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As Melissa had suspected, “drinks with the king and queen” was code for a thorough grilling by not only Chris’s parents, but his brother and sisters as well. They seemed to want to know all about her and her half siblings, and the country of Morgan Isle. And they weren’t shy about asking. She tried to answer their questions as honestly as possible without giving away too much, or in some cases, too little. She had been with her new family such a short time that in some cases she simply didn’t know the answers.
Dinner was a five-course feast of seafood caught off their own shores, organic vegetables from the royal family’s personal garden and bread baked fresh from wheat grown in their own fields. They followed it up with a dessert that was so mouthwateringly delicious Melissa was tempted to ask for seconds.
Though she had never been one to choose organic or natural products, it really did make a difference. She would go so far as to say it was one of the tastiest, freshest meals she’d ever eaten.
It was nine-thirty by the time dinner was over and she thoroughly expected another round of drinks, and very possibly more questions. Instead, Chris’s parents excused themselves to their quarters. The king did look exhausted, but she supposed that was only natural when she considered that he spent his days running an entire country. And though he didn’t exactly have one foot in the grave, he was no kid, either. In his late sixties would be her guess, but she wasn’t rude enough to ask.
She also didn’t miss the way his children seemed to coddle him. The fleeting and furtive looks of concern they would direct his way when they thought no one was looking. She couldn’t escape the feeling that there was something going on with his royal highness. Something they didn’t want her to know.
Everyone said their good-nights, his brother and sisters included—although she doubted they all actually went to bed this early—and Chris walked her to her room.
“Everyone retires early here,” she said when they stopped outside her door.
He leaned against the doorjamb. “Our primary business is farming. Early to bed, early to rise.”
“In New Orleans, if I was in bed by one it was an early night. It’s a totally different culture.”
“To be honest,” he said, “I’ve always been something of a night owl myself.”
“Would you like to come in for a while?” she asked, gesturing inside her room. “We could have a drink and…talk.”
He looked past her into the bedroom. A single lamp burned beside the bed and the maid had turned down the covers. There was no denying that it looked awfully inviting. “I’d like to, but I shouldn’t.”
“Tired of me already?” she teased.
“Quite the opposite.” He took a step closer, his eyes simmering with desire. “If I allow myself to come into your room tonight, you know as well as I that we’ll be doing much more than just talking. Is that what you want?”
Though a part of her wanted to say yes—the curious, reckless, and let’s face it, lonely part—she knew it wouldn’t be right. She’d met him only a few hours ago. Shouldn’t she at least get to know him a little before she let her hormones call the shots? Before she gave in to the inevitable? Because she knew without a doubt that sometime before she flew home to Morgan Isle, she would sleep with Chris.
But not tonight.
“No, I guess not.” She took a step back from him, from the heady pull of attraction that would instead have her wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer for a long, deep kiss.
He looked disappointed, but not at all surprised. “I thought we would take a tour of the island tomorrow. See the village and the fields we control.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Shall we have breakfast first? Say, eight o’clock. If that’s not too early.”
She doubted she’d be able to sleep late, if she slept at all. She smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Good night, Melissa. Sleep well.”
“Good night, Chris.”
He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against it, and for an instant she thought he might take her in his arms and kiss her anyway, then he let go of her hand and backed away. He flashed her one last dark, sizzling smile, then disappeared down the hallway.
She closed the door and leaned against it.
Wow.
Her heart pounded and she felt drunk on the sensation of his lips against her skin. If she did sleep, she had no doubt whatsoever that she would dream of him.
She changed into her favorite silk nightgown—which also happened to be her sexiest, since one never knew—and because she wasn’t the least bit sleepy, booted up her laptop to check her e-mail.
There was one from Phillip. It said simply:
Have you spoken with the king and queen?
No How was your trip, or Are you having fun? He didn’t even ask why she’d sent the bodyguards home.
She couldn’t help but feel he was relieved that she was gone. Which could very well be her imagination. Phillip was not what anyone could call warm and fuzzy. He was, she imagined, very much like their father. With the exception of his sleeping habits.
As in, Phillip was faithful to his wife, while their father, it seemed, hadn’t been able to keep it in his pants.
