” He cast her a roguish wink and held out the glass of wine to her. “Come along, take it.”
If he had been Lucifer offering her a glass of human blood, she couldn’t have cringed from him more.
Abruptly she found her voice. “What is the meaning of this?”
He chuckled softly and sat on the bed, loosening his cravat. “My, you are young, aren’t you? How old are you, Lady Daniela?”
“One and twenty.”
“You look sixteen. Eighteen at the most.”
Heart pounding, she glanced at the turned-back sheets, the chilled wine, then at him—the confirmed libertine. She blinked in disbelief.
Could it be true? Was she in the clear?
She had seen him up there on that narrow gallery, surveying the crowd. Was that what he had been doing up there—selecting his prey?
She nearly laughed aloud in disbelief. All those beautiful women down there and he had picked her? He must be drunk. But Lord, he was gorgeous enough to tempt her.
As though he had read her mind, he gave her a lazy, knowing half-smile, trailing his wineglass teasingly across his lips, then he took a long drink.
Rather fascinated as he swallowed, she watched the lift and fall of his Adam’s apple where he had undone his cravat. His throat was golden, as was the inch or so of his chest visible in the V at the top of his pristine white shirt.
He lowered his glass from his lips and licked them slowly as his gaze moved seductively over her. She leaned back weakly against the doorframe, disturbed by a strange, quivering sensation in her belly. The room was much too warm, so hot it was hard to think. All she could seem to focus on was the simple realization that she was not, thank God, under arrest.
Yet.
He crooked a finger at her, calling softly to her in a velvety murmur. “I’m waiting, ginger cat. Come here and let me stroke you.”
His invitation jolted her out of his spell with a small gasp of shock. “Good Lord, I’m getting out of here,” she muttered. Spinning away, she marched into the other room on legs that quaked beneath her.
“Only if you can walk through locked doors, I’m afraid,” he called after her in wicked mirth. “Go on, shout as loud as you please. No one is going to help you.”
She banged on the door. “Somebody let me out of here! Help! Let me out of here!” she yelled, jiggling the doorknob for all she was worth. She suddenly remembered her hairpin, which she had used to free Gianni. She pulled it out of her coif, but try as she might, her hands were shaking too badly to pick the lock.
In the other room, she could hear him laughing. “What’s wrong, Daniela?” he called. “Was it that peasant lad that you wanted? My dear girl, why settle for him when you can have me for your protector? Really, have you no feeling for your rank? One takes affront.”
She stopped and turned from the locked door, glaring over her shoulder. Now he would insult Mateo as well as her? That did it.
Leaving her hairpin in the keyhole, she marched back to give him a piece of her mind. “What a high opinion you have of yourself, Your Highness! As it so happens, Mateo is my
friend
, and I neither want nor need a
protector
. What a disgusting idea! It so happens I am quite capable of protecting myself, and believe me,” she shouted because she couldn’t hold back, “you’re not such a prize! Furthermore, you cannot simply go around seducing people whenever it strikes your fancy!”
“Of course I can,” he said idly, swirling his wine in the glass.
“But why did you have to pick me?” she cried.
He smiled broadly and nodded. “Yes, it is a great honor, is it not?”
“One I would prefer you bestowed on someone else!”
He began unbuttoning his waistcoat, laughing at her as he shook his head. “Ah, my little cabbage, how many virgins do you really think are down there?”
“Cabbage!”
“It’s only an expression.”
“I have a name!”
“I’m sure you do. Come drink your wine. You’ll be glad you did. It’s been a while since I’ve had a virgin,” he mused aloud. “What a treat. I was afraid I was going to have to buy one.”
“
Buy one?
Oh, you are despicable!”
He gave her an apprehensive frown, yet there was a twinkle in his eyes that made her wonder if this was all a joke to him. “You’re not going make this difficult, are you?” he asked. “I should hate to have to restrain you. Ah, well.” He opened the drawer of the night table. “There should be some velvet cording in here somewhere….”
Dani suddenly narrowed her eyes as he dug through the drawer and laid a gleaming silver key on the table beside the bed, next to the sweating wine bottle. Aha, he wasn’t very bright after all, to have left it sitting out where she could snatch it. Cabbage, indeed!
Rafael shut the drawer. “Well, it’s not in here. I must have used it on somebody else.”
“Alas,” she retorted, smugly noting that he was too drunk to remember to put the key back where she could not see it. Now all she had to do was get to it. Her path would take her dangerously near him, but having already had difficulty with her hairpin, the key was her best hope.
Holding her elbows behind her back, she swayed nonchalantly toward the bed table. In silence, he watched her edging closer. He looked not at all fooled as to her true intent, but he merely patted his muscled thigh.
“Why don’t you come over here and sit on my lap?” he cajoled her softly.
Her cheeks flooded with heat. “Why?”
His voice was wicked, soft. “I want to tell you a bedtime story.”
“It isn’t bedtime, Prince Rafael,” she said with a slight, unwilling smile.
“Delightful,” he murmured, watching her. “I believe that is the first smile you’ve given me.” The look in his eyes was changing, the color turning dusky green.
When he called to her again, his voice was velvet, nigh impossible to resist. “Come to me, Daniela. We’ll take it very slowly. I promise. It will be wondrous.”
She glanced at him from under her lashes, nearly tempted. “I don’t know….”
