CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
M EL STEPPED OUT onto the pool terrace. The sea breeze flattened her simple summer dress against her body, tantalising all the places still buzzing from the morning’s lovemaking.
She shivered even though the temperature was warm. The outdoor dining table had been set with fine china and crystal stemwear for two, the surrounding trees and scrub lit by sparkling fairy lights. The scent of salt and tropical blooms and the soft lapping of the sea below completed the scene, making it magical and impossibly romantic.
But it wasn’t until she spotted Rene standing in the shadows with his back to her, staring at the beach below, that she could release the breath which felt as if it had been clogged in her lungs all day.
He was here. Just as he’d promised.
He looked typically gorgeous, his tall, broad-shouldered physique imposing in the loose linen shirt and faded jeans.
‘Rene, you came,’ she said, then felt foolish when he swung round.
‘Of course. I said I would,’ he murmured.
But then he swept his hair back from his forehead—and she wondered if he could be as nervous as she was.
He hadn’t shaved since that morning, but somehow the rugged look suited him as he crossed the terrace towards her. The lights draped in the Ginger Thomas tree sparkled in his dark eyes as his gaze swept over her figure.
The butterflies in her belly dive-bombed into her abdomen.
Why hadn’t she brought a more suitable dress with her? Something stylish and sophisticated. She’d packed so quickly—and she and Rene had never done romance in their relationship—so it hadn’t even occurred to her to include a dress in her luggage appropriate for what suddenly felt like their first ever date.
But then she didn’t really have anything appropriate in Androvia either. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, aware that the pant suits and fitted blouses and skirts she wore in her role as Isabelle’s assistant were no more seductive than the summer frock she had on.
The truth was she didn’t have anything in her wardrobe which would put her on equal terms with a prince.
Inferiority complex much?
‘Melody,’ he said softly, then brushed his knuckle across her cheek. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ She blinked, touched by the concern in his gaze.
How come she had never noticed how perceptive he was, how easily he had always been able to read her—while she had felt shut out from his moods, his emotions.
Don’t panic, that’s what this evening is supposed to solve, Mel.
She forced herself to smile, trying to recapture the bolshy woman who had always been able to hold her own, instead of the fascinated—and far too easily swayed—girl.
‘I guess it feels odd for us to be together and not arguing,’ she said.
His brows lifted, but then he laughed. The husky sound and the approval in his expression made the butterflies in her belly dance.
‘Or tearing each other’s clothes off…’ he added.
It was her turn to laugh, even as her cheeks heated, the memory of that morning still so vivid. ‘That too.’
‘Come on, let’s sit, so the staff can serve the food and head back to the mainland,’ he said, nodding past her to indicate the young waiter who had arrived.
She steeled herself against the familiar shudder of reaction when he placed his palm on the small of her back to direct her to her chair.
Once they were seated, the server placed a platter on the table filled with the conch fritters she loved.
‘This looks delicious, thank you,’ she said.
‘Jevon said they’re your favourite.’ The boy beamed, then addressed Rene. ‘I’ve left the rest of the meal on the serving trolley, Mr Gaultiere, as you requested,’ he said. ‘And Jevon says you’re all set for the rest of the week—he’s left an assortment of meals in the freezer and the fridge is fully stocked. If there’s anything you need, Marcia said to contact her. She wanted me to let you know a cleaning crew will be here for an hour each morning, but otherwise you’ve got the island to yourself.’
Rene nodded. ‘That’s great, Jerome. Tell everyone I appreciate their hard work and to enjoy the break.’
The boy smiled. ‘Yes, sir.’
He left swiftly, leaving them alone in the moonlight.
‘You dismissed the staff for the rest of the week?’ Mel asked, trying not to overthink his motives. She guessed it must have been a titanic effort to prepare for their arrival at such short notice, and they certainly deserved the time off.
Leaning back in his chair, Rene’s intense gaze roamed over her. ‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’ she asked, the butterflies doing somersaults.
Was it possible he craved the chance to spend some time alone with her? That his feelings might have deepened, too?
