Prince of Scandal (4 page)

Her thoughts froze as the Frenchwoman looked at something over Luisa’s shoulder then sank into a curtsey.

‘Ah, Luisa, Mademoiselle. You’ve finished?’ The deep voice curled across her senses like smoke on the air. She reminded herself it was distaste that made her shiver.

‘Yes. We’ve finished.’ Stiffening her spine, she turned.

Clear afternoon light spilled across the parquet floor and highlighted Raul where he stood just inside the doorway. Once again his splendour hit her full force. Not just the elegance of hand-stitched shoes and a beautifully crafted suit that clung to his broad shoulders. The impact of his strong personality was stamped on his austere features.

Even knowing his ruthlessness, it was hard not to gawk in appreciation. Luisa saw the stylist surreptitiously primping.

Annoyance sizzled. It wasn’t just her. He had this effect on other women.

‘I like your new look.’ Raul’s sudden smile was like warm honey. The flare of appreciation in his eyes even looked genuine. She told herself she didn’t care.

‘Thank you.’ Her tone was stiff.

Yet Luisa’s pulse raced. She put it down to dislike. How dared he come here with his gracious smile and his fluent French, charming her companion as if he were a kind benefactor!

Finally, after a long exchange of compliments, the stylist headed to the door. Luisa followed.

She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. A firm hand grasped her elbow as she walked past Raul.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out.’ She looked pointedly at his restraining hand.

‘That’s impossible. You have another appointment.’

The simmering fury she’d battled for days spiked.

‘Really? How strange. I don’t recall making any appointment.’ She raised her head, meeting his regard head-on. Letting her anger show.

Ever since she’d consented to go with him it had been the same. Exquisite politeness from him and deference from his staff. Yet every decision had been made for her.

At first she’d been in a state of shock, too stunned to do more than be swept along by the force of Raul’s will. But her indignation had grown with each hour. Especially when she’d been told, not asked about appointments with the beautician, the pedicurist, the manicurist, the hair stylist, the couturier …

As if she were an animated doll, not a woman with a brain of her own.

His hand dropped.

‘You’re upset.’

‘You noticed!’ She drew a slow breath, fighting for control. She was rigid with outrage and self-disgust.

Luisa had spent enough time battling bullies. From her despotic grandfather to big banks eager for immediate returns. To this man who’d taken over her life.

She should have been able to stand up to him!

She’d never felt so helpless.

That scared her more than anything. And provoked her fighting spirit. She’d had enough!

‘You’re tired after the long journey.’ Did his voice soften? Surely not.

She hadn’t slept a wink, even in the luxurious bed assigned to her on the long haul flight to Europe. Yet fatigue was the least of her worries.

‘I’m tired of you managing my life. Just because I gave in to blackmail doesn’t mean I’ve relinquished the ability to think. I’m not a doormat.’

‘No one would presume—’

‘You
presume all the time!’ Luisa jabbed a finger into his broad chest then backed up a step, resolving to keep her distance. She didn’t like the tiny pinprick of heat tickling her skin where she’d touched him. It was there too whenever he took her arm, helping her from a plane or car.

‘You haven’t once
asked!
’ She spread her hands. ‘Your staff simply tell me what you’ve decided.’

His hooded eyes gave nothing away, but the sharp angle of his jaw told her she’d hit home. Good! The idea of getting under this man’s skin appealed. It was about time he found out what it felt like not to get his own way.

‘Royalty works on a strict timetable.’

‘And dairy farms don’t?’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘After you’ve spent your life getting up before dawn for
early milking,
then
talk to me about managing my time!’

‘It’s hardly the same thing.’

‘No, it’s not.’ She kept her voice calm with an effort. ‘My life might not have been exciting but it was about honest hard work. A real job, doing something useful. Not—’ she gestured to the exquisitely decorated salon and the man who stood so haughtily before her ‘—not empty gloss and privilege.’

A dull flush of colour streaked across Raul’s razor-sharp cheekbones. Deep grooves bracketed the firm line of his mouth and his long fingers flexed and curled. Energy radiated from him, a latent power so tangible she had to force herself to stand her ground.

‘You’ll find royal life isn’t a sinecure.’ His words were glacial shards, grazing her overheated cheeks. ‘Running a country is a demanding full-time job.’

Luisa refused to be cowed. Nothing excused his treatment of her. That had to change. Now.

‘Under extreme duress I agreed to go to your country and accept my inheritance. That doesn’t give you carte blanche to run my life.’

