The Playboy Prince (10 page)

There could be no release now, and no yearning.

Hannah knew everyone would look wonderful for Eve’s dinner party. An affair at the palace was meant to be elegant, even extravagant. Hannah had no doubt every woman who attended would strive to live up to the occasion. Every woman, of course, except her.

She’d already seen Eve’s glittery black dress with its swirls of material from waist to ankle and its daring draping back, Gabriella would no doubt wear something delicate that would accent her fragile, feminine looks.

Then there was Chantel O’ Hurley. Hannah was certain the actress would be stunning whether she chose silk or sackcloth. Remembering how Bennett had looked at her as he’d started down the stairs in the Center took no effort at all.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

It mattered too much.

Lecturing herself, Hannah chose the best of the worst in a pale lavender gown with a fussy bodice that played down her curves. With her hair unpinned, it gave her the look of a wanton puritan. An image, she knew, that wouldn’t go unnoticed. With only the smallest of sighs, she drew her hair back to begin the laborious job of braiding it into submission.

When it was neatly coiled at her neck, Hannah was satisfied that all traces of sexuality were tamed. She looked presentable, perfectly proper and sexless.

There could be no regrets, Hannah told herself as she slipped her pistol into her evening bag. Duty came above personal desire, and certainly far ahead of vanity.

*   *   *

He’d been waiting for her. The guests were being entertained in the Salle des Miroirs where they were served aperitifs by short-coated waiters. Both the cast and the crew of Eve’s production had been invited so that conversation was a babble of noise underlaid with excitement.

Though impatient and distracted, Bennett performed his duty without a ripple. There were always polite questions to be asked, a hand to kiss and a joke to laugh at. Under usual circumstances, the party would have amused and entertained him, but . . .

Where was she? He found himself straining against the evening clothes he usually wore without a thought. All around him women glittered. Their scents mingled and mixed into one exotic fragrance that did nothing to tempt him. He wanted a moment alone with Hannah. He hadn’t the least idea why it was so important, but he wanted it desperately.

He kept one eye on the doorway while he spoke with the wardrobe mistress. His gaze paused briefly on the ormolu clock while he listened to the director expound on the potential of Eve’s play.

“Looking for me?” The sultry voice sounded in his ear just ahead of a cloud of scent.

“Chantel.” Bennett kissed both her cheeks before drawing her back for a survey. “Stunning, as always.”

“I do what I’m best at.” Smiling, she accepted a glass from a passing waiter. Shimmering white left her shoulders bare, then dipped low enough to be tantalizing before it closely followed the subtle, feminine curves. “Your home is everything it’s rumored to be.” She lifted the wine to her lips as her gaze passed over the dozens of antique mirrors that graced the walls. “And how clever of you to choose such a room to entertain a group of
narcissistic actors.”

“We have our moments.” He looked beyond her for a moment, but still saw no sign of Hannah. “I saw your last movie. You were extraordinary.”

A woman who was accustomed to absorbing all of a man’s attention knew instinctively when she had only a part of it. Still, Chantel only smiled and speculated. “I’m still waiting for you to come back to Hollywood.”

“You seem to be keeping busy in the meantime.” He reached in his pocket for a box of matches to light her cigarette. “How do you manage to divide your time among tennis stars, oilmen and producers?”

Chantel tilted her head as she blew out a thin stream of smoke. “Oh, much the same way I imagine you divide yours among countesses, marchesas and—was it a barmaid in Chelsea?”

Laughing, Bennett dropped the matches back in his pocket. “
Ma chère amie
, if either of us enjoyed all the incredible and innumerable affairs the press gifts us with, we’d be hospitalized.”

With the true affection she felt for few men, Chantel touched a hand to his cheek. “To anyone else, I’d say speak for yourself. However, since we’ve never been lovers, regardless of the headlines to the contrary, I’ll ask you how things are for you, romantically speaking.”

“Confusing.” At that moment, in the oval glass over Chantel’s shoulder, he saw Hannah slip into the room. She looked like a dove lost in a group of peacocks. “Very confusing. Excuse me a moment, will you, love?”

