Even now hunger gripped him.
Hell!
What was he doing, giving free rein to passion in public? It was unheard of! Raul kept his sex life scrupulously private after the nightmare scandal eight years ago. He’d worked tirelessly since to shore up his people’s belief in and respect for the monarchy.
Yet he couldn’t drag his eyes from Luisa, couldn’t force himself to step away.
Her lips were parted. Her dark eyelashes fanned, concealing her eyes. She looked wantonly inviting and the heat in his groin intensified. His hold tightened.
Could this be the same woman he’d once thought unfeminine? She was beautiful.
Yet more was at work here than a no-expenses-spared makeover. Even if the result surpassed his expectations.
He met lovely women all the time. But none made him feel like this.
The women in his life were easy company, a pleasure to look at. They satisfied his need for sex. He treated them well and they were eager to please. Simple. Uncomplicated.
Yet with Luisa he didn’t merely respond to a pretty woman. Her fire, her determination, her strength made her unique. He felt as well as desired.
She stirred against him and a bolt of erotic energy speared him.
No! He imagined things. This desire was so intense because he’d allowed her to provoke anger.
He avoided dwelling on the fact that in itself was unusual. He’d learnt years before to channel all his energies into his work. Emotion had led him to the brink of disaster. The eventual fallout of that error had destroyed his family and threatened the state. Now he knew better. He controlled his world. Never again would he be a hostage to sentiment.
Luisa’s eyes flickered open and a jewel-bright stare skewered him. His heart thudded out of kilter as his rationalisations crumbled.
Abruptly he released her and stepped away.
What had she done?
Heat blasted Luisa and she swayed, legs wobbling, as unfamiliar sensations cascaded through her.
She couldn’t—surely she couldn’t have kissed the man who’d blackmailed her into doing his bidding?
Surely she hadn’t … enjoyed it?
Cool air chilled her face and crept in the open front of her jacket. Yet she burned up, her cheeks fiery. Heat seared through her stomach and down to the terrible hollow throb between her legs.
Inwardly she cringed. So much for defiance. And for self-respect. What had happened to the reserve that had kept her impervious to the masculine sex for so long? The wariness borne of disillusionment and hurt?
Raul had hauled her into his embrace, kissed her and her brain had shorted. She’d gone from indignation to helpless need, craving each demanding caress.
How could she have responded to a man she surely hated?
And to have revealed her inexperience to him! No way could her shaming enthusiasm have made up for her lack of expertise. He knew now just how na?ve she was. How he must be smirking. The country bumpkin, easy to twist around his little finger. Show her a taste of what she’d never had and she’d be eating out of his hand.
Sickening echoes of the past filled her brain. Hadn’t she learned? How could she be susceptible again? Self-disgust was bitter on her tongue.
Reluctantly she opened her eyes.
Instantly he moved away, his brows drawing down in a ferocious scowl as if he couldn’t believe he’d touched her.
Pain speared her. No doubt she didn’t measure up to his exacting royal standards. Déjà vu swamped her, recalling the scathing revelations of her long-ago suitor.
‘I don’t want you touching me.’ Her voice was raw, husky with distress.
Raul loomed taller, his frown morphing in an instant to a look of cool composure.
‘That wasn’t the impression you gave a moment ago.’ He tugged at his shirt, straightened his jacket, and Luisa felt about an inch tall, realising she’d pulled his clothing askew.
‘I didn’t invite you to maul me.’ Conveniently she ignored the way she’d given herself up to his kiss. Even now she held onto the railing to stay upright. He turned her bones to water.
In the dimming light as the boat slid away from the bridge, it looked like colour rose in his cheeks. But that had to be her imagination. His expression grew haughty and his eyes glittered.
‘My apologies. You can be sure I don’t make a habit of forcing my attentions where they’re not wanted.’
Raul drew himself up like a guard on parade. Then with a flourish of one elegant hand he bowed formally. ‘I’ll leave you to your contemplation of the view.’
He turned and strode to the wheelhouse. He looked utterly calm, as if their passion had been a figment of her imagination. As if he’d felt nothing.
Surely not! He’d been as hungry for her as she’d been for him.
Or had he? She bit her lip, all too aware she had next to no experience to draw upon and that her judgement of men was flawed. Years ago she’d been dumbfounded when her ardent suitor finally revealed his true self when thwarted. His disdainful dismissal of her attractiveness and lack of sophistication was still vivid.
The possibility that Raul too had feigned desire made her want to sink through the deck.
Why should he do it?
The answer came too readily. To reduce her to starry-eyed compliance.
Luisa sagged against the railing.
It had worked. When he kissed her all her doubts and anger fled. She was putty in his hands. His kisses had been white-hot lightning, blowing her mind and leaving her body humming with a desperate craving.
She stared at his tall form as he disappeared into the darkness. Vivid as her recall was of that near seduction years ago, Luisa couldn’t remember kisses as devastating as this. Was her memory faulty? Or had years focused on work and family, shying from any tentative male interest, made her more susceptible?
The trembling in her knees grew to a quaking that shook her whole body.
Her impossible position had just become impossibly complicated.
Raul thrust aside a surge of regret as Luisa emerged from her suite. It was unfortunate he’d had to force her hand. Her vulnerability and her desperate pride struck a chord with him. And her passion—
No! Last night was over. A passing weakness.
He was in control now. Impossible that his feelings were engaged by the woman at the top of the staircase. He didn’t do feelings. Not any more. One disastrous mistake had cured him.
Though in her chic honey-gold trouser suit and black silk shirt, Luisa was eye-catching. The suit skimmed ripe curves he’d held just hours ago. His fingers flexed at the memories, still vivid after a night of no rest.
She cast a flickering half glance in his direction and chewed on her glossy lower lip.
A ripple of something urgent disturbed his inner calm.
Stoically he ignored it, focusing an appraising eye on how she descended the grand staircase. She gripped the banister tight, clearly unsure of herself in high heels.
As he’d suspected. She’d need help when they arrived in Maritz in a few hours. He didn’t want her falling down the steps from the plane and breaking her neck.
His gaze lingered on the long line of her throat. She had a natural elegance her farm clothes had camouflaged. His hands tingled as he recalled the feel of her soft skin, the temptation of her lips, the way her eyes flashed when she challenged him.
Her gaze snared his and his pulse slowed to a weighted thud.
Raul frowned. It was one thing to feel desire with a warm woman pressed intimately against him in the night. Quite another to experience it here, with his butler waiting to usher them on their way to the airport.
Worse, this felt more complex than lust. In a couple of short days she’d somehow got into his head.