widening, she watched him come towards her, his eyes hooded and unreadable in his hard face. Her heart began to beat faster, and the hope she’d thought so dead burst into flames inside her. Uncertainly she said, ‘What—what is that?’
He stood for a moment, looking down at her with a hooded gaze. Was he going to suggest they continue their affair?
What would she answer? Part of Lexie wanted nothing more than to lose herself again in the fiery passion summoned by his lightest touch. But any affair with him would eventually end, leaving her bereft.
He said gravely, ‘I have never done this before, so perhaps I am clumsy, but I would like very much for you to marry me, Lexie.’
Sheer untrammelled joy fountained through her, and then—as quickly as it had come—faded. The photograph of his sister, virginal and betrayed, flashed in front of her eyes.
He’d been shocked and startled to discover that Lexie had never had a lover. And Gastano’s jibe that seducing Lexie made him no better than the count would have stung.
Scanning his composed face, she searched for some sign of love, something akin to the violence of her own emotions. Her heart quailed when she read nothing. He even looked slightly amused, as though he knew what she felt, and expected nothing more than her vehement agreement.
What she couldn’t see was any sign of tenderness, of love.
It was then that Lexie realised that there are worse things than a love betrayed. A treacherous little hope whispered that in time Rafiq could learn to love her—only to be quickly rejected. Lexie’s hungry heart wanted more than a comfortable, sensible affection.
Oh, it would be a reasonably suitable marriage, she thought bitterly; after all, even though her father had been a murderous monster, she was related to one of the oldest ruling families in Europe.
She had no money and few social graces, but hell, her sister had learned how to cope with life as a princess; she could too.
Only she wasn’t going to.
A sensible marriage? Never! She longed for the fiery incandescence of uncontrollable love, the sort that lasted a lifetime, a love that would match hers.
In a subdued voice she told him, ‘It’s a great honour, but I’m afraid I can’t accept.’
Rafiq’s expression didn’t change. If anything, more was needed to convince her that he felt nothing more for her than a convenient passion, it was this.
He said on a note of irony, ‘Perhaps I need to convince you.’
And he pulled her into his arms, locking her there with relentless desire. Fighting back a white-hot hunger, Lexie drew on all her strength. She had to stop this before it went any further—and she knew how to do it. Rafiq’s icy pride was a weapon for him, but also a weak point.
Quietly, her voice level and bleak, she said, ‘You can make me want you. But when it’s over, I’ll still refuse your proposal.’
Then, because her emotions threatened to burst through the dam of her own pride, she folded her lips, trying fiercely to project her utter conviction.
To her astonishment he smiled and bent his head. She expected a kiss that echoed the violence of her emotions, but when it came, it was a soft whisper of sensation across her lips that broke through her defences, so raggedly and hastily erected.
Against her mouth he said softly, ‘Are you going to refuse me, my dear one? Surely you can’t be so cruel…?’
‘Please,’ she whispered, aching with anguish. ‘Don’t do this to me.’
‘But see what you do to me.’ His voice was tender, yet she heard the satisfaction in it as he pulled her a little closer so that she could feel the wild response of his body, lean and hard and supplicant against hers.
This, she thought, was truly the end. She looked at him, her eyes glittering, and said between her teeth, ‘All right, then—one last time, and on my terms. I’ll be leaving Moraze tomorrow.’
He froze, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her. ‘You mean this?’
‘Yes. It’s over, Rafiq.’ She lifted her head high.
He knew he could manipulate her with sex—and she couldn’t bear the thought of a loveless marriage, based only on that. When he became accustomed to her, as he would, would there be other women?
Perhaps not; he was an honourable man, but she would not be seduced into an existence that would eventually result in a kind of death of the spirit.
‘It might not be,’ he said curtly. ‘There is the fact that last time we made love we did not use any protection. That was my responsibility, and I failed you.’
With steely determination, she said, ‘It’s highly unlikely that I’m pregnant, but the possibility is no reason for marriage.’
‘What better reason for marriage can there be?’ he demanded, his face like stone.
Lexie had to respect him for not lying to her, but oh, if he’d said—just once—that he loved her she might surrender.
He’d carefully avoided that.
Hoarsely she said, ‘If I am pregnant, I promise I’ll let you know.’
‘If you are pregnant you will marry me,’ he returned with icy authority. ‘My child will not grow up illegitimate like Gastano.’
‘Our child—if there is one—will not grow up like him at all! What do I have to do to convince you that I know what’s best for me? And it’s not marriage with you. I will not be harassed or coaxed or seduced or intimidated into it.’
Just in time she stopped herself from adding, Your sister might have died because she was betrayed, but I’m not quite so weak.
It would be spiteful and it would be wrong, because her will power was already fading.
He said, ‘I could stop you from leaving Moraze.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ She stared at him, and something cold slithered the length of her spine. He looked ruthless, as tough as any of his ancestors of old, capable of anything. ‘Yes, you would,’ she said slowly, heavily.
She bared her teeth at him. ‘If the sex—because that’s all you’d get—is so important to you, then I can’t see why we shouldn’t enjoy each other one last time before I go.’
Silkily he answered, ‘No reason at all. But once you leave I’ll hold you to that promise. If you are pregnant, I want to know immediately.’
Colour flooded her skin, then vanished. Dismissing the immediate outcry from some distant, barely heard part of her that must be common sense, she said crisply, ‘Of course.’
And she lowered her lashes to mask the anguish in her eyes, and kissed his throat.
His familiar taste summoned an instant response, hot and compelling and heady, a surge of desire that swept through her and obliterated any weak appeal to prudence and caution, and all the boring concerns that might stop her making love to Rafiq before she walked out of his life.
‘I’m glad we understand each other so well.’
Something cynical and dangerous in his tone lifted the hairs on the back of her neck, but before she had time to react he lifted her and carried her across to the huge bed.
Mouth on hers, arms tight around her, he lowered her so that her feet came to rest on the carpet.
‘So,’ he said coolly, holding her a little away from him, his eyes intense and compelling, ‘Indulge me. Strip for me.’
His smile stirred more bitter pride in her. ‘Only if you do it for me as well,’ she retorted, head high, eyes challenging him in the most elemental of battles.
‘Perhaps we should do it