‘Where were you going?’ His question surprised her.

She glanced at the full length windows with their view of a wide, elegant boulevard and a distant park.

‘I’ve never been to Paris.’ She’d never travelled. Except to her grandfather’s home and to Sydney when her mum visited specialists. Neither had been pleasant experiences. ‘I want to explore.’

‘You haven’t time. Your new clothes are here and you need to be fitted. It’s important you look like a princess when you step off the plane in Maritz.’

‘In case I don’t photograph well for the press?’ She almost laughed at the idea of being media-worthy, but the way his face shuttered instantly at her mention of the press distracted her.

‘It’s for your sake as well, Luisa. Imagine arriving in the full blare of public interest, dressed as you are.’

Was that a hint of sympathy in his expression, or did she imagine it?

‘There’s nothing wrong with my clothes! They’re …’

Cheap and comfortable and a little shabby. It wasn’t that she didn’t want beautiful clothes. It was the idea of pretending to be someone she wasn’t, as if the real Luisa wasn’t worth knowing. Yet a tiny voice inside admitted she didn’t want to face a nation’s press as she was.

She didn’t want to face the press at all!

‘Clothes are like armour.’ His voice held a note of understanding that surprised her. ‘You’ll feel more comfortable in clothes that make you look good.’

Did he speak from personal experience? Seeing the proud tilt of his head, Luisa guessed Raul could walk naked before a crowd and not lose one ounce of his regal attitude.

Her breath hitched on the idea of Raul naked. With those long, powerful thighs and that rangy powerful torso.

With an effort she dragged her mind back on track.

‘I don’t need permission to go out.’ She kept her voice low and even but her chin crept up. ‘I don’t answer to you and I
do
intend to see some of the city.’

She wouldn’t let him dictate to her any more.

‘Then what if I take you out myself, tonight?’ Luisa blinked in astonishment. ‘I have appointments for the rest of the day but after dinner, if you like, I’ll show you some of the sights of Paris.’ He paused for a long moment, his mouth easing into what could almost pass for a smile. ‘Would that suit?’

Blankly Luisa stared. A compromise? That must have cost him!

Instantly suspicion grew that he was up to something. Yet the idea of escaping this gorgeous, claustrophobic house was irresistible.

‘Agreed.’

Six hours later Luisa stood against the railing of a river cruiser, straining forward as each new sight came into view. From the Ile de la Cité with Notre Dame’s flying buttresses illuminated like spread wings against the darkness, to the Pont Neuf and the glittering Eiffel Tower. Paris slid around them,
gorgeous and outrageously seductive. Yet still the tension twisted through her.

She and Raul were the only passengers.

Another reminder of what his wealth could buy.

Like her clothes. Stylish black wool trousers and a chic winter-weight cream tunic. Boots and a long coat of leather so soft she had to force herself not to keep smoothing her hands over it. A designer silk scarf in indigo and burnt orange that brought colour to her cheeks.

Except her cheeks burned anyway, remembering the designer’s whispered asides to his assistant about Luisa’s shape, size, posture and walk. Her posture was good, apparently, but her walk! A stride, like a man’s. And she had no notion how to carry off a dress. None!

Yet, despite being an apparently insurmountable challenge, she’d been transformed.

Not that Raul had noticed. He’d escorted her to the car with barely a word. Luisa’s bruised pride had been lacerated that he hadn’t commented on her appearance. Clearly it was a matter of the utmost indifference to him.

And this the man who’d spoken of marriage!

She drew a slow breath. Once in Maritz she’d consult local lawyers. There must be a way out of the wedding contract. Fear scudded through her at the idea of marrying—

‘You’re enjoying yourself?’ In the darkness she saw movement as Raul stood beside her. A trickle of heat warmed her belly and she swallowed hard. She hated the way her traitorous body responded yet she couldn’t douse her excitement. Even in her teens, bowled over by what she thought was love, she hadn’t felt this way.

‘The city is beautiful. Thank you for the cruise.’

‘So you admit there are benefits to our arrangement?’

His satisfied smile set her teeth on edge. He took credit for the beauty of the city, forgetting the blackmail that had forced her hand! It was a relief to let her frustration and indignation surge to the surface.

‘They don’t outweigh the negatives.’

He made an abrupt movement with one hand, a rare sign of impatience that surprised her. Usually he was so calm. ‘You refuse to be pleased, no matter what you are offered.’