He shrugged, before lifting the carafe of hibiscus lemonade. ‘They’ve earned some paid vacation after the shifts they all put in getting this place ready,’ he said as he poured them both a glass. ‘And we don’t need to be waited on, we proved that in the cabin.’
‘True.’ She forced a wry smile to her lips as the butterflies relaxed.
She scooped up a bite of Jevon’s delicately spiced fritters, then swallowed it down with a mouthful of the fragrant lemonade.
She’d got way ahead of herself again but, even so, the chance to spend the rest of the week—until they could take the test—alone with him here was filled with possibilities.
‘Plus, I don’t want to risk anyone seeing you naked in the rainfall shower, or anywhere else for that matter.’ The low tone made the pulse of awareness at her core pound. ‘Anyone but me, that is.’
‘That sounds rather presumptuous,’ she said, trying to get the butterflies to behave again. ‘And possessive.’
But her half laugh came out on a raw breath when his eyes narrowed.
‘Presumptuous? I don’t think so.’ His lips curved, the sensual smile as provocative as his gaze when it dipped to her breasts—the nipples poked against the light cotton like missiles ready to launch. ‘But possessive?’ He let out a strained laugh, the sound arrogant and amused. ‘Definitely.’ He leaned forward, to trace a finger over the pulse point punching her collarbone. ‘If you haven’t figured it out yet, Melody, you’re mine. And I suspect you always will be.’ The kick of fierce joy was swiftly followed by apprehension though when he added, ‘Your body knows it, even if you don’t.’
His finger trailed down to brush the tight peak. She jolted back as savage yearning swept through her body.
‘I thought we agreed this isn’t just about sex?’ she managed as the cutlery she’d barely used clattered onto her plate. ‘That I need more than that.’
‘I’m not sure there is more,’ he said, but the muscle in his cheek tensed, and she wondered if he was really as confident and in control as he appeared.
She hoped not, because that would put her at even more of a disadvantage.
‘I know you want everyone to think that, Rene, but I don’t believe you,’ she offered, determined not to let him use his usual avoidance tactics.
He cocked his head to one side, but the shuttered expression wasn’t fooling her this time, because the muscle in his jaw was working overtime again.
‘You think because I have a few unexplained scars I’m a good guy, is that it?’ he said, the curt tone another giveaway. ‘We have an incredibly strong physical connection, Mel. Unlike you, I know exactly how rare that is, because I’ve never shared anything like it with another woman. But don’t make the mistake of confusing the endorphin rush of great sex with something more.’
She stiffened, absorbing the deliberately patronising tone—and the well-aimed hit to her confidence and belief, not just in herself but also in him and what they could have, if he would only let her in.
‘It’s not just the scars, Rene, it’s other stuff.’
He swore softly. ‘Like what, dammit?’ He sounded angry now, but somehow it felt like progress, the mask he had worn for so long starting to slip.
‘The nightmares… They seemed so real. You sounded so terrified, like an animal caught in a trap they couldn’t escape.’ She took a steadying breath, sympathy and compassion overwhelming her again as she recalled his broken, desperate pleading. ‘Or a child being punished for something they didn’t understand.’
His eyes narrowed, the frown becoming catastrophic, but he didn’t deny it.
‘The monster you were so afraid of… It was your father, wasn’t it?’ she said, wondering why she had never seen the answer before now. Fear could drive so many conflicting emotions, she knew that, because her fear of rejection—after her dad had just disappeared—had made her terrified of trusting her own heart for so long. Was it any surprise that Rene had chosen to hide that terrified child behind the facade of a reckless playboy prince?
His gaze darkened, his voice when he spoke, though, was tight.
‘Okay, yes, my father was obsessed with appearances. He also suffered from violent mood swings and could not control his temper whenever he considered my behaviour to be unacceptable.’
‘But if he was hurting you, why didn’t anyone stop him?’ she asked, disturbed not just by the words but also the pragmatic tone.
‘Don’t be na?ve, Mel.’ He sighed, suddenly looking weary. ‘The palace officials were forced to cover it up because he was their prince and their employer.’
She reached across the table to cover the hand he had fisted on the cloth, disturbed not by the patronising words—which she understood now were just another of his many defences against feeling too much—but by the flat acceptance in his eyes.
