A Royal World Apart Page 8

  She reached out and put her hand on the doorknob. It put her very near Mak and her breath caught in her throat. It was hard to breath with him so close, and even when she did manage to take in a short burst of air it flooded her with the scent of him. So familiar. So uniquely Mak.

  She pushed the handle down and the door opened. “So I’ll … go. Can you have my bags brought up?”

  He nodded once, his eyes intent on hers, his face still inscrutable. She hated that. Hated that he could remain a complete mystery to her while she had the feeling that, to him, she was an open book. She wondered just how much he read with each glance. If he knew why her cheeks got pink when he was so close. Why she struggled to breathe.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “I’ll …” She fought to finish the thought and failed.

  “Go?”

  “Yes.” She stepped into the room, expansive and warm, a lit fireplace similar to the one downstairs on the back wall, across from a large four-poster bed with a plush quilt draped over the foot.

  “I’m tired. It’s … I’ll probably lie down for a while. But if you want to have my … my bags …”

  “You want your bags,” he said, finishing her thought again. Her stupid, repetitious, rambly thought that was betraying just how scrambled her brain was.

  “Yes. That would be … great.”

  He looked at her for a moment, his expression hardening, a strange glint in his gray eyes. She was tempted to touch his face, then trace the faint scar that ran along his cheek. Tempted to touch the heavy, dark shadow that covered his jaw.

  “I’ll have them sent up.” He turned sharply and walked back down the hall, down the stairs.

  She stood in the doorway, watching. She still couldn’t breathe.

  It was foolishness to bring Eva’s suitcases to her. Foolish to desire temptation as he did. To long for that touch of illicit thrill, that siren’s call to sin. To invite forbidden fruit to come near his lips, to smell it, allow his mouth water with the desire to have it, with no real intention of taking a taste. It was some new form of masochism he’d discovered since meeting Eva.

  He found himself continually chasing it. The jolt of desire he felt when he was near her. The electric rush of blood through his veins, south of his belt, that made him feel alive. Made him feel like a man.

  He put one of the large cream-colored suitcases down and knocked on the door to Eva’s room.

  There was no response, and the silence brought to mind the mental image of Eva rappelling out the second-floor window and dashing through the deep snow in those ridiculous boots of hers.

  He pushed the door open and stopped when he saw her, lying flat on her back on the bed, her arm thrown over her face, her dark curls tumbled around her head in a wild, glossy mass. She was still wearing her boots.

  There was nothing suggestive about her pose, and yet, she stopped him cold, his heart thundering heavily. The dull throb of arousal working its way through his veins.

  Her boots looked like an uncomfortable addition to her nap. Without thinking, he reached out and placed his hand on her leather-covered calf. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his body aching instantly at the feel of her warmth beneath his palm. He let his fingertips drift upward, stopping at the edge of the boot.

  He pulled his hand back. He had no right to touch her.

  Unzipping the boots and pulling them off would be too close to a taste. Much too close.

  He curled his hand into a fist and tried to ignore the burning in his chest that was reminding him to breathe. Breathing was a risk. Her scent only pushed the level of temptation up higher, only made it more difficult to stop himself from getting closer, from touching.

  She sighed and arched her back, her breasts pushing against her sweater, round and full. He gritted his teeth against the rush of need that flooded him.

  She pushed up, her hair spilling over her shoulders. “Mak?”

  His name on her lips, her voice thick with sleep, was like a punch straight to his gut.

  “I brought your bags. You were tired.”

  “Yeah.” She arched and stretched, her movements smooth, feline. Sexy.

  “Feeling better?”

  “A little bit.” She got off of the bed and walked over to the window, her hips swaying as she walked, his control, already shaky, not up to the task of keeping his gaze from straying to the round curve of her butt. “It’s really beautiful here. Maybe I need some quiet. Maybe I need this.”

  He was starting to think it had been a mistake. He should have found somewhere else. Somewhere busy. Somewhere she might not be as recognizable but could still get out, get to a public place with as many people between them as possible.

  Anything was preferable to having her alone in a bedroom, with every freedom, physically, to do just as he pleased.

  But that physical freedom, the ability to touch her, kiss her, meant nothing. Not when he was bound by honor, by his word, to protect her as her father wanted her protected.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “A little.”

  “I can have my housekeeper make something.”

  She frowned. “It’s easy to forget there are other people here. It feels like we’re the only two people on the planet.”

  “There aren’t nearly as many people here as there are in the palace in Kyonos. And my staff don’t live on site. They live down in the village at the base of the mountain. I’m not here on a regular basis so I really just need a caretaker most of the time to ensure things don’t fall apart.”

  “How many people are here when you’re here?”

  “Just Liesel and her husband Jan. She cooks for me, and he does a lot of the general prep for the house. Makes sure the fires are going so that it’s warm by the time I arrive. Then they typically leave after dinner.”

  “So … you end up here alone for a lot of the day?”

  “Yes.”

