Mills & Boon Stars Collection: Convenient Vows: A Royal Vow of Convenience / The Paternity Claim / The Housekeeper's Awakening

She supposed it was an indication of his arrogance that the note of surprise in his voice sounded genuine. ‘Yes, really.’ Meeting his gaze in the mirror, she picked up the brush and began to attack her hair.

‘You’re bored with sex already?’

She gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t be disingenuous, Rafe. I’m sure there isn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t find you physically attractive but my emotions aren’t something you can turn on and off, like a tap.’

‘Why bring emotion into it?’ he questioned carelessly.

‘Well, what about simple manners, then?’ She put the brush down and turned on him. ‘You were cold and accusatory towards me downstairs, yet the minute we get back to the bedroom I’m supposed to fall straight into your arms?’

He seemed taken aback by her frankness. ‘You seemed to be getting very cosy with my family.’

‘So? Would you have preferred it if I’d been aloof? Don’t you realise that’s what people expect me to be? It was actually lovely to meet people who treated me normally. People I didn’t have to put at ease, the way I usually do. Who didn’t seem to care that I was a princess. What’s your problem with that?’

‘I just don’t want them getting any false ideas about our relationship,’ he growled.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry your head about that.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I’m sure your attitude towards me will be enough to convince them that we have no lasting future. It’s just a pity you’re managing to ruin the present in the process. Great way to live your life.’

For a moment he stilled, as if he was going to object to her making such a personal comment, but he didn’t. Instead his eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what I’m doing?’

‘Yes.’ She could hear the powerful pounding of her heart as it slammed against her ribcage and knew she couldn’t keep avoiding the question she was burning to ask. ‘Tell me, do you and Sharla have some kind of history?’

There was a fraction of a pause.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘It was a simple question, Rafe. A yes or a no will do.’

Rafe heard the persistence in her voice as he looked into her luminous blue eyes. At those rosy lips, which were plump and parted. He could lie to her—of course he could. She’d told a few lies herself, hadn’t she—so what would a few more matter? Except that their conversation on the plane had made him understand why she’d been so reluctant to reveal her identity. Even why her virginity had become a millstone around her neck—something which had been saved for a man who had ultimately chosen someone else. Maybe there had been some justification for those lies she had woven, but the same could not reasonably be said of him if he chose not to answer her question directly.

And surely he could give her the bare facts. He didn’t have to give her chapter and verse.

‘We were an item a long time ago.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘Over a decade ago, in fact, and it lasted less than a year.’

‘And did you—?’

‘No, Sophie,’ he said, because he was discovering that some things could still hurt, no matter how deeply you buried them. That when you pulled them to the surface they could still seep like a dark stain over your skin. Still make you want to smash a frustrated fist against the nearest wall. ‘That was a lot more than the yes or no you initially demanded and it’s all you’re going to get.’

He saw confusion on her face along with a softness which affected him even though he didn’t want it to. And although he knew he should resist touching her when she was trying to unpick him like this, something made him override his instincts. Was it comfort he sought, or oblivion? Reaching out, he pulled her to her feet and brought her up close against his body, his hands cupping her buttocks so that she could feel the hardness of his erection. And she did. He could tell from the sudden dilation of her eyes and he half expected her to object as he bent his head to kiss her. To pull away and demand to know more about Sharla, because curiosity was part of human nature and women were far more curious than men.

But she didn’t. Was she intuitive enough to guess that right then he needed her kiss, in the way a starving man needed food? Was that why her lips parted, as if silently begging him to crush them with his own? And why, when he did, she kissed him back with a hunger which matched his, as if realising that in this, at least, they were properly equal? His tongue laced with hers and he could feel the urgent rush of blood to his groin as he skated his palm down over her hips. ‘Sophie—’

‘Shh,’ she said urgently, pushing her breasts hard into his chest, her breath hot against his. ‘Just do it.’