‘He hurt you, Rene,’ she said. ‘And they didn’t protect you when they should have.’
He shrugged, then tugged his hand free, to rake it through his hair. ‘He needed help. In retrospect, I believe my mother’s sudden death had a catastrophic effect on his mental health—and I became the focus of his rage and pain. But because of who he was, they didn’t give him the help he needed.’
A tear slipped over her lid. Why was he still protecting that man? And punishing the boy for something that had never been his fault?
‘But you needed help, too,’ she said, a gulping sob queuing up in her throat.
He swore again, then brushed the tear from her cheek.
‘Don’t you dare cry for that little bastard, Melody,’ he murmured, the horrified expression on his face part shame, part shock. ‘It was never that bad.’ She knew he was lying. She had seen the scars, and those were just the injuries which had left a mark. What about all the others—not just to his body, but also to his confidence and self-esteem?
He got up from the table, his agitation clear as he crossed the terrace to stare out at the sea again, his back rigid with tension.
‘And let’s not forget,’ he continued, ‘I have got my own back on him by being the worst prince Saltzaland has ever seen.’
The rueful tone only made her heart hurt more for that little boy who had had no one to protect him. Getting up from the table, she scrubbed the tears from her cheeks, knowing they weren’t helpful, and crossed to him.
‘Except that’s not true either, is it?’ she said softly, refusing to let the flippant remark pass. ‘Saltzaland has a well-run monarchy. You work much harder than you let on.’ She had seen the shift he’d put in at the New Year Ball, being effortlessly charming, and always diplomatic. And still remembered his fury at her unprofessionalism that evening. She had also seen the way all his staff responded to him, not out of duty or deference to his title but out of genuine warmth and respect. ‘You stopped drinking and carousing years ago.’
He turned to stare at her, his gaze wary—as if he couldn’t bear for anyone to see there was much more to him than the reckless playboy.
‘Just because you let the press print whatever they like about you,’ she added, annoyed she’d believed those exploitative stories and unfounded criticisms for so long, too. ‘It doesn’t make it true.’
He blinked slowly, then shook his head. ‘Who knew?’ he said as he cradled her cheek. ‘Beneath the kickass Valkyrie is a hopeless romantic.’
The cynical tone made her sad.
‘I’m allowed to be angry for that boy,’ she said, refusing to apologise for her feelings. ‘He deserved so much better.’
She swallowed down the urge to say more, though. He wasn’t ready yet, to hear how much her feelings had grown, how strongly she felt, not just for the boy but also the man. She could wait for that. The approval and awareness in his gaze was enough. For now.
‘Maybe.’ He lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers, to whisper across her lips, ‘But how about we stop wasting time now and get back to what we do best?’
She pushed down the regret—that he was still determined to sidetrack her with sex.
‘What about our meal?’ she asked.
The question came out on a shuddering sob as his hands delved beneath her panties to cup her bottom—and pull her against him.
‘We’ll have to take a raincheck,’ he groaned as he devoured her neck and ground the growing ridge in his jeans against her yearning body. ‘It’s you I want right now, not conch fritters.’
The desire rose—fast and furious and, as always, unstoppable.
He found one stiff peak and suckled it greedily through her dress. She barely managed to choke out a ‘Yes,’ as the heat built to an inferno.
Lifting her into his arms, he headed across the terrace towards her bedroom. She dropped her head back and let the passion sweep away her doubts—and the fear of rejection which had made her a coward for so long.
She plunged her fingers into his hair and worshipped him with her lips, peppering kisses across his cheek, his chin, and the cruel scar on his forehead.
All they needed was quality time together, for him to see what she saw, for him to believe in what they could have together. And surely there couldn’t be a better way to pass that time than exploring and exploiting the wild rush which had brought them together in the first place?
* * *
Much, much later, she sat on his lap, naked but for the silk kimono as the sea breeze rippled over beard-roughened skin and he fed her titbits from their dinner table in the moonlight.
This is enough for now , her heart whispered, even as the burst of afterglow turned into the bright, scary bloom of intense emotion.