‘I don’t recall any
offer.
That implies choice.’

‘You would rather be with your precious cows instead of here?’ His wide gesture encompassed the magical vista. ‘I give you the chance to be
queen.’

‘By
marrying
you!’ She backed a step. ‘I’ll go with you to Maritz, but as for marriage …’ Luisa shook her head.

The sharp glimmer of his stare triggered her innermost anxieties, releasing a tumble of words. ‘You can’t give me anything I truly desire!’

Years before a man had tried to take her, not out of passion, but calculating ambition. It had left her feeling unclean. That was when she’d decided she’d never settle for anything less than love.

‘I want to marry a man who makes my heart race and my blood sing—’

Strong hands closed on her upper arms and she gaped up at the starkly sculpted face suddenly so close. A passing light played over him. Far from being coolly remote, heat ignited in Raul’s eyes. His expression sent adrenalin surging.

His head lowered and his warm breath feathered her face.

‘Like this, you mean?’

R
AUL’S
mouth claimed Luisa’s, pressing, demanding, till on a gasp her lips parted and he took possession.

Too late he realised his mistake.

The spark of indignation and guilt that had urged him to silence her grievances flared higher. Hotter. Brighter. He tasted her and heat shimmered, molten in his blood. He delved into her sweet, lush mouth and discovered something unexpected.

Something unique.

He slanted his mouth, demanding better access. Needing more. A ripple of stunned pleasure reverberated through him. He’d suspected almost from the start that there was something unique about Luisa. But this …!

His tongue slicked across hers, laved and slid and explored and there it was again.

An excitement, an anticipation he hadn’t felt since he was a green boy.

Still it persisted. The feeling this was
different.

He tugged her satisfyingly close between his wide-planted legs. His other hand slid up into the thick silken mass of bright hair that had caught his eye as he’d walked into the salon this afternoon. He’d wanted to touch it ever since.

It felt even better than it looked, soft as seduction.

The fire dropped to his belly, kindling like a coiling Catherine wheel that jetted sparks in all directions.

Tension screwed unbearably tight as her hand fluttered at his throat, a barely there touch that weakened his knees. When
she slid both arms over his shoulders to clasp his neck a great shudder rocked him.

How could a kiss ravage his senses?

Trying to staunch the feeling that he spun out of control, Raul moved his lips to the corner of her mouth but she turned her head. Instead of an almost chaste caress, he found himself transfixed as her lips opened beneath his. Her body pressed close and her tongue slipped into his mouth in a move that he’d have called tentative if it hadn’t sent every blood cell in his body rushing south.

Her kiss was slow and deliberate. Unbelievably provocative as she treated him to a devastating sensual exploration that almost blew the top off his head. Shivers of delight coursed through him.

Once or twice she hesitated as if unsure how to proceed. But the feel of her tongue mating with his in slow, lush pleasure soon obliterated such crazy notions.

Raul slid a hand under her long coat, over the tight curve of her bottom. His splayed fingers dragged her close, where that flicker of heat was now a blazing furnace. He tilted his pelvis and felt her welcoming feminine softness. Lust shot through him.

He swallowed her gasp, returning her kiss with growing fervour. Every nerve was sharp and aware, as if it had been an age since he’d held a woman.

Luisa tasted like sunshine, felt warm and soft and luscious like a summer peach.

Heat spiked in his groin and a hard weight surged there. The audacious notion rose that here, now, they should let passion take its inevitable course. He’d never felt such an unravelling of control.

Dimly he registered astonishment as desire blasted him. He met her kisses hungrily, her soft little whimper of pleasure driving him on even as he tried to slow down.

Luisa, with her sweet sensuality and her delicious hesitation, piqued an appetite jaded by over-eager women.

Brightness spilled over them, a wash of cold sanity.

Raul blinked in the light from an overhead bridge. He raised his head but his hands were still on her, their lower bodies welded together, even as they passed a group of sightseers peering down at the Seine.

Even now hunger gripped him.

Hell!

What was he doing, giving free rein to passion in public? It was unheard of! Raul kept his sex life scrupulously private after the nightmare scandal eight years ago. He’d worked tirelessly since to shore up his people’s belief in and respect for the monarchy.

Yet he couldn’t drag his eyes from Luisa, couldn’t force himself to step away.

Her lips were parted. Her dark eyelashes fanned, concealing her eyes. She looked wantonly inviting and the heat in his groin intensified. His hold tightened.

