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СКАЧАТЬ you,’ she murmured. ‘You do amazing things to a tuxedo.’

      His mouth quirked in a smile and his eyes lightened to the colour of a dawn mist as he took her arm. ‘I’d like to do amazing things to you,’ he whispered as he drew her down the last few steps.

      ‘And I’d like you to do them,’ she answered back. ‘I have a few amazing things up my sleeve as well.’

      Sandro grinned, and even as familiar heat flared inside her Liana knew it wasn’t enough. Sex wasn’t enough, never would be. But now was surely not the time for a heart-to-heart. Perhaps later tonight they would talk again. Learn each other again.

      Sandro’s grin faded and Liana stilled, wondering what had changed, when he addressed a member of the palace staff, who came hurrying forward.

      ‘Your Highness?’

      ‘Please bring the crown jewels to my study. The emerald parure, I think.’

      ‘Very good, Your Highness.’

      ‘The crown jewels?’ Liana repeated, and touched the chandelier necklace around her throat. ‘But—’

      ‘What you’re wearing is very lovely,’ Sandro said as he led her towards his study, one hand warm and firm on the small of her back. ‘But there is a piece from the royal collection that would suit you—and that dress—perfectly. Do you mind?’

      ‘Mind?’ She shook her head. ‘No, of course not.’

      ‘Here you are, Your Highness.’ The footman brought in a mahogany case inlaid with ivory, and placed it on the desk before handing Sandro the keys.

      ‘Thank you,’ Sandro murmured, and the man left as he unlocked the case and lifted the lid. Liana gasped at the sight of the glittering jewels within, and Sandro turned to her with a glint in his eye. ‘Lovely, aren’t they?’ he murmured. ‘Supposedly once owned by Napoleon.’

      ‘For Josephine?’

      ‘His empress. And you are my queen.’

      His queen. Liana thrilled to the words, to their implication. She was his, heart and soul, whether he knew it or not. Whether he wanted it or not. Yet in this moment she felt only happiness as he lifted the heavy necklace from its velvet bed, the diamond-encrusted emeralds catching the light and twinkling as if lit with a fire from within. ‘May I?’ Sandro asked softly, and wordlessly she nodded, holding her breath as she felt his fingers, warm and sure, on the back of her neck.

      Goosebumps rose on her flesh as he unclasped her diamond necklace and slid it from her, his fingers brushing the tender skin of her neck, the hollow of her throat. Liana bit her lip to keep a shudder of pure longing