  A tiny crease marred her brow. “I don’t think I’ve ever really been alone. There’s a staff of hundreds at the palace in Kyonos. Discounting the guard, of course. A lot of them live there, someone is always up working.”

  “So this will be an experience then,” he said dryly, turning to leave her room.

  “I still won’t be alone. I’ll be … alone with you,” she said.

  His stomach tightened. He didn’t want to be aware of that. He already was, but having her say it out loud made it even more stark, even harder to ignore. That they would be the only two in the house after Liesel and Jan left for the night felt like too much to manage, at least at the moment. He would get a grip on his control again, but until then, the image was troubling.

  “You can’t be alone with someone,” he said.

  “Just the two of us then. That feels …” she trailed off, looking away. It didn’t help that her thoughts seemed to be straying in the same direction.

  He didn’t know exactly how innocent Eva was, but he could guess. He had a feeling it was contributing to just how much she was betraying. That he could read her thoughts, that he could guess just what it felt like to her to find herself secluded in a house with him.

  Because he felt it too.

  He had practice resisting the need for sex. Had it in spades. He doubted there were many men on the planet who hadn’t taken vows to the church with as much experience in the matter. Still, she made it seem hard, when for years it had seemed like little more than a mild annoyance.

  He’d grown used to it. Blocking it out. And when that became impossible at night when his entire body cried out for release, he was adept at taking care of it alone, quickly, precisely. He’d spent hours in the gym, running along the beach at the home he’d shared with Marina, so that when night came, he could fall into bed and sleep like the dead the moment his head hit the pillow. It had never been enough, but it had been manageable. Until Eva.

  “I promise you, printzyessa, I will never take advantage of you. I’ve promised to protect you, I made a promise to your father, and now I mak
e the same promise to you. I will not break that vow.” And now that he’d spoken it, it was reinforced. There was no going back on it. Ever.

  She looked at him, dark eyes wide, filled with emotion. Filled with everything. They were windows into her, letting him see just how young and open she still was. How unscarred by the things of the world.

  How easy it would be to hurt her. To damage all of that sparkle, all of that soft, sweet beauty. He curled his hands into fists, so rough and scarred from living the kind of life Eva couldn’t possibly imagine. Touching her would be a cruelty.

  “I never thought you would,” she said.

  “Then you are truly naive,” he said, his tone rough, unrecognizable even to himself. He hadn’t given himself permission to speak the words, to betray so much. “I’m only a man after all.”

  She took a step toward him, and he took a step back. “I never took you for anything else,” she said. She extended her hand and took another step. This time he didn’t move back. He dared her to follow through with what she was starting. He didn’t believe she would.

  She took another step toward him, resting her hand lightly on his chest, right over his heart. “Just as I thought,” she said. “Not a machine at all. You even have a heartbeat.”

  He put his hand over hers, held it to his chest. He felt as though he was starving for contact, a connection. For touch. Her touch. His heartbeat sped up beneath their hands and he dropped his hold on her, the realization of crossing a line hitting him a beat too late.

  “I never thought you’d do anything to take advantage of me,” she said softly, her fingers flexing against his chest. Testing him. Torturing him.

  “Then your imagination is sadly lacking,” he said.

  He could feel his control slipping, feel himself losing hold of everything. Of honor. Of reality. Of everything but the raging desire that was pouring into him.

  “You’re offended that I imagined you would be honorable?” she asked slipping her hand from beneath his and crossing her arms beneath her breasts, drawing his eyes to them again.

  He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his body. He lowered his head, stopping with his lips just a breath from hers. “I am not a eunuch.”

  Her dark eyes widened, plump lips parted. “I never thought you were.”

  He moved his head closer. He could feel her breath on his mouth, tempting him to take a taste. A shudder moved through his body. Need. Desire. Stronger than he’d ever felt them. His grasp on his control so much more tenuous than it had ever been. Because of Eva. “Then don’t assume I’m somehow above the needs of a man. Don’t assume that simply because a tiger has been put in a cage, he doesn’t want to eat you.”

  She angled her face, putting their lips even closer, her dark eyes glittering. Challenging. Utterly Eva. “I’m gratified to hear it.”

  He released her and stepped back. “As it is, I’m currently caged.”

  She tilted her chin up, her expression defiant. “I’m sure we’re both better for it.”

  “No doubt.” He moved to the door, ignoring the rage and need that was coursing through him like a current, ready to overflow the confines of a river bed. “Dinner?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. I’m starving.”

  Eva had never been more grateful to have a large piece of furniture between her and someone else. What had passed between her and Mak upstairs had left her shaking. And wanting more.

  She took a sip of her soup and devoted a lot more concentration to watching the spoon as she pulled it away from her lips and set it back down into the bowl. Then she devoted a lot more attention than anyone not cooking the soup needed to devote to the rich red color of the broth. Anything to avoid looking at Mak.

  She’d betrayed too much. She’d pushed him too far. Of course, he’d revealed a bit himself, but then … he was a man. A point he’d made very clear. And admitting desire was probably a lot easier, and more common and less meaningful for a man than it was for a woman.

