A Bride For The Playboy Prince: The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding. Sandra Marton

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      ‘I’d prefer to describe it as having taken a healthy dose of realism and I’ve always been that way. You never used to object before.’

      Reflectively, his finger stroked her bare arm. ‘Maybe I was too busy taking off your clothes.’

      ‘Luc—’

      ‘I’m only stating the truth. And please don’t give me that breathless little gasp and look at me like that, unless you want me to drag you off to the nearest dark corner.’

      ‘Carry on in that vein and I’ll walk off all by myself.’

      ‘Okay.’ He sucked in a deep breath before moving his hands to her waist—the slender indentation of her flesh through the delicate silk feeling almost as intimate as if he were touching her bare skin itself. ‘Let’s keep things formal. Tell me what’s been happening in your life.’

      ‘You mean the shop?’

      A faint frown arrowed his dark eyebrows together, as if he hadn’t meant the shop at all. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Tell me about the shop.’

      Lisa fixed her gaze on the tiny buttons of his dress shirt. Did she tell him about how empty she’d felt when they’d split, which had made her throw herself headlong into her work—not realising that her ambition was outpacing her and that by aiming so high, she’d made the potential crash back to earth all the harder? ‘People kept telling me I ought to expand and so I found myself a backer,’ she said. ‘Someone who believed in me and was willing to finance a move to a more prestigious part of the city.’

      ‘Who?’

      His voice had suddenly roughened and she looked up into his face. ‘Is that really relevant?’

      ‘That depends.’ There was a pause before he spoke again. ‘Is he your lover?’

      She screwed up her nose. ‘You’re implying that I started a relationship with my new backer?’

      ‘Or maybe it was the other way round? Your change in fortune seems a little...dramatic,’ he observed. ‘It would make sense.’

      Her feet slowed on the polished floor and Lisa felt a powerful spear of indignation. Was Luc really coming over as jealous—when he’d told her from the get-go that there was never going to be any future in their relationship? Was that what powerful princes did—played at being dog in the manger, not wanting you themselves, but then getting all jealous if they imagined someone else did? But she wasn’t going to invent a closeness with her backer which did not extend outside the boardroom door. She and Martin were business buddies and nothing more.

      She gave a laugh. ‘Everyone knows you should never mix business and pleasure, and I’m afraid there hasn’t been time for much in the way of recreation.’

      ‘Why not?’

      Again, she moved her shoulders restlessly. ‘The stakes are much higher now that I’ve got the shop and then there’s Brittany...’

      Her words trailed off but he picked up on her hesitation.

      ‘Your sister?’

      Amazed he’d remembered the little sister he’d never even met, Lisa nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘She had a baby.’

      He frowned. ‘But she’s very young herself, right?’

      ‘Yes, she is and...’ Her voice faded because Luc wouldn’t be interested in hearing about Brittany’s choice of partner. And even though part of her despised Jason and the way he lived, wasn’t there still some kind of stubborn loyalty towards him because he was Tamsin’s father? ‘I’ve been pretty tied up with that,’ she finished.

      ‘So you’re an aunt now?’ he questioned.

      She looked up at him and Luc watched her face dissolve with soppy affection—her green-gold eyes softening and her mouth curving into a wistful smile. He felt a beat of something unfamiliar because he’d never seen her look that way before and a whisper of something he didn’t understand crept over his skin.

      ‘Yes, I’m an aunt. I have a little niece called Tamsin and she’s beautiful. Just beautiful. So that’s my news.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘What about you?’

      Luc’s throat thickened with frustration, because ironically he felt so at ease in her company that Lisa would be the perfect person to confide in. To reveal that soon he would be marrying another woman—the Princess from a neighbouring island who had been earmarked as his bride since birth. A long-anticipated union between two wealthy islands, which he couldn’t continue to delay.

      And Lisa was a realist, wasn’t she? She’d told him that herself. She might even agree that arranged marriages were far more sensible than those founded on the rocky ground of romance, with their notoriously high failure rate. If he hadn’t wanted her quite so much he might have confided in her, but the truth was that he did want her. He wanted her so badly that he could barely move without being acutely aware of his aching groin, and he was glad she was standing in front of him, concealing his erection from any prying eyes.

      But something stopped him from starting the inevitable seduction process—something which felt uncomfortably like the fierce stab of his conscience. For a moment he fought it, resenting its intrusion on what should have been a straightforward conclusion to the evening. He knew how much she still wanted him. It was obvious from the way she looked at him—even if he hadn’t felt her nipples hardening against his chest or heard the faltering quality of her words, as if she was having difficulty breathing. Just as he knew that his desire for her was greater than anything he’d felt for any other woman. The words he’d spoken while they’d been dancing were true.

      But his duty lay elsewhere and he had no right to lose himself in her soft and curvy body. No right to taste her sweetness one last time, because what good would it do—other than trigger a frustration which might take weeks to settle? It wasn’t fair to the woman who was intended as his wife, even though it had been twelve months since he’d even seen her. And it wasn’t fair to Lisa either.

      He remembered that yearning look on her face when she’d spoken about her sister’s child—a look which indicated a certain broodiness, as women of her age were programmed to be broody. He needed to let her go to find her own destiny, one which was certainly not linked to his.

      Reluctantly, he drew away from her and it was as though he had flicked a switch inside himself. Self-discipline swamped desire as it had done for the past two years, and, now that sex was off the agenda, he noticed again the pallor of her complexion and faint shadows beneath her eyes. Suddenly, Luc was appalled at his thoughtlessness and ruthlessness. Had he really been planning to satisfy himself with her and then simply walk away and marry another woman?

      Yes, he had.

      His mouth twisted. What kind of a man was he?

      ‘Let’s go,’ he said abruptly.

      ‘Go?’ She looked up at him in bewilderment. ‘But it’s still early.’

      ‘You’re tired,’ he said tightly. ‘Aren’t you?’

      She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess so.’

      ‘And you’ve probably СКАЧАТЬ