She hit Reply and typed up a quick e-mail, giving Phillip a brief rundown on her visit so far. Leaving out the part about almost shacking up with Prince Christian. Phillip wanted her to become well acquainted with the royal family of Thomas Isle, particularly their future leader, but she didn’t think he meant that well.
She ’d never been one to sleep around, though that was not to say she was a prude in any respect, but maybe there was more of her father in her than she cared to admit.
She sent the e-mail and, with nothing better to do, opened her favorite card game, but after fifteen minutes or so was bored to tears. She tried curling up in bed and reading the book she’d brought along with her, but she couldn’t concentrate.
She called down to the kitchen for a cup of herbal tea, but not even that would quiet her nerves. Back home in New Orleans, a stroll in the garden under the moon and the stars was usually the most effective cure for a sleepless night. She doubted anyone would mind if she took a quick walk. Besides, how would they even know? Unlike her, they were all soundly sleeping.
She slipped on her robe and opened her door, peering out into the hall. In the palace on Morgan Isle, it seemed there was always some sort of activity going on, day or night, whether it was midnight bottle feedings or diaper changes, or the guards’ nightly rounds of the premises. In contrast, the castle was quiet and dark.
Melissa stepped into the hall and quietly made her way down the stairs and through the castle to the patio door. She slipped outside onto the patio, the slate smooth against her bare feet. The air was cool and damp, and the full moon cast a silver, ghostly glow across the land. In the distance she could hear the whoosh of the ocean against the bluff, but otherwise the night was eerily still.
To the east, just beyond the garden, stood the shrubbery maze, looking ominous in the dark. Yet it seemed to beckon her. If it was a challenge during the day, think of the thrill it would be to guess her way through with only the moon to light her way.
She glanced back at the castle, dark and still, and figured, why the heck not? This was supposed to be a vacation. And what was the worst that could happen? She would get lost and wander around in there all night.
She stepped off the patio onto the cool, damp grass and cut across the lawn to the entrance of the maze, her heart thumping a little faster with excitement.
Here goes nothin’.
She stepped forward and the maze swallowed her into its depths like a hungry animal. Inside it was dark and serene, and the towering greenery seemed to muffle all sound beyond its walls.
She waited for her eyes to adjust, until she could see the first turn ahead of her. She stepped forward, deeper inside, the grass cool and slippery under her feet. She turned the first corner to find herself at the end of a long, ominous-looking passageway. Memorizing her steps in case she needed to back her way out later, she walked slowly forward. Halfway through she encountered another passageway that hooked off to the right. Should she maintain her present course, or turn down a path that would take her deeper inside?
The adventurer in her said go deeper.
She turned and followed the passage, but after a few yards she reached a T in the path. Should she go right, or left? Logic dictated that turning right would put her on course for a dead end, so she went left instead.
Behind her she swore she heard a rustling, but when she turned to look, there was nothing there. Probably just a bat, or some small animal. She shrugged and continued on through a few more twists and turns until she reached another T. This time she chose right. She heard another noise, a distinct rustling of branches, but this time it seemed to be coming from in front of her. She strained to see in the dim light, and could swear she saw a dark figure cross the path somewhere in front of her.
Her imagination? A trick of the light?
Curious, she forged ahead, turning the same direction as the figure had, and found herself at a dead end. There wasn’t anyone or anything there.
That was odd. She felt around, looking for some sort of secret passage. There was nothing but solid branches, far too thick and brittle to slip through. Then she heard the rustling again, this time from directly behind her.
She spun around, but there was no one there. Yet she had the distinct feeling she wasn’t alone. “Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?”
There was another rustle, then the dark figure passed the T junction just ahead of her. It was too dark to tell who it was, or even if it was a man or a woman.
She darted after the ghostly figure, determined to catch up. But it seemed as though no matter how swiftly she moved, he or she was always rounding the next corner, out of sight before she could get very close. Whoever it was, they obviously knew the maze well. They had lured Melissa deep inside, and she’d been concentrating so hard on following him or her, she hadn’t been memorizing her steps. Now she had no idea how to get out.
She suspected that had been the intention all along. Whoever it was, he was taunting her. Trying to throw her off track, and it had worked. She was hopelessly turned around. And of course, her ghostly figure had chosen that moment to disappear without a trace.
