Fit for a King (23 page)

180

Diana
Palmer

Fit for a
King

181

"The
way we made love that last time, there was
most definitely a risk,"
he said.

She nuzzled her face against
him. "Will you hate
me if that
happens?"

"Never!”

"Babies can create problems."

His arms
tightened. "Babies are little tiny
breathing miracles.
Now shut up and go to sleep. I'm
so tired, it's all I can do to breathe, you
insatiable
little witch."

"I'm insatiable?" she burst out.

He only
grinned and folded her closer. "Go to
sleep. If you're
able, I'll make love to you again when
we wake up."

She sighed. "What a delicious incentive to
sleep."

"I thought so, too."

It seemed
like no time at all before the sounds of
farm equipment
outside the window brought her eyes open. She looked down at King, smiling at
his nudity,
at the
vulnerability of his powerful body in sleep.

"It's morning," she whispered in his ear.

"Is
it?" he whispered back, smiling. He opened
his eyes and reached
for her, his intentions obvious.
"Are you up to this?" he asked
solicitously.

She
pressed down against him. "I want you," she
whispered before
bringing her mouth to his.

He took a
long time with her, despite his overpow
ering hunger, and it was late morning
before he was

satisfied enough to
get up. He stretched grandly and
looked down at her sprawled facedown on the
bed.

"You
miracle, you," he breathed. "Roll over. I
want to look at you
while I dress."

She did,
smiling at him, watching him open draw
ers and the closet
and get into jeans and a chambray
shirt. "It's even exciting to
watch you put clothes
on," she confessed, laughing.

"I'd rather watch you with
yours off, angel," he
murmured,
bending to brash hungry kisses on her
breasts. "I want you all the
time, lately. It's all I can do to stop." He lifted his head, searching
her eyes. "You flinched a little that last time," he said gently.
"It wasn't comfortable, and you should have
told me
in time. I'll leave you alone until you're sure it won't
be an ordeal instead of a pleasure."

"You're very perceptive," she murmured

"You're
very generous," he whispered. "So eager
to please me, to put
my desire first. But that isn't what
I want. It gives me no pleasure unless
you share it"

"Oh,
but I want to give you everything, to make it sweet for you," she said
fervently. "I don't care what I feel—"

He stopped
her tirade with his mouth, smiling
against it. "
I
care. Come on downstairs when
you're
dressed, and I'll take you for a
nice, comfortable ride
in the Lincoln. No horseback riding just
yet." He
grinned, and she flushed.

"Okay."

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Palmer

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King

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He lifted
her hand to his lips, studying her over it.
An innocent, and with
all her inhibitions, and yet
she'd given herself to him with wild abandon. She
cared more than a little; he was almost sure she
loved
him. That thought was sweetly
disturbing. Could she?
He looked at
her hungrily. All night, and still he
wanted
her. She was under his skin, driving him mad.
Bess and his problems with her had faded to insig
nificance. Whatever he and Elissa had, it was
some
thing far removed from lust or
infatuation. He wanted
to take care of her, to be there when she cried.
He
sighed softly. What was he going to do
about Bess?
Or did he need to do
anything, now that he was marrying Elissa? He thought about marrying Elissa
and
smiled slowly. She'd be in his
bed every night, mak
ing magic with
him. His chest began to swell.

She saw that look and smiled at
him. "Don't feel
guilty," she
whispered. "I don't."

"Don't you?" he asked quietly.

"Not
in the least," she said, ignoring her con
science.

"Anyway,
I wasn't thinking about guilt," he con
fessed. "I was
wondering if you loved me," he added bluntly, watching her flush.
"Somehow, I don't think
you'd be able to give yourself to a man you
didn't
love.
You're not the type." He touched her cheek, teasing her face up to his.
"Don't hide it," he whis
pered,
finding the evidence of love in her face wildly pleasing, exciting. His breath
caught in his throat, and

he wondered why it
should suddenly matter so much
that she loved him. "That was why you
were so un
inhibited, wasn't it?" he asked slowly. "That
was
why I gave you pleasure the first time. And you did
enjoy
it."

"More
than you'll ever know," she confessed. "Do you mind?"

He shook his head. "You're very special to me."

"Even
when we aren't lovers anymore," she be
gan, her eyes wide
and worried, "will you still be my
friend?"

That hurt. He sat down and
lifted her across his
knees, cuddling her
close. "My God," he ground out,
his arms wrapped tightly around her. "You little fool.
You
don't have some crazy idea that I was just sat
isfying a whim last night, do you?"

"I hoped it wasn't that."

"I'm
going to marry you," he whispered. "This
isn't a one-night
stand. For God's sake, Elissa, you're
part of me now."

She
trembled a little at the urgency in his voice, at
his warmth and
fervency. She turned her mouth
against his throat and kissed him.
"Thank you," she
said.

"I
don't want thanks." He lifted his head and
looked into her eyes,
his expression both thrilling and
puzzling. His dark gaze went over her
slowly, linger
ing on her breasts. "I'm more old-fashioned than I

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Palmer

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King

185

realized," he
said unexpectedly. "If you ever let an
other man touch you
like I did, I'd break his neck!"

"Well!"
she gasped, but his mouth covered hers fiercely, blotting out the world.

"You're
my woman," he whispered against her
responsive lips.
"You belong to me. We're going to
get married and enjoy
each other for the next eighty
years or so."

Her arms
linked around his neck, and she savored
the pressure of his
mouth for a long, spinning minute
until he finally satisfied his hunger
and lifted his head.

"Get
dressed," he whispered. "I can't take much
more of that without
laying you down and ravishing
you again."