“Of course.” She’d seen which direction his attention had taken. “
Bonne chance
, Bennett.”

A lifetime of experience allowed him to slip through the groups of people, exchanging a quick word, a smile or a murmured excuse without leaving any offense behind. Less than a minute after Hannah had settled into a corner, he was beside her.

“
Bonsoir
, Lady Hannah.”

“Your Highness.” She used his title and curtsied as protocol demanded. He caught her hands as she straightened, negating the formality.

“It’s usual, when a woman is late, that she makes an entrance rather than slip into a corner.”

Damn him for making her pulse skittish. Even as she tried to calm it again, she noted that more than one
head was turned in their direction. So much for going unnoticed. “I prefer watching to being watched, sir.”

“I prefer watching you.” He signaled a waiter, then took a glass from the tray for her himself. “You move well, Hannah, as though you wouldn’t make a sound in an empty room.”

That had as much to do with her training in tae kwon do as her childhood lessons in ballet. “I was raised not to make disturbances.” She accepted the glass because it freed one of her hands. “Thank you. This is a lovely room.” She said it casually, as casual as the glance she sent sweeping over the guests. Her reflection was thrown back at her a dozen times. Hers, and Bennett’s, close together.

“I’ve always been partial to it.” Now that she was here, he was content. He’d almost heard the click of things falling into their proper place when he’d taken her hand in his. “As it happens it was another Bennett, some generations back, who started the collection. It seems he was miserably vain without much cause and continued to buy mirrors in hopes one would tell him a different story.”

She had to laugh. For a moment she felt almost as though she belonged there with the gowns and the glass and the glamour. “I’d say you made that up, but it sounds foolish enough to be true.”

“You have the most alluring laugh,” he murmured. “It’s a laugh that reminds me how you look with your hair down and your eyes dark.”

She couldn’t allow this. Hannah told herself she was foolish to be moved when she knew how clever he was with women. She was more foolish to be caught off guard when she knew what a dangerous game was being played. This time her voice was cool and formal.

“Shouldn’t you see to your guests?”

“I have been.” He passed his thumb gently over her knuckles. It was a small gesture and an intimate one that made her wish once again she could have been lovely for him. That she could, very simply, have been for him. “While I was waiting for you.” He stepped closer. Because she was already wedged into a corner, there was no place to go. “You smell wonderful.”

“Bennett, please.” She almost lifted a hand to his chest before she remembered eyes were on them. In defense she lifted her glass instead.

“Hannah, I can’t tell you how it pleases me to see you become unnerved. The only time you become at all unsure of yourself is when I’m just a bit too close.”

It was true, and a bitter pill to swallow for a woman who survived by being sure of herself. “People are watching.”

“Then walk in the gardens with me later, when we can be alone.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Are you afraid I’d seduce you?”

There was both amusement and arrogance in his tone, but when Hannah looked back at him, she saw desire as well. She sipped again to moisten a throat that had gone bone-dry. “Not afraid. Uncomfortable seems a better word.”

“It would give me great pleasure to make you uncomfortable, Hannah.” His voice was low, a caress to accompany the brush of his lips over her knuckles. “I want to make love with you in some dark, quiet place. Very slowly and very gently.”

The need sprinted inside of her until she had to fight off a shudder of anticipation. It could be like that, with him, it could be. If only . . .

There could be no “ifs” in her life. They meant uncertainty and uncertainty was lethal. Hannah, pulling herself steady by nerve ends, looked at him. He meant it. There was desire in his eyes—but more a kindness, a sweetness that was almost her undoing. She could marvel at the fact that he felt something real for her, that somehow, he’d looked beyond the surface and cared.

She could want it, but she couldn’t accept it. There was only one way to stop what should never have started. She had to hurt him, and she had to do it now.

“I’m sure I should be flattered.” Her voice was cool and calm again. “But if you’ll forgive me, sir, I’m aware that your tastes are not very selective.”

He stiffened his fingers on hers before he released her hand. She saw by his eyes that the arrow had hit its mark. “I’d appreciate an explanation for that, Hannah.”

“The explanation seems obvious. Please let me pass, you’ll cause a scene.”