The unexpected earthiness of her response only fuelled his spiralling hunger and Rafe tugged the cardigan over her head, not bothering with the tiny buttons. Granted access to the silky camisole beneath, he rubbed his palm over her hardening nipple and felt her shiver as she began tugging urgently at his belt. His mouth dried. She might be a novice, but she certainly wasn’t shy. He liked the murmuring sound of approval she gave as she tugged down the zip of his jeans and wrapped her hand around his rock-hard shaft. But when she started to slide her fingers up and down, he gave a swift shake of his head to stop her.

Picking her up, he carried her over to the bed, his hands unsteady as he laid her down and pulled off the rest of her clothes. Curve after silken curve was revealed and he resisted the urge to let his fingers linger and caress her until they were both naked and warm beneath the duvet. He wanted to put his head in between her legs but he wanted to be inside her even more. Somehow he found a condom and although she seemed eager to take responsibility for the task, he shook his head.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Let me do it. I don’t trust myself if you put your hands anywhere near me when I’m in this state.’

Moments later and she was giving an exultant gasp as he thrust deep into her moist heat and that wild little sound set off something deep inside him. It kick-started a level of lust which grew and grew, threatening to blow him away. He did it to her hard and then he did it to her slow. He licked her skin and sucked on her flesh. He was on the very edge of control as he cupped her buttocks and drove into her, deeper and deeper and deeper. He never wanted it to end and yet for once he found he couldn’t hold back any longer. His body stilled for one exquisite split-second before finally he began to jerk inside her.

Eventually he turned his head and looked at her lying back against the pillows, her eyes closed. His voice sounded as if he was speaking from a long way away.

‘Did you come?’

‘Yes.’ Her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled. ‘Didn’t you notice?’

Rafe stared up at the ceiling. Not really. It had been... He shook his head. He thought a burglar could have walked in and ransacked the room and he doubted he would have noticed. What was it about Sophie Doukas, this woman who’d had sex just a handful of times who could bewitch him like this? Lifting his forearm, he forced himself to glance at his wristwatch and to ignore the renewed lust which was hardening his groin again. He yawned. ‘I ought to go and help my brother clear the snow from the paths.’

‘Can I help?’

He turned to look at her, propped up on one elbow, her glossy hair spilling down all over her bare shoulders and flushed face.

‘You?’ he said.

‘Is that such an extraordinary proposition?’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Totally serious. What’s the matter, Rafe—do you think the Princess isn’t capable of hard, physical work?’ Her blue eyes gleamed. ‘I travelled halfway across the globe to get to Poonbarra. Even you were surprised that I’d sailed across the Pacific. Shifting a little snow will be child’s play.’

CHAPTER EIGHT (#u3c9653dc-a6db-5332-99ee-adae386ae8bb)

IT WAS EASY to be nonchalant about your lover’s ex-girlfriend when he had just given you the most amazing orgasm, but not quite so easy once that euphoric blitz of hormones had subsided and you were confronted with the reality. And the reality was sitting right in front of her in church—an ex-girlfriend known as one of the most beautiful women in the world, and Sophie could instantly see why.

She tried to focus her attention on baby Oliver, who was swathed in a shawl of cobwebby white, and not stare at the eye-catching vision who was drawing her gaze like a magnet, but it was proving impossible. She’d seen pictures of Sharla, of course—who hadn’t? You didn’t get to command thousands of dollars a day without having a high profile, but nothing could have prepared her for actually seeing the supermodel in the flesh. Sophie had met some beautiful women in her time—indeed, her brother had dated a seemingly endless stream of them—but Sharla was in a league of her own. Sophie found herself thinking how weird it was that twin sisters with identical colouring could look so different. Molly was exceptionally pretty, with her strawberry-blonde hair, pale skin and wide green eyes—but Sharla took those same characteristics and turned them into something quite breathtaking.

Maybe it was the high maintenance of her appearance which made her so mesmerising, because she looked as perfect and as glossy as an airbrushed magazine photo. Unlike Molly, Sharla’s hair was shot with highlights of deep gold and rippled down to her waist. And unlike Molly, her endless legs were enhanced by a tiny pair of leather shorts and black thigh-length boots. This bizarre combination was topped with an iconic Chanel jacket and a kooky hat, which was an explosion of black and dark pink feathers. It should have looked ridiculous for a family christening in a small country church and in a way it did—yet the overall effect was one of beauty and originality. In her ice-blue cashmere jacket and skirt, Sophie felt strait-laced and conservative in comparison.