Could this be the same woman he’d once thought unfeminine? She was beautiful.

Yet more was at work here than a no-expenses-spared makeover. Even if the result surpassed his expectations.

He met lovely women all the time. But none made him feel like this.

The women in his life were easy company, a pleasure to look at. They satisfied his need for sex. He treated them well and they were eager to please. Simple. Uncomplicated.

Yet with Luisa he didn’t merely respond to a pretty woman. Her fire, her determination, her strength made her unique. He
felt
as well as desired.

She stirred against him and a bolt of erotic energy speared him.

No! He imagined things. This desire was so intense because he’d allowed her to provoke anger.

He avoided dwelling on the fact that in itself was unusual. He’d learnt years before to channel all his energies into his work. Emotion had led him to the brink of disaster. The eventual fallout of that error had destroyed his family and threatened
the state. Now he knew better. He controlled his world. Never again would he be a hostage to sentiment.

Luisa’s eyes flickered open and a jewel-bright stare skewered him. His heart thudded out of kilter as his rationalisations crumbled.

Abruptly he released her and stepped away.

What had she done?

Heat blasted Luisa and she swayed, legs wobbling, as unfamiliar sensations cascaded through her.

She couldn’t—surely she couldn’t have kissed the man who’d
blackmailed
her into doing his bidding?

Surely she hadn’t …
enjoyed
it?

Cool air chilled her face and crept in the open front of her jacket. Yet she burned up, her cheeks fiery. Heat seared through her stomach and down to the terrible hollow throb between her legs.

Inwardly she cringed. So much for defiance. And for self-respect. What had happened to the reserve that had kept her impervious to the masculine sex for so long? The wariness borne of disillusionment and hurt?

Raul had hauled her into his embrace, kissed her and her brain had shorted. She’d gone from indignation to helpless need, craving each demanding caress.

How could she have responded to a man she surely hated?

And to have revealed her inexperience to him! No way could her shaming enthusiasm have made up for her lack of expertise. He knew now just how naïve she was. How he must be smirking. The country bumpkin, easy to twist around his little finger. Show her a taste of what she’d never had and she’d be eating out of his hand.

Sickening echoes of the past filled her brain. Hadn’t she learned? How could she be susceptible again? Self-disgust was bitter on her tongue.

Reluctantly she opened her eyes.

Instantly he moved away, his brows drawing down in a ferocious scowl as if he couldn’t believe he’d touched her.

Pain speared her. No doubt she didn’t measure up to his exacting royal standards. Déjà vu swamped her, recalling the scathing revelations of her long-ago suitor.

‘I don’t want you touching me.’ Her voice was raw, husky with distress.

Raul loomed taller, his frown morphing in an instant to a look of cool composure.

‘That wasn’t the impression you gave a moment ago.’ He tugged at his shirt, straightened his jacket, and Luisa felt about an inch tall, realising she’d pulled his clothing askew.

‘I didn’t invite you to maul me.’ Conveniently she ignored the way she’d given herself up to his kiss. Even now she held onto the railing to stay upright. He turned her bones to water.

In the dimming light as the boat slid away from the bridge, it looked like colour rose in his cheeks. But that had to be her imagination. His expression grew haughty and his eyes glittered.

‘My apologies. You can be sure I don’t make a habit of
forcing my attentions
where they’re not wanted.’

Raul drew himself up like a guard on parade. Then with a flourish of one elegant hand he bowed formally. ‘I’ll leave you to your contemplation of the view.’

He turned and strode to the wheelhouse. He looked utterly calm, as if their passion had been a figment of her imagination. As if he’d felt nothing.

Surely not! He’d been as hungry for her as she’d been for him.

Or had he? She bit her lip, all too aware she had next to no experience to draw upon and that her judgement of men was flawed. Years ago she’d been dumbfounded when her ardent suitor finally revealed his true self when thwarted. His disdainful dismissal of her attractiveness and lack of sophistication was still vivid.

The possibility that Raul too had feigned desire made her want to sink through the deck.

Why should he do it?

The answer came too readily. To reduce her to starry-eyed compliance.

Luisa sagged against the railing.

It had worked. When he kissed her all her doubts and anger fled. She was putty in his hands. His kisses had been white-hot lightning, blowing her mind and leaving her body humming with a desperate craving.