“I’ve caused one before.” There was something new in his voice now. It was anger, certainly, but a reckless, heedless anger. Hannah knew that if she didn’t play her game exactly right now, she’d find her name splashed in headlines for battling with Bennett in public.

“Very well.” Setting her glass down on a nearby table, she folded her hands in her usual fashion. “I’m a woman, and therefore of some passing interest. To be blunt, the interest isn’t returned.”

“That’s a lie.”

“No.” Firmer now, she cut him off. “Though it might be difficult for a man like you to understand, I’m a simple woman with simple values. As you told me yourself, your reputation precedes you.” She paused just long enough to see him wince.

Oh, Bennett, I’m sorry. So sorry.

“I didn’t come to Cordina to amuse you,” she murmured as she took a step to the side.

He suddenly lifted his hand to stop her, and she waited. “You don’t amuse me, Hannah.”

“Then I must beg your pardon.” Knowing it would be more insult than courtesy, she dipped into a curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me now, sir, I’d like to speak with Eve.”

He held her another moment. Hannah could feel his fury sear through his fingertips and burn her flesh. Then, in an instant, there was ice. “I won’t keep you. Enjoy the evening.”

“Thank you.”

Despising herself, Hannah moved into the crowd. The lights were so brilliant, she told herself. That was why her eyes hurt.

“Lady Hannah, good evening.” Reeve stepped beside her and took her arm. “Would you care for some wine?”

“Yes, thank you.” Falling into step beside him, she accepted the glass he held out.

“Have you seen this collection of mirrors? I’ve always found these three particularly impressive. Are you all right?” he added in an undertone.

“Yes, they are lovely. I’m fine.”

He cupped his hand around the end of a cigarette, glancing around casually to be certain no one was within earshot. “It looked as though you were having some trouble with Bennett.”

“He’s persistent.” She sipped her wine, amazed that her nerves had yet to calm. “Surely this is eighteenth-century.”

“Hannah.” He pointed out another glass as they walked, but his voice softened. “I worked with your father when I first got my feet wet with the ISS. That makes me feel almost like family. Are you all right?”

“I will be.” She drew a deep breath and smiled as if he’d said something amusing. “I caused him pain just now. I didn’t enjoy it.”

Reeve brushed a hand over hers in the most casual of gestures. The touch was as reassuring as a hug. “It’s rare to get through an assignment without hurting someone.”

“Yes, I know—the end justifies the means. Don’t worry, I’ll do my job.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“It would help a great deal if you’d see that Bennett was kept busy over the next week or so. Things should be coming to a head and I don’t need him . . .”

“Distracting you?”

“Interfering,” Hannah corrected. She glanced in one of the mirrors and saw him across the room with Chantel. “Though I may very well have taken care of that myself. Excuse me.”

*   *   *

He drove the horse hard, but still didn’t find the level of release he’d been seeking. Swearing, Bennett plunged down the winding path, but neither joy nor excitement rode with him. Fury left little room.

He ached for her. He damned her to the devil and still ached for her. In the days that had passed since she’d turned him aside, the wanting hadn’t eased. Now it was coated with self-derision and anger, but it hadn’t eased.

He told himself she was a cold, insensitive prude with no generosity or heart. He saw her as she had been on the beach, with a shell in her hand, her eyes rich with laughter as the wind pulled pins from her hair.

He told himself she was hard as stone and just as unfeeling. Then he remembered how soft, how sweet her lips had been when his own had tasted them.

So he cursed her and rode harder.

The skies threatened rain, but he ignored them. It was the first time in days he’d been able to get away from obligations long enough to take Dracula out for more than cursory exercise. The wind whistled in off the sea and set waves dancing high.

He wanted the storm. By God, he wanted the wind and the rain and the thunder.

He wanted Hannah.

Imbécile!
Only a fool wanted a woman when there was nothing returned. Only a madman thought of ways to have what had already been denied. He’d told himself all this before, but still he caught himself dreaming of ways he could gather her up and take her somewhere until he found the right way to show her. . . . Show her what? Bennett asked himself. Show her that it was different with her?