Royals: Wed To The Prince. Robyn Donald

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СКАЧАТЬ know that.’ Someone should tell him that the purpose of designer stubble was to emphasise boldly chiselled features, not blur them. And his black hair needed cutting.

      A second glance convinced her that the shadow across his jaws and cheeks wasn’t for effect—this man hadn’t shaved because he didn’t care what people thought of him. From the corner of her eye she catalogued the rest of his assets, admitting reluctantly that the overlong black hair had been well cut, and stubble couldn’t hide strong bones and a mouth that combined sculpted beauty with a suggestion of ruthlessness.

      An elusive flash of memory teased her brain. Somewhere she had seen him…or someone who looked like him?

      Startled, she pinned a brief, dismissive curve to her lips. Of course she didn’t recognise him! An unkempt expatriate on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean was as far out of her ken as an alien. The men she met as a junior executive wore suits and strove for worldliness. This beachcomber, clad in an old black T-shirt and trousers, looked as though neither the word sophistication nor the concept existed for him.

      She took a deep breath and spoke clearly and carefully. ‘Can I fly in? Ms Musi—’ she indicated the receptionist, who was gazing at the newcomer as though he’d saved her from a shark ‘—tells me that the local public transport isn’t suitable.’

      ‘She’s right.’

      ‘Why?’

      His eyes glinted. ‘Would you be happy to travel on the back of an elderly, bullet-holed truck with no shelter from the sun and no seats?’

      ‘If I had to,’ she said curtly.

      ‘And cockroaches.’ No malice coloured the words as he said, ‘Big, black ones. If you go to sleep they chew your toenails.’

      Hoping he couldn’t see her skin crawl, she snapped, ‘I can cope with the local fauna.’

      ‘I doubt it,’ he drawled. ‘If you’re really determined to get there, you could try walking.’ He inspected her without haste before adding gravely, ‘But if you go like that you’d better invest in some sunscreen.’

      Who was this sarcastic newcomer with mocking eyes and far too much presence? The manager? Hardly, but it was typical of this trip into the wilds of the Pacific Ocean that she should be confronted by a scruffy dead-beat with an attitude—and a bewildering, raw sex appeal that set every treacherous nerve in her body jangling into awareness.

      Her composure evaporating under the impact of his lazily appreciative smile, Lauren stiffened. All right, so the pretty sarong in her favourite shade of crimson revealed an uncomfortable amount of white skin, but she wasn’t an idiot! Forcing her voice into its usual confident tone, she asked, ‘How long would that take me?’

      ‘It depends how fast you walk. Don’t stop for long or leeches will bite you. Do you know how to take a leech off your skin? Remove the small end first—’

      The receptionist broke in. ‘Mr Guy is making a joke, ma’am, because it is too far for you to walk.’ She gave him a shocked look, as though this wasn’t what she expected from him. ‘It takes two days to come by walking, ma’am.’

      Mr Guy didn’t exactly tell her who this man was, but at least his name gave her a handle.

      In a voice that blended satire with long-suffering, he said, ‘Your travel agent should have warned you that this region is pretty much without civilisation.’ He paused a fraction of a second before finishing, ‘As you’d know it, anyway.’

      ‘As you know nothing about me, I’m going to ignore that remark!’ Furious with herself for letting him get to her, she reined in her temper.

      Fortunately the receptionist burst into the local language and the newcomer turned to listen, obviously understanding every word.

      Skimming a cold grey glance over the T-shirt and trousers moulded lovingly to long, powerful legs and lean hips, Lauren was forced to revise her first impression. This was no loser. His thrusting bone structure—high cheekbones and a chin that took on the world—spoke of a total lack of compromise.

      And now that he’d dropped the mocking veneer, neither old clothes nor villainous stubble could hide his formidable authority. Beneath the beachcomber persona was pure alpha male, testosterone and arrogance smoking off his bronzed hide like an aura. Untamed, certainly, but—intriguing, if you fancied men who looked as though they could deal with anything up to and including marauding Martians.

      In other words, she thought hollowly, just the sort of man to take her to Paige’s pet village—if she could ignore the instincts that warned her to run like crazy in the opposite direction.

      He looked up, meeting her sideways glance with a coolly speculative survey.

      Lauren’s self-possession crumbled under an awareness as steamy and ruthless as the tropical heat. Not my type! she thought fiercely. She preferred men with at least basic social skills. More colour stung her skin, fading swiftly at the note of desperation in the receptionist’s tone.

      Black brows meeting above a nose that hinted at Roman gladiators, the newcomer posed several staccato questions, to which the woman responded with increasing reluctance.

      Feeling like an eavesdropper, Lauren examined a rack of postcards. Fans hummed softly overhead, sending waves of sultry air over her bare arms. The small resort promised total relaxation, and what it lacked in modern luxuries it made up for in exquisite beauty and peace. Until this man appeared she hadn’t missed air-conditioning a bit.

      Now, in spite of the heat, she wished she’d slung a shirt over her shoulders before leaving her cabin.

      Eventually the receptionist’s lengthy explanation—punctuated by worried glances at Lauren—wound down to a conclusion.

      Something was clearly amiss; a chilly emptiness congealed beneath Lauren’s ribs, but she hadn’t come all this way to be fobbed off.

      The man turned to inspect her. ‘Why do you want to go to this village? It has no accommodation for tourists, nothing to do. The only bathroom is a pool in the river. They are not geared for sightseers.’

      He had a faint trace of an accent, so elusive Lauren wasn’t sure it existed. Exasperated by the beads of moisture gathering across her brow and top lip, she evaded his question. ‘I know that, but I’m not planning to stay. All I want is to spend an afternoon there. In fact, that’s why I came to Sant’Rosa—specifically to go there.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘I don’t see that it’s any concern of yours.’ Lauren didn’t try to hide the frosty undertone to her words.

      He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Whatever your reason is, it’s not good enough,’ he said flatly, and forestalled her instant objection. ‘Come and have a drink with me and I’ll explain why.’

      Was this merely a pick-up? Obscurely disappointed, Lauren glanced at the receptionist, who hurried into speech with an air of relief. ‘Mr Guy will help you,’ she promised, indicating the man with a wave of one beautiful hand and a smile that paid tribute to his potent male magnetism.

      OK, so he wasn’t a rapist or serial killer. Not here, anyway.

      ‘In that СКАЧАТЬ