Scandals Of The Royals: Princess From the Shadows

“Well, I am,” she said. “Even though my mother and father can be difficult sometimes, I do love them.”

“Your father basically sold you into marriage, and you call that love?” he asked, a hard note lacing his voice, stripping the velvet off his normally enticing tone.

“Because he needed me. I’m royalty, a different set of responsibilities comes with that. You ought to know all about it.”

“And you’re doing your penance, right?” He seemed determined to make her angry, and it was working. It was working really, really well. It was easy to forget he’d just stood up for Luca. Easy now to just let all of the goodwill she’d allowed to build up between them slip right through her fingers, while clinging tightly to everything she’d tried so hard to ignore.

The helplessness, the sick, awful feeling that came with being used. The sense that she was little more to anyone than a pawn to be moved around on a chessboard.

And the anger. That was the easiest to latch on to.

“I’m doing the right thing,” she hissed. “Maybe I haven’t always. But I’m doing it now. Even though it means a lifetime of this.” She waved her arm, indicating the palace itself. Including Rodriguez in the sweep. “Because there’s more to life than just being happy, or satisfying base urges, or following your passions, whatever they might be at any given time. It’s about responsibility.”

“Perhaps. Why do you think I’m here? Why do you think I’m even in Santa Christobel and not in my apartment in Barcelona with a redhead? Responsibility. Don’t assume I don’t understand. But my sense of duty is not driven by guilt.”

“Well, it’s easy for you, isn’t it? Don’t you plan on just going along like Luca and I never happened to you?”

He paused for a moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “I did. But you seem pretty determined to make that an impossibility.” He advanced on her, his eyes locked with hers. She held her ground, mostly because she didn’t want to escape him. Whatever he had in mind, it didn’t scare her. It made her body feel tight, even while her muscles seemed to melt into pudding.

“What exactly does that mean? And do you expect an apology?” she asked, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, hoping that bracing herself like that might keep her body from trembling.

“No, princess, not an apology.” He stopped, just inches away from her, then he leaned forward, his palm flat on the wall behind her. She expected him to kiss her, to grab her, for his mouth to crash down on hers.

Her heart was trying to climb up her throat and escape, her pulse pounding so hard she felt dizzy, expectation and a huge helping of longing overtaking her senses. But there was no taking. No crashing.

He extended his hand, drew his finger along the line of her jaw, from her chin to just beneath her ear, the move slow and sensual, intoxicating. Then he brought his other fingers into play, sliding down her neck, his touch featherlight as it skimmed her sensitive skin. His hand drifted down, playing over the line of her collarbone, stopping right at the swell of her breast.

Her eyes clashed with his, the dark intensity she saw there drawing the knot of arousal that was building in her to even more extreme levels. Her body felt heavy, a sharp pain building and spreading at the apex of her thighs. What she wanted, and how quickly she had gotten to the point of wanting it, shocked her.

She’d never been a hot and fast girl. She needed time. But those few brushes of his fingers had been equivalent to thirty minutes of good foreplay. She had to make the decision that it was what she wanted. There was no way for her to make a decision now. She was helpless. Completely swept up in the desire she felt for him.

She just wanted him to close the distance between them. To push her roughly against the wall and let her feel the hardness of his body against hers … in hers.

Ultimately, she was the one that moved, the one who angled her head so that her lips could touch his. Heat exploded in her as soon as their mouths met, a hot, reckless urgency overtaking her.

His kiss was hungry, but hers was starving. She needed it like air, with a desperation she hadn’t known lived in her. She planted her hands firmly on the back of his neck, fingers lacing through his thick dark hair as she held him captive against her.

He kept one hand flat on the wall, the other on her lower back, his large hand splayed over her, his heat so perfect and wonderful and not enough.

When they parted, it was with a moan of disappointment from her. His breath was coming in short, sharp bursts, and she was really glad to see it. To know he’d been affected too.

“That,” he said, his voice rough, “that is what makes you hard to ignore.”

Her stomach tightened, this time not with pleasure. She hated this. That he was able to demolish all of her barriers like this. That he brought up the hot, fiery passion in her that she’d fought for so long to ignore.

Hadn’t she learned anything? Rodriguez was going to marry her, but he would be just as faithful of a husband as Gabriel had been to his wife. The only difference was that instead of being the bit on the side, she’d be the one raising his children, keeping the household and family going while he was off pleasing himself.

Was that why Gabriel’s wife had stayed? Because Gabriel had her, body and soul, while she had nothing of him but his passing, occasional sexual interest?

And was that what Rodriguez would do to her?

No. It wouldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it.

But she feared that with Rodriguez, the choice might not be hers. Because he didn’t simply test her willpower. He smashed it into a million pieces. Pieces that were so tiny she feared she might never be able to assemble it again.

“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls,” she said tightly, turning from him and walking down the corridor. Away from him. Away from the temptation he represented.

And she tried to fight the depression that was creeping over her like fog, drowning out the lingering arousal and leaving in its place the stark realization that time and experience hadn’t changed her. She hadn’t truly mastered that wild, passionate part of herself. She’d simply managed to hide it for a while. She wasn’t in control, and Rodriguez seemed to be out to prove it.

Madre di dio. Things could not get any worse.

“Are you serious? A birthday party?” Carlotta looked at Rodriguez and tried to ignore the slight fluttering that seemed to be taking place everywhere in her body.

She’d managed to steer clear of Rodriguez since the press conference, and since the kiss in the hall. She’d seen him, talked to him, but mostly she’d filled the two weeks since by acclimating Luca to his new home, visiting the local school, making a plan for him to attend in September.

But that didn’t stop her from wanting him. From staring at him every time they happened to have a meal with him. From fantasizing about him in her bed every night. In the shower the next morning.

She blinked and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

“It’s for one of the heads of state, and it’s one of the really fun things we get to do as rulers of Santa Christobel. You know, go stand on hard marble floors eating soggy appetizers until our backs hurt.”

Carlotta wanted to melt into the settee she was perched on. She already felt spent. Rodriguez had been at the palace all day and avoiding him was starting to feel like a full-time job. She’d taken Luca to the cinema in the morning and then she and Angelina had taken Luca out to the beach for the afternoon. She currently felt grubby, exhausted and more than a little bit grumpy.

“On such short notice?”

He acted so calm around her. It was irritating. After the stupid fight, the passion explosion, the continued fighting.

She closed that line of thought down. She wasn’t going to remember that. It had been two weeks. No. She didn’t recall any of it. And her lips did not still tingle. Neither did any other part of her.

“Sorry, I only just got the invitation passed to me, but it really is too important to miss.”

It was infuriating, and it shouldn’t be, that he seemed entirely unaffected by the kiss-she-did-not-remember. Because he should look tense. Or unsatisfied. Or angry. Just … something. Rather than his typical, easy-breezy self. The mocking curve of his lips had returned.

She blew out a breath. “I know this is what it’s like. Public appearance after public appearance. And then, after, you go home and go to your separate bedrooms, then get up the next day and start over. It’s what my parents have always done. They’re professionals at this.”

“So you can do it too. I’m certain of that.”

“I’m certain I can … I never wanted to. For a while I thought …” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m sharing … I don’t know what got into me.”

He sat in the chair across from her. “I have nowhere to be until 8:00 p.m. Share away.”

“Why?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Shouldn’t I know? I’m going to be your husband.”

“It’s boring. But fine. I used to think I would get married for love. That my husband and I would have this grand passion that could not possibly be satisfied by separate bedrooms. I used to want … more than the sterile palace life I was raised in.”

“And now you’ve lost that dream?”