The Illegitimate King / Friday Night Mistress: The Illegitimate King / Friday Night Mistress
darkly, intimately, “Clarissa.”
She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and almost coughed out the air that would have ruptured her lungs if she’d held it in another second. Just get it over with.
She drew in a hasty breath then blurted it out along with the question that had been eating at her. “What did you mean by ‘taking’ me with the crown? You want to marry me, right?”
A bark of cruelly masculine laughter ricocheted inside her skull. “Marry you? Without a long, hard test drive?”
She shut her eyes. How did he do it? How did every word he uttered blind her with arousal even as it also did with anger?
“So you want to have an affair first?” she seethed.
A shorter laugh revved through the ether to buzz through her every bone. “It might be an affair only. You might dissatisfy me, and it would end there.”
She counted to ten. “If you’ll be satisfied with an affair, considering the situation, as you’ve so…kindly said, I have no option but to accept. But I need to set parameters up-front.”
He tsked. “Parameters? How businesslike of you. Highly in-appropriate, when you’re discussing the plunge into sensual decadence I had planned.”
She jerked onto her back, tremors coalescing into one violent shudder before she went still and tense all over. “Had? Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”
He let her reach screaming pitch before he said, “I have.”
She almost felt her components scatter apart with the sudden loss of the tension that had been holding her together. The cacophony of emotion that rushed to fill the void was a deafening mixture.
Relief yelled loudest. Thankfulness mumbled its grudging concession. But to her disbelieving chagrin, it was disappointment that somehow made its whimpers heard over everything else.
It seemed he’d paused, knowing that these reactions would prey on her. His next words made that clear—made them all redundant. “I’ve changed my mind about what you deserve.”
She gritted her teeth. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that for six years, you must remember with crystal clarity, I’ve given you the courtesy of being the pursued. But I’ve decided that you’ve forfeited your right to such consideration.”
“And in your infinite wisdom, what did you decide I deserve?”
“That you must get down from your high tower and do all the running from now on. After all, you’re a record-holding champion at it.”
“If that means you’ll be running ahead, there’s nothing I’d love more than to run after you until you drop.”
She knew his smile turned to its most wicked. The illicit excitement that thrummed through her told her so. “No danger of that. I’m not as fast as you are, but my stamina is legendary.”
And the terrible thing was that she knew he was stating facts. He wasn’t a self-deceiving braggart like so many men she’d heard making such pompous claims. He was a man who knew his worth, his powers, and made no pretense at false modesty. A man who’d survived and triumphed over obstacles and dangers, over horrors she couldn’t begin to imagine. He also had the most glamorous women in the world fighting for a place on his one-night-stand waiting list. She’d bet he had stamina by the freight-load.
She harumphed. “So you’ll employ that Herculean stamina to stay one step ahead as I play ‘pursuer’ this time around. Any rules to this game I should be aware of? Any points to be scored? Any ultimate goal? Or is this going to be a wild swine chase?”
His chuckles rose at her insult. He loved it when she played rough, didn’t he? Who knew he had a masochistic streak. But then, it made sense. A steady diet of simpering obedience and syrupy adulation must make him sick to his stomach. What better than the corrosive sourness of her irreverence to equalize the queasiness?
If that was the case, he’d be happy to know she had verbal abuse by the truckload to pour over his arrogant head.
Meanwhile, he poured the black magic of his amusement directly into her brain. “As long as you keep the wild part of that chase going, this…swine will let you get as creative as you like about the rules. Points are scored at my discretion, of course. As for the ultimate goal, it’s changing my mind. You see, I’m no longer convinced you’re a…good enough incentive. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to convince me otherwise.”
“Any tips about how I’m supposed to achieve mission impossible?” She injected as much poison as she could into the sweetness of her tone.
His voice deepened. “If you succeed in making me spontaneously combust, that would be a good start.”
“And a fitting end.”
He hooted with laughter. She shuddered, pressed her thighs together, trying to ameliorate the throbbing ache deep between them. “Go ahead, give me your best shot.”
“I’d rather do my worst. Pity you’re dozens of miles away.”
“Are you alone?”
His sudden question aborted the flow of her venom, yanked sexual awareness to the forefront. “Y-yes…”
“Where?”
“I-in my bedroom.”
“Describe it for me.”
She tossed a frantic look around. “Uh…it’s big. Huge.”
“Details, woman.”
“You’ve been inside the palace. You know the dimensions and the general style of an average room here.”
“Your bedroom isn’t an average room. And I haven’t been…inside it. Yet.”
She latched on the first part of his statement, skirted the provocative part like she would a land mine. “Actually, it’s way below average.”
“Explain.” She cursed herself for getting into that, fell silent. He growled, “Bene. Be prepared for an inspection visit.”
“I thought I was supposed to pursue you now.”
“My visit will be in pursuit of answers, not your delectable body.”
“My room is a mess, okay?” she blurted out.
“You’re untidy?” She heard his surprise, then his disbelief. “Even if you are, you have a dozen ladies-in-waiting cleaning up after you.”
“I’m not a paragon of personal organization,” she hissed. “But if you think I’m allowed to be ‘untidy,’ just because I’m a princess, maybe you haven’t met Antonia, my bambinàia.”
“I have. A formidable woman. Is she still your nanny?”
“I call her nanny, but don’t you think I’ve outgrown the need for one? She’s my so-called lady-in-waiting now, but she’s more like a mother to me. And not only hasn’t her job description as my nanny ever included picking up after me, but her method of turning little girls into princesses was something close to what the U.S. Special Forces use in training Navy SEALs.”
Silence expanded after her words died away. Then he inhaled. “So you haven’t been pampered and coddled, mia bella unica?”
She swallowed past the sudden barbed tightness in her throat.
That kindness. When she’d thought it an impossibility. It was probably her imagination. Maybe a glitch in the line.
But she hadn’t imagined him calling her his unique beauty. “Your view of my life isn’t just rosy, it’s fluorescent fuchsia.”
She expected him to laugh his hardest this time. And again, he did the last thing she expected him to do.
His