“Swell,” she mumbled to herself. She wandered around for another twenty minutes or so trying to get her bearings, hearing an occasional rustle in the leaves, sometimes in front of her, sometimes behind. If this was some sort of test, she was failing miserably. She strained to hear the ocean, to get a bearing on her direction, but it was useless, and since the idea of wandering around in there all night held little to no appeal, she threw in the towel.
“You win,” she called. “I surrender.”
“I told you it was confusing,” a voice said softly into her ear.
She spun around and crashed into the wall of one very long, solid and—oh, Lord—blissfully bare chest.
Chris’s chest.
Chapter Four
Melissa was so surprised she nearly toppled over backward. Chris grabbed her arms to steady her, the heat of his hands searing her through the thin silk of her robe. He wore a playful, slightly cocky grin that she felt all the way through to the center of her bones.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I decided to go for a walk.”
“In the middle of the night?” His eyes raked over her and the gentle pressure on her arms increased. “In your night clothes?”
“I didn’t expect to run into anyone.” She didn’t bother to point out that in baggy PJ bottoms and no shirt he wasn’t exactly overdressed either. And it was taking all of her concentration not to stare at his smooth, muscular, magnificent chest. “I just assumed everyone had gone to sleep.”
“I’m sure everyone else has.”
“Except you.”
“I was working. I saw you from my bedroom window. When you went into the maze, I worried you might get lost.”
She doubted that. “Actually, I was doing just fine until someone got me all confused and turned around.”
His teeth flashed white in the dark as he smiled. “Most people aren’t brave enough to venture in here at night.”
She shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Giant, man-eating centipedes?” he suggested, then a sly smile curled his lips. “And there’s always me.”
“You?”
“You barely know me. I could be dangerous.”
Only to her heart.
She smiled up at him. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“You never know.” His hands slid up to her shoulders, caressing her through the delicate, slippery silk. “I might try to take advantage of you. There’s no one here to stop me.”
“What if I didn’t want you to stop?” She reached up and pressed her palms against the solid warmth of his chest, felt his heart thumping under warm skin and sinew. “Who knows? I might even take advantage of you.”
Even in the dim light she could see flames of desire flicker in his eyes. His gaze settled on her mouth, making her lips feel swollen and warm. Her heart began to beat double time and her skin felt tingly and alive. She knew instinctively that he would be an accomplished lover. Probably because she’d known so many who weren’t.
You’re moving too fast, her subconscious warned her. She barely knew Chris, yet already she was sure that before she returned to Morgan Isle, she would be getting to know him a lot better. Maybe it was destiny. Or fate.
“Since the minute you stepped off that plane, I’ve thought of little else but kissing you, Melissa,” he said, so close she could feel the whisper of his breath on her cheek. And, oh, how she loved that accent. When he spoke her name it gave her warm shivers.
A proper Southern belle would tease awhile, play hard to get. But she never had been one to play by the rules.
She smiled up at him and said, “So what’s stopping you?”
He caressed the side of her face with one large, warm hand while the other slipped through her hair to delicately cradle the back of her head, as though she were a precious object he worried he might damage.
He lowered his head, leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. So sweet and gentle she went weak in the knees. But she wanted more. Every instinct she possessed was screaming that this was right. She wanted all of him, right that second.
She slid her arms around his neck, pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Being in Chris’s arms, feeling his warm hands on her skin, his lips, soft yet firm, on her own, felt like returning home after a long, arduous journey. For the first time since she was a child she felt as though she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
A rush of relief so intense that she felt like weeping washed over her. She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life, and frankly, it scared her to death.
She flattened her palms against his chest and gently pushed, severing their connection. And he knew why instinctively.
“We’re going too fast,” he said.
She nodded. So much for her brave claims that she might take advantage of him. That she wasn’t afraid of anything. Right now she was terrified.
“Maybe I should walk you back up to your room,” he said.
“You probably should,” she agreed. Another time, another night, maybe she wouldn’t tell him no.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
She held it out, and he laced his fingers through hers. He led her through the maze and had them out in a few short minutes. They walked together in silence through the castle to her bedroom door.
She opened it, and turned to look at him. “I feel as though I should apologize for the way I acted out there. I’m usually not so forward.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t mean to rush things. It’s just that when I see something good, I go after it.”
So did she. Maybe the problem was that Chris was too good. To perfect to be true.
But wouldn’t it be nice if he was everything he seemed to be?