“One kiss,” he whispered, and as she held his stare, the playful look faded from his eyes entirely. Leaning forward where he sat on the edge of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers, staring at her. “You’re very beautiful, actually.”
“And you are a silver-tongued liar. It was wicked of you to bring me up here.” Heart racing, she trailed her fingertips over the slightly dusty surface of the nighttable as she came dangerously near him.
“I know. But I wanted to be alone with you.” He watched her with an expression of quiet intensity. “You don’t believe me. Why not?”
With another step, the night table was by her hip, the key close enough to grab. “Well, there is Ms. Sinclair,” she pointed out.
He dropped his head with a vexed groan. “There are always Ms. Sinclairs.”
“Do you love her?”
“That wouldn’t be very smart,” he said flatly.
“You don’t want me, I’m sure. I’m nothing special. Let me leave. Please? You could have anyone else down there….”
He lifted his head and gazed at her for a long moment with a distant, shadowed flickering in his eyes. “You move beautifully, Daniela,” he murmured. “You are as graceful as the wind on the sea, and as shy as a dove, aren’t you?”
She froze, staring at him, inexplicably frightened all of a sudden, but not in a physical sense.
“It’s all right,” he whispered as he stood, holding her gaze.
Her heart was pounding. The key was within reach, but she was frozen like a doe before the hunter as he came to her, touching her shoulder, turning her to him. He drew her gently into his arms and enfolded her in his embrace, brushing his cheek softly against her hair. She closed her eyes in the drugging shock of recognition, for the feel of him against her echoed back from a thousand dreams.
She opened her hand upon the lightweight wool of his lapel, barely daring to touch him, while her mind whirled slowly.
He is holding me. Prince Rafael is holding me.
A dream, of course. She would wake tomorrow and forge on alone again, but for now she drank in the warm strength of his arms around her, the heady scent of his cologne.
She heard the soft sound of his sigh above her as he cradled her in his embrace, and she marveled at how natural, how right it felt to nestle against him this way. She felt his large, warm, gentle hands slowly caress her, up the length of her back from her waist. Then he tilted her chin upward with his fingertips.
Her heart hammered in her chest. Her eyes were wide. Her world tilted as Rafael gazed at her.
“I should like very much to kiss you,” he said quietly.
Her eyes filled with anguished pleading. She tried to shake her head no, but he only nodded yes, reassuring her with a small, exquisitely tender smile.
She despaired, staring miserably at him. Rafael closed his eyes, lowered his head, and kissed her.
The caress of his lips was as soft as the beat of a butterfly’s wings. His mouth was warm and silky atop hers. Her eyes drifted closed and a sigh rose from the depths of her spirit. She felt his lips curve in a smile against her mouth at the shivery sound. He pulled back only slightly.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he whispered.
She made a sound of distress in her throat, refusing to open her eyes, despising him for the longing he had released in her with but one chaste kiss. Then he pulled her more firmly into his arms, sliding one arm around her waist to bring her closer to his body. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as though she were a child, then he kissed her brow, her eyes, her cheek, her ear. She swayed dizzily against him, her chest heaving. He steadied her in his arms, holding her as carefully as though she were made of fine china. Ducking his head, he began kissing the curve of her neck, caressing her throat lightly with his other hand.
It was the most deliciously dizzying sensation she had ever experienced, his lips grazing her skin like moist satin, his heated breath tickling under her ear. She took him into her arms, unable to resist, closing her eyes as she held him to her. She touched his long, golden hair in wonder, slowly stroking its velvety length. His strong, long-fingered hands caressed her back, her arms, her sides. Her skin felt fiery, impossibly sensitive. She was weightless, lost in clouds of bliss, and shaking. His caresses turned hot, urgent.
When he gathered her closer still, a shock of pleasure rushed through her at the contact of their bodies pressing together every inch down the length of them both. She heard her own quivery sigh and his hungry growl in his throat. He gripped her buttocks, pulling her up hotly against him. She cried out softly, a dazed, single note of confusion, desire, and need.
“Ah, God, you are so sweet,” he panted, kissing his way back up to her mouth.
She felt him trembling as he captured her face between his hands and kissed her mouth again and again, coaxing her lips apart. Confused, she yielded tentatively, and then he showed her what kissing really was. His mouth slanted over hers and she felt his tongue meld with hers, stroking, dancing. Surprise burst through her, and pleasure, and then Rafael was ravishing her with a deep, slow kiss that shattered her where she stood clinging weakly to him.
Little remained of her self-control, but with the small ounce of will she still retained, she was appalled at herself. How could she let herself fall under his spell this way? She tried to turn her face away but he gently brought her back with the soft but authoritative pressure of his fingertips upon her jaw.
“Don’t be afraid, sweet,” he said in a ragged whisper, smiling slightly, his breathing deep. “It’s nicer if you kiss me back, you know.”
“I don’t want to,” she said, a breathless lie.
“You don’t?”
“No!”
His soft laugh brimmed with gentle chiding. “Look at me, Daniela.”
She dragged her eyes open mutinously and found him gazing down at her with a faint, tender smile. Though his lips were moist and full with kissing, his eyes were like a green sea, storm-tossed with desire.
“What?” she muttered, nearly sulking.
“Has no one ever kissed you before?” he asked very, very gently.