She risked a glance at Rafe but, judging from his cold expression, it was difficult to believe that a little while ago he’d been making love to her. Back then he had been animated and alive but he now seemed to have been carved from a block of dark and unforgiving stone. The ebony material of his overcoat hugged the broad width of his shoulders and echoed the blackness of his hair. There was stuff going on—she could tell. Stuff to do with Sharla. And much as she had been longing to ask more questions about the relationship he’d had with the supermodel, Sophie had bitten them back. She’d sensed he would tell her only as much as he wanted to. That she should be careful how far she pushed him because his defences were up and she wasn’t sure why.

She had seen the unfathomable look Sharla had slanted him when she’d sashayed into the fairy-tale church with its high grey walls and flagstone floors. Was that a normal look for a former lover to give? Sophie didn’t know. Would she, one day—in the unlikely event of ever running into Rafe Carter again—give him a similar look?

Apart from the godparents, the only other guest who had made it through the snow in time for the ceremony was Rafe’s father, Ambrose, a towering man with greying hair and piercing eyes, which were very like those of both his sons. Sophie felt as if she was being given a glimpse of what Rafe might look like one day and she was unprepared for the wistful way that made her feel. Afterwards, as they crunched their way over the salt-sprinkled path back to the house, Ambrose confided in her that he’d recently called off his engagement to a young yoga teacher.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Sophie cautiously, not quite sure about the protocol of discussing romance with your lover’s father. And people randomly confiding in her like this was something else she’d never encountered either, since normally her status kept her well away from idle chatter. It was yet another thing she was getting used to, along with sex straight after breakfast and sharing a shower with a man when you were both damp with melted snow and red-cheeked with exertion.

‘Yes,’ said Ambrose thoughtfully. ‘I decided maybe I should throw in the towel and admit that, after four failed attempts, I’m just not husband material. I always thought marriage avoidance was more Rafe’s bag than mine, but maybe I was wrong.’ He shot her a mischievous smile. ‘He hasn’t ever brought a woman to a family function before and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed that he’s turned up with a beautiful princess.’

Sophie knew this was her opportunity to make light of her relationship with Rafe and tell his father she was only there because of circumstance, but something stopped her. She told herself it was pointless to start a conversation which would only generate curiosity and more questions, but wasn’t the truth rather different?

Wasn’t she enjoying being Rafe’s lover and revelling in the fantasy while it lasted? Why end it before she needed to?

So she offered Ambrose no explanation about her role in his son’s life. She didn’t tell him that she had put her decisions about the future on hold. She simply smiled and said how pretty the house looked. And it did. The two Christmas trees glittered with rainbow fairy lights and somebody had lit tall red candles, which flickered all along a wide mantelpiece decked with garlands of greenery. Old-fashioned carols sung by a visiting group of singers provided just the right amount of nostalgia and Sophie watched Bernadette serving drinks and food—along with some young girls who must have been drafted in from the village to help.

She thought about the total lack of formality which existed here, despite the fact that Nick Carter was obviously a hugely successful man. It was nothing like her own home life back in Isolaverde. There was no procedure which had to be followed. No rigid timetable worked out to the nearest second. And best of all, she wasn’t weighed down with the family jewels she was always expected to wear. She felt light. Free. Fulfilled. And more than a little wistful.

Her gaze strayed across the room to Rafe, thinking how gorgeous he looked as he stood next to the Christmas tree, deep in conversation with his father. She was doing her best not to think about the powerful body which lay beneath his charcoal suit. Just as she was trying not to constantly hover at his side, telling herself he wouldn’t thank her for behaving like a real girlfriend. But once again she’d noticed the undeniable tension as Sharla had strutted up to him earlier, minus her hat and jacket, her perfectly toned arms glowing in the firelight. Whatever they’d said to one another had been brief but tense and there had been an angry glitter in the supermodel’s eyes as she’d marched from the room afterwards, announcing that she needed to make a phone call.