скачать книгу бесплатно
He raised one eyebrow and waited. She shifted in her seat. Okay, yes, maybe she wouldn’t mind knocking his socks off with her accomplishments, but she didn’t like that he’d guessed.
“Come, Daphne,” he said, moving closer and focusing all of his considerable attention on her. “Tell me everything. Did you finish college? What have you been doing?” He picked up her left hand and examined the bare fingers. “I see you have not given your heart to anyone.”
She didn’t like the assessment, nor did she appreciate the tingles that rippled up from her hand to her arm. He’d always been able to do that—reduce her to pudding with a single touch. Why couldn’t that have changed? Why couldn’t time away have made her immune?
“I’m not engaged, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “I’m not willing to discuss the state of my heart with you. It’s none of your business.”
“As you wish. Tell me about college.”
She clutched her champagne in her right hand and thought about swallowing the whole thing in one big gulp. It might provide her with a false sense of courage, which was better than no courage at all.
“I completed my degree as planned, then went on to become a veterinarian.”
He looked two parts delighted, one part surprised. “Good for you. You enjoy the work?”
“Very much. Until recently I’ve been with a large practice in Chicago. My first two years with them I spent summers in Indiana, working on a dairy farm.”
She couldn’t remember ever really shocking Murat before, so now she allowed herself to enjoy his expression of astonishment. “Delivering calves?”
“Pretty much.”
“It is not seemly.”
She laughed. “It was my job. I loved it. But lately I’ve been working with small animals. Dogs, cats, birds. The usual.” She took another sip and smiled. “If your father needs any help with the cats he should let me know.”
“I will be sure to pass along your offer. Chicago is very different from Bahania.”
“I agree. For one thing, there aren’t any words to describe how cold that wind can be in the winter.”
“We have no such discomfort here.”
That was true. The weather in paradise was pretty darned good.
“You’re not very close to your family,” he said.
Daphne nearly spilled her champagne. Okay, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she didn’t fit in with the “real” Snowdens, but she was surprised Murat would say something like that so blatantly. After all…
The light went on in her head. “You mean I live far away,” she said.
“Yes. They are all on the East Coast. Is that the reason you chose to settle in Chicago?”
“Part of it,” she admitted. “I handle the constant disapproval better from a distance.”
“Aren’t your parents proud of what you have accomplished?”
“Not really. They keep waiting for me to wake up and get engaged to a senator. I’m resisting the impulse.”
She spoke with a casualness, as if her family’s expectations didn’t matter, but Murat saw the truth in her blue eyes.
Pain, he thought. Pain from disappointing them, pain from not being accepted for who and what she was. Daphne had always been stubborn and determined and proud. From what he could see, little had changed about that.
Her appearance had been altered, though. Her face was thinner, her features more defined. Whereas at twenty she had held the promise of great beauty, now she fulfilled it. There was an air of confidence about her he liked.
She leaned forward. “I’ve spent the past couple of years studying pet psychology.”
“I have not heard of that.”
She smiled again, her full lips curving upward as if she were about to share a delicious private joke. “You’d appreciate it. The field is growing rapidly. We’re interested in why animals act the way they do. What set of circumstances combine with their personality to make them act aggressively or chew furniture or not accept a new baby. That sort of thing.”
He couldn’t believe such information existed. “This is what you are doing now?”
“I’m getting into it. I’ve learned some interesting things about dealing with alpha males.” She tilted her head. “Maybe I could use the techniques to tame you.”
“Neither of us is interested in me being tame.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“I do.”
“You’re certainly sure of yourself.”
“The privilege of being the alpha male.”
She continued to study him. Awareness crackled between them. He could smell the faint scent of the soap she’d used and some other subtle fragrance he associated only with her.
Wanting coiled low in his gut, surprising him with both its presence and its intensity. After all this time? He’d always wondered what he would feel if he saw her again, but somehow he’d never expected to have a strong need to touch her, explore her, take her.
He wanted to lead her into one of the many harem bedrooms and make her shudder beneath him. Funny how so much time had passed and the desire hadn’t gone away.
“You’re looking very predatory,” she said. “What are you thinking?”
“I was wondering about your art. Do you still make time to do your sculptures?”
She hesitated, as if she didn’t quite believe that was what he’d been thinking, then she answered.
“I still love it, but time is always an issue.”
“Perhaps I should provide you with clay while you are here. You can indulge your passion.”
“How long do you intend to keep me in the harem?”