She stared at his tall form as he disappeared into the darkness. Vivid as her recall was of that near seduction years ago, Luisa couldn’t remember kisses as devastating as this. Was her memory faulty? Or had years focused on work and family, shying from any tentative male interest, made her more susceptible?

The trembling in her knees grew to a quaking that shook her whole body.

Her impossible position had just become impossibly complicated.

Raul thrust aside a surge of regret as Luisa emerged from her suite. It was unfortunate he’d had to force her hand. Her vulnerability and her desperate pride struck a chord with him. And her passion—

No! Last night was over. A passing weakness.

He was in control now. Impossible that his feelings were engaged by the woman at the top of the staircase. He didn’t do feelings. Not any more. One disastrous mistake had cured him.

Though in her chic honey-gold trouser suit and black silk shirt, Luisa was eye-catching. The suit skimmed ripe curves he’d held just hours ago. His fingers flexed at the memories, still vivid after a night of no rest.

She cast a flickering half glance in his direction and chewed on her glossy lower lip.

A ripple of something urgent disturbed his inner calm.

Stoically he ignored it, focusing an appraising eye on how she descended the grand staircase. She gripped the banister tight, clearly unsure of herself in high heels.

As he’d suspected. She’d need help when they arrived in Maritz in a few hours. He didn’t want her falling down the steps from the plane and breaking her neck.

His gaze lingered on the long line of her throat. She had a natural elegance her farm clothes had camouflaged. His hands tingled as he recalled the feel of her soft skin, the temptation of her lips, the way her eyes flashed when she challenged him.

Her gaze snared his and his pulse slowed to a weighted thud.

Raul frowned. It was one thing to feel desire with a warm woman pressed intimately against him in the night. Quite another to experience it here, with his butler waiting to usher them on their way to the airport.

Worse, this felt more complex than lust. In a couple of short days she’d somehow got into his head.

Instantly he rejected the idea. It was simple desire he experienced.

‘Luisa. I hope you slept well.’

He walked forward as she reached the bottom step. She stumbled and his hand shot out to steady her, but she jerked her arm away, hurrying past him, heels clicking on inlaid marble.

Raul drew a sharp breath. After a lifetime fending off eager women he discovered he didn’t like this alternative.

He recalled how she’d clung so needily last night and assured himself her response was contrived. Women were devious. Was it any wonder he kept relationships simple?

What sort of relationship would he have with his wife?

‘Yes, thank you. I slept well enough.’

Liar! Despite the make-up accentuating the smoky blue of her eyes, Raul saw signs of fatigue.

‘And you?’ To his surprise challenge sizzled in her gaze, as if she knew he’d spent most of the night wakeful, reliving
those few moments when she’d melted into him like a born seductress.

Even now he wasn’t sure about her. There’d been more than a hint of the innocent about her last night.

But then feigned innocence could be such an effective weapon. As he knew to his cost. A spike of chill air stabbed the back of his neck.

‘I always sleep well in Paris.’ He offered his arm again, this time holding her gaze till she complied.

He covered her hand with his, securing it possessively. The sooner she grew accustomed to him the better. ‘And now, if you’re ready, our plane is waiting.’

He felt the shiver race through her. Saw her eyes widen in what looked like anxiety.

There was nothing to fear. Most women would sell their soul to be in her place, offered wealth, prestige and marriage to a man the press insisted on labelling one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. But already he began to see Luisa wasn’t most women.

He heard himself saying, ‘I’ll look after you, Luisa. There’s no need to be anxious.’

It was on the way to the airport that Raul discovered the cost of his unguarded actions last night. The discreet buzz of his mobile phone and a short conversation with Lukas, already waiting for them at the airport, had him excusing himself and opening his laptop.

Not that Luisa noticed. She was busy pressing her nose to the glass as they drove through Paris.

He focused on his computer, scrolling through page after page of newspaper reports. The sort of reports he habitually ignored: ‘PRINCE’S SECRET LOVER.’ ‘RAUL’S PARISIAN INTERLUDE.’ ‘SIZZLING SEDUCTION ON THE SEINE.’

There wasn’t much to the articles apart from speculation as to his new lover’s identity. Yet acid curdled his stomach and
clammy heat rose as he flicked from one photo of last night’s kiss to another.

He frowned, perplexed by his reaction.

It wasn’t the first time the paparazzi had snapped photos of him with a woman. He was a favourite subject. Typically the press was more interested in his mistresses than his modernisation plans or regional disarmament talks. Usually he shrugged off their reports.