His Royal Pleasure

“Taste me, Katherine,” he murmured. His voice was needy, irresistibly needy.

She couldn’t find the reserves to fight him. Rubbing her tongue against his, she tested the texture of his teeth and the roof of his mouth. He made a gruff, masculine sound of approval.

Needing something to hold on to, she clung to his shoulders, her fingers squeezing restlessly. Her breasts were heavy, and she ached in secret places.

As he mercilessly plundered her mouth, Katherine was lost to everything but him. She felt a clench deep inside her, increasing waves of sensation that threatened to drown her with their intensity.

“Oh, my God,” she moaned, tearing herself from his arms.

Utterly and completely humiliated, she wrapped her arms around herself and turned away gasping for air. For God’s sake, what was wrong with her? All he’d done was kiss her.

“Katherine,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She jerked away. “No! Don’t touch. Don’t talk. Just leave me alone.” She heard the huskiness in both their voices, felt his uneven breath on her shoulder, and nearly cried.

“But you’re upset.”

“I’ll be okay. Just give me a minute alone.”

He paused. “I can’t leave you like this. Not after—”

“Let’s not talk about it,” she said desperately. She cringed at the intimacy between them. He was too experienced not to know how aroused she’d been.

“Look at me, Katherine.”

There it was again, the note of command in his voice.

When she looked up at him, his hair was ruffled by the wind, his dark eyes blazing with blunt desire. His cheeks flared with the dusky flush of passion. And as she looked at his swollen lips, she touched her own.

“You’re not alone,” he said.

She almost believed him. “Maybe not at this moment, but eventually I will be. It always ends that way.” The breeze cooled her face and gave her strength. “I’m just an ordinary woman who will end up getting hurt.” She paused, shaking her head. “I don’t know much about you, Al Sanders, but I know you’re not like other men.”

His eyes flickered, then narrowed. The warmth of passion faded to something cold and bleak.

He’s angry, she thought. He might even be hurt. The notion didn’t sit well. She tried to say something but couldn’t think of anything that didn’t leave her too vulnerable.

Al turned away, effectively dismissing her.

Something inside her compelled her to go after him. Don’t let him be lonely. But then she caught herself and forced herself to be still. This man could destroy her.

For several long moments Katherine watched him, her mind and heart pulling in opposite directions. Finally she turned away and walked up the beach, shivering the whole way home, wondering why she felt so empty.

The next morning Katherine focused on her upcoming appointment with James Logan. She persuaded Chad and one of her most dependable employees, Suzanne, to help out with the children. Katherine gave them a mile-long list of activities to do while she met with Mr. Logan.

James Logan was a clever, middle-aged resort owner who talked circles around Katherine’s sales spiel. He’d griped the entire time. She countered each of his criticisms of the campground with a positive statement.

He didn’t like the layout. He didn’t like the menu at lunch. He didn’t like the color of the paint in the cabins. Katherine just smiled and pointed out that beige didn’t show dirt.

He didn’t seem to like much of anything. When they’d concluded the excruciatingly thorough tour, he’d said, “I’ll call you.” Translated: You’ll never hear from me again.

Katherine was tired enough to be more relieved than disappointed. The only thing she wanted now was a six-hour bath. Her conscience chided her to check on how Suzanne and Chad were doing, so she hustled the rest of the way to the front porch. Pulling off the plastic poncho, Katherine laughed at her wet, mud-splattered appearance. “Give me a white flag,” she murmured to herself.

The sound of applause filtered through the wooden door. Curious, she opened it and caught sight of Chad and a group of little boys playing cards. They were chewing gum and swilling Kool-Aid. A sliver of unease sifted through her. Chad wouldn’t teach them poker, would he?

Noting the backs of the cards, Katherine relaxed. Old Maid.

She pushed the door open wider. The activity on the other side of the room stopped her midmotion. A lamp, minus its shade, perched on a low stool. A small army of boys and girls holding switches lunged and feinted as if sword fighting. Their movements created a dancing display of shadows on the far wall.

Al called out and showed them a movement. They stopped to watch, then, in unison, imitated his precision with childlike awkwardness.

“En garde,” he said in a commander’s voice.

“En garde,” they returned, and copied his bow.

A chill ran down her spine.

The whole scene carried an air of unreality. Al feinted and parried with his imaginary opponent, moving with agility and skill. His shadow looked larger than life. She could almost imagine him in times of old, protecting, defending, conquering.

His powerful body flexed with tension. His face was set with concentration. This was no game for him, Katherine sensed. It made her wonder about him. Who was he? Why was he here? What did he want from her?

He lunged and took the killing stroke through the heart of his victim. The room cheered. He turned, faced the crowd and gave a brief bow.

Chad came up beside her.

Katherine forced her gaze to her brother. “How’d it go?”

He shrugged. “Not bad. Big Napoleon here got everyone straight this morning.”

“Big Napoleon?”

Chad grinned, pleased with himself. “Yeah. It’s my new nickname for him. Pretty clever, huh?”

“Very clever,” Katherine said. “Have you shared it with Al?”

“Hell, no. I’m not an idiot. He’s great with a sword, and I’ve got strong survival instincts. Which,” he added darkly, “is why I didn’t drink any coffee this morning. Al fixed it, and it tasted like sh—” He broke off, glancing over his shoulder at the wide-eyed children who stood behind them. He lowered his voice. “Horrible. If you have an ounce of concern for my health or our coffeemaker, you’ll make it before he does.”

Katherine laughed. “Okay. I hear you.”

Chad looked at Al again. “We ought to get him to be a pirate in that skit we always used to do.” Chad paused. “He’s looking at you.”

Her chest tightened. “I’ll ask him about the skit,” she said. She didn’t want to look at Al. She was afraid that she would turn into a quivering mass of Jell-O.

“He’s still looking at you.”

“Thanks for telling me,” she muttered, resigning herself. Time to face the music, chickie. Anticipation is usually worse than reality, she told herself.

When she looked up and met his deep, dark gaze, though, her heart seemed to stop. Standing tall, with that sword in his hand, he looked every inch the conquering male. But his eyes were tentative, asking, not demanding, and her defenses melted like butter in the sun.