“I have not yet decided.”
“So we really do need to talk about Brittany.”
Just then the large golden doors opened and several servants walked in pushing carts.
“Dinner,” he said, rising to his feet.
“If I didn’t know better, I would say you did that on purpose.”
He smiled. “Even I can’t command my staff with just a thought.”
“Why do I know you’re working on it?”
“I have no idea.”
Murat had left the menu up to his head chef, and he was not disappointed with the meal. Neither was Daphne, he thought as she ran her fork across the remaining crumbs of chocolate from the torte served for dessert.
“Amazing,” she breathed. “I could blow up like a beached whale if I lived here for too long.”
“Not every meal is so very formal,” he said, enjoying her pleasure in the food.
“Good thing. I’ll have to do about fifty laps in the garden tomorrow.” She picked up her wine and eyed him over the glass. “Unless you plan on cutting me loose sometime soon.”
“Are we back to that?”
“We are. Murat, I’m serious. You can’t keep me here forever.”
“Perhaps I wish to resume the traditional use of these rooms.”
He held in a smile as her eyes widened. “You are so kidding,” she said, although she didn’t sound quite sure of herself. “I’m not going to volunteer.”
“Few women did at first, even though it was a great honor. But in time they came to enjoy their lives. Luxury, pleasure. What more could you want?”
“How about freedom and autonomy?”
“There is power in being desired. The smart women learned that and used it to their advantage. They ruled the ruler.”
“I’ve never been good at subterfuge,” she told him. “Besides, I’m not interested in working behind the scenes. I want to be up front and in the thick of things. I want to be an equal.”
“That will never be. I am to be king of Bahania, with all the advantages and disadvantages that go with the position.”
Daphne sipped her dessert wine. Disadvantages? She hadn’t thought there could be any. Even if there weren’t, it was a much safer topic than what life would be like in the harem.
“What’s so bad about being the king?” she asked.
“Nothing bad, as you say. Just restrictions. Rules. Responsibilities.”
“Always being in the spotlight,” she said. “Always having to do the right thing.”
“Exactly.”
“Marrying a teenager you’ve never met can’t be right, Murat, can it?”
His gaze narrowed. “You are persistent.”
“And determined. I love her. I would do anything for her.”
“Even displease me?”
“Apparently,” she said with a shrug. “Are you going to behead me for it?”
“Your casual question tells me you are not in the least bit worried. I will have to do something to convince you of my power.”
“I’m very clear on your power. I just want you to use it for good.” She set down her glass and leaned toward him. “Come on. It’s just the two of us, and I promise never to tell. You can’t have been serious about her. A young girl you’ve never met?”
“Perhaps I wanted a brainless young woman to do my bidding.”
Daphne stiffened. “She’s not brainless. And she wouldn’t have done your bidding. You’re trying to annoy me on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Is it working?”
“Pretty much.” She sagged back in her chair. “I don’t want you to be like that. I don’t want you to be the kind of man who would marry Brittany.”
“Do you think I am?”
“I hope not. But even if you are, I won’t let you.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“I’ll do whatever is necessary to stop you.”
His dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “I am Crown Prince Murat of Bahania. Who are you to threaten me?”
Good question. Maybe it was the night and the man, or just the alcohol, but her head was a little fuzzy. There had been a different wine with each course. She’d only taken a sip of each, but those sips added up and muddled her thinking. It was the only explanation for what she said next.
“You’re just some alpha-male dog peeing on every tree to mark his territory. That’s all Brittany is to you. A tree or a bush.”
As soon as the words were out, she wanted to call them back. Murat stunned her by tossing back his head and roaring with laughter.
Still chuckling, he stood. “Come, we will go for a walk to clear your head. You can tell me all your theories about domesticating men such as me.”
He walked around the table and pulled back her chair. She rose and faced him.
“It’s not a joke. You’re acting like a territorial German shepherd. You could use a little obedience training to keep you in line.”
“I am not the one who needs to stay in line.”
“Are you threatening me?”
As she spoke, she took a step toward him. Unfortunately her feet weren’t getting the right signals from her brain, and she stumbled. He caught her and pulled her against him.
“You speak of domestication, but is that what you want?” he asked. “A trained man would not do this.”
The “this” turned out to be nothing more than his mouth pressing against hers. A kiss. No biggie.
Except the second his lips brushed against hers, every part of her body seemed to go up in flames. Desperate hot need pulsed through her, forcing her to cling to him or collapse at his feet.