  At least, it would be for her brother, who seemed to change mistresses with alarming frequency. Stavros would admit desire for a woman within five minutes of meeting her, and likely have that desire satisfied a couple of hours after that. Discreetly, of course, since Stavros would never do anything to compromise the family name.

  She didn’t really like thinking of her brother in those terms, but he was the only man she really knew. She had no reason to believe that Mak wasn’t the same. Yes, he’d been married, but he was single, and likely had been for a while. Which meant he was probably back to being free and easy with the way he satisfied his body’s needs.

  And he was also back to that implacable, emotionless calm of his. She’d successfully gotten a growl out of him, but that was about it. He was all hard steel. Immovable. Unshakable. Uncompromising.

  “Is dinner to your liking?” he asked.

  A bland, ridiculous question all things considered. Did he really feel nothing? Her entire body felt singed and he was just … fine.

  How annoying.

  “Perfect. Good enough for a tiger to eat, maybe.”

  He chuckled, low and emotionless, but sexy all the same. “Maybe.”

  “What is it you do for fun around here? Make snow angels?” she asked, looking up at the high ceiling.

  “Not quite. There’s a good ski resort nearby, and the village is nice. But I mainly come here to be alone, as I said. To get away from demands.”

  “Of your work.”

  He paused for a moment, a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Just for a moment. “Among other things. But mainly work now. Not that I ever truly leave my work behind. It’s far too important.”

  “But you don’t generally go out in the field now.”

  “I haven’t been an operative for a long time. I organize, I make connections and head up training. Things have expanded and we now do security on nearly every level you can think of.”

  “That’s … daunting.”

  “It’s how I’ve made my fortune. Certainly more gratifying than working just as hard for pennies. For just enough to buy food for my family for a couple of days.”

  Her throat tightened. It was easy to see Mak as super-human. As someone so far beyond her, in life experience, in so many things, that she could forget he’d had struggles. That he’d been through things that were more difficult to bear than anything she’d ever had to endure.

  “Did your … couldn’t your father work?”

  “He did. And we waited in line for food, for the same nothing everyone else got. I did what I could on the side. Hid that bit of extra. There were a lot of mouths to feed. I’m one of five children.”

  “Do you … do you ever see them now?”

  “The ones I could find. I lost touch with them for so long … and I’m not the only one. They all sort of drifted apart.”

  “How did you lose each other?”

  “A number of reasons, I should think. Mostly the pursuit of a better life, which took us all far from where we came from. Though I’m not sure of the specifics for everything.” He paused. “I know how I lost track of them, but it’s a long story.”

  “I have time,” she said.

  “You’re trying to hold hands and share again.”

  She shrugged. “It won’t kill you.”

  “All right. I got married young. I left home.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s all,” he burst out. “Marina’s parents didn’t approve, and that meant leaving as soon as we possibly could to avoid her father coming to kill me. Or if not kill, seriously harm or perhaps have me sent to jail for kidnapping or whatever else he might be able to think of. I had gotten work out of the country anyway, which was for the best, for both of us. It was a dream of hers to live in Paris.” He pushed out a heavy breath “We were going to live in Paris.”

  “And?” she pressed.

  “And story time is over. You seem like the sort of girl who likes happy endings. This one ends
badly.” He stood. “Are you finished?”

  “What?” She looked down at her half-eaten soup. “Yes.”

  He picked up her bowl and his and headed into the kitchen.

  She watched him go, her mind turning his words over. His wife had died, of course it had ended badly.

  But she wished she knew more. Wished she knew what had happened to make him who he was. Wished she could imagine that he’d been happy, just for a while. She hoped he had been. That he’d had a few years of joy with someone he loved.

  But since he wouldn’t show her emotion, good or bad, she probably wouldn’t get to find out.

  She tried to imagine him happy, with a real smile on his face, one that filled his eyes.

  She couldn’t.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EVA settled into the hot tub and let the warm water wash over her limbs. The oval stone basin was set out on the wooden deck, overlooking the snow-capped peaks.

  The steam rose, thick and curling in the crisp night air. It would have been relaxing if she wasn’t permanently tense from being near Mak.

  He made her feel things, want things …

  Love, she’d always wanted. And sex, yes, but always the two of them together. Mak made her not care quite so much about the L-word and that frightened her a little. Because she felt that sort of wildness in her she’d been trying to create for the past few months bubbling to the surface when he was around. Real. Out of control.

  And that had never been part of her hazy plan.

  Everything she’d done had been calculated, and while some of it had backfired, the bits of it she could control, she had controlled.

  But that was all gone with Mak. Every bit of it.

  She lifted her hand out of the water and turned it so it was palm up, watching as steam rose from her skin, feeling the cold start to penetrate the cloak of heat that had enveloped her.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Mak was standing in the doorway, all lean, hard angles and exuding more sex appeal than any one person was entitled to.

  “Less now,” she muttered.