She smiled softly. "I adore you."

"I
adore you," he whispered. He smiled at her,
new to possession,
new to that look in her eyes, that
total fulfillment his loving had
given her. It made him
proud that he could fulfill her, that he'd
done it her
first time.

"You look smug," she mentioned.

He dumped
her onto the bed, looming over her to
press a hard kiss on her mouth.
"I feel smug. Now
get up."

"Yes, your worship."

He glanced
at her on his way out the door and
smiled again as he closed it behind
him. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd felt so pleased

with himself, so
satiated with happiness that he felt as if he could do anything.

She dressed
quickly, taking time to sneak down the
hall to her room and
mess up her bed—only to find
that he'd already done it. She smiled to
herself as she
went downstairs, wrapped in the sweet illusion of lov
ing and
being loved.

He was
sipping coffee when she got to the kitchen, and his eyes when they met hers
were dark with ac
quisition. His chin rose, all male arrogance in the
smile he
gave her. His eyes ran down her body with
remembered
possession, and they kindled like dusky
fires.

She
tingled all over as she joined him, her mouth
softening at his
welcoming kiss.

"Here," he whispered.

She
opened her eyes to find him sliding a solitary emerald onto her ring finger. It
was in a delicate an
tique filigree setting, and a perfect fit.
She caught her
breath, her eyes searching, questioning his.

"It
belonged to my grandmother," he said, his face
solemn. "You can give it to our
eldest son...."

"King." Tears fell
like rain from her eyes. She
went into his
arms, trembling all over. If only she
could
stop wondering if it might be guilt and a sense
of responsibility that had led to this. She knew he didn't love her,
although he was fond of her and he
did
enjoy her body. But maybe in time he might learn
to love her. She clung to him. "I love you so much,"

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Palmer

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King

187

she said shakily, her eyes closed so that
she missed
the delight on his dark face.
"So much."

He held
her, his expression one of contentment,
rocking her softly
against him. God, she was soft. Sweet. Deliciously female. She smelled of
flowers,
and he
wanted to hold her all day. She felt just right in his arms. He smiled, closing
his eyes.

"Now,
ain't that pretty?" Margaret sighed from
the doorway, smiling benevolently at both
of them.

"Look,"
Elissa said tearfully, sitting on King's lap
to extend her slender
finger with the emerald ring on
it

"Glory
be!" Margaret exclaimed. "We really are
having a
wedding!"

"Looks
like it, doesn't it?" King said affection
ately.

"I'll go tell Ben."
Margaret grinned and walked
away.

Elissa
was just starting to speak when the phone
rang.

"I'll
get it," he said as he set her on her feet. He
walked into the hall
and picked up the receiver, lis
tened for a minute and took a sharp breath.
"What
the hell was he doing on it in the first place?" he
demanded. "No,
honey, don't, don't. I'm sorry. God,
I'm
sorry. Listen, sweetheart, you just sit tight, you
hear? I'll be right
there. Everything will be all right.
I'm on
my way."

He hung up and dug into his pocket for his car

keys. "Bobby's been thrown from a
horse," he said
tersely. "Bess
came in last night, and they went riding
together this morning. He's got a concussion and a
broken leg, at least. I'll have to go to the
hospital,
honey. Bess was pretty
upset. She needs me."

Elissa
just sat there, stunned, as he turned away
without another word.
She watched him rush out the door, on his way to Bess, without a backward
glance toward the woman he'd just asked to marry him. She
closed
her eyes, feeling the tears start. If this was a
glimpse of the future, she'd just looked
straight into
hell.

Fit for a King

189

Margaret came back
minutes later to find Elissa cup
ping her hands around a cup of cold coffee, a
look of
utter
defeat on her face.

 
“Where's he
gone?" the older woman asked
curtly.

“Bobby
was thrown from a horse," Elissa said
quickly, looking up. "He's got a
broken leg and a
concussion. King's gone to
the hospital."

Margaret
whistled. "I knew it would happen one
day." She shook
her head. "Bobby isn't a rider, for all he keeps trying. Will he be all
right?"

"Bess didn't say, apparently," she faltered.

The older
woman sat down, staring at Elissa. "That
young madam has too much time on her hands
and
not enough husband," she said
bluntly. "I've known
both them boys for a long time—watched them fuss

and fight and grow
into men. Bobby's too eaten up
trying to compete with his half brother to be
the man
he could
be. All business, even when he comes to
dinner
over here. Bess sits there watching him so
sadly, and he doesn't see her at all. I understand why
he's doing it, mind you, but Bess isn't the kind
of
woman a man should treat that way.
God knows she
had a hard enough life,
what with her family."

Margaret
was good for half an hour on that subject.
By the time she got
through the alcoholic father and
eternally pregnant mother and the abject
poverty Bess had grown up in, Elissa felt sorrier for the blonde than
she'd ever dreamed she could.
But King had gone running when Bess needed him, and that fact stood
out above all the rest. Was he simply sorry for
Bess
and protective of her, or was it
something more?

"You
don't mind that he went to see about
Bobby?" Margaret asked suddenly.

"Oh,
heavens, no!" Elissa said. "I would have
gone, too, if he'd
asked me." She shrugged, biting
back tears. "I guess he was
thinking that Bess would
need some support."

Margaret's
eyes narrowed. "Bess loves Bobby,"
she said quietly.
"Sometimes she may flirt with other
men, but that's all
it ever is. And Kingston asked you
to marry him, didn't he?"

"Yes,
but that was because we—" Elissa looked
up wildly and bit her
lip. Her face grew suddenly hot
as Margaret pursed her lips and lifted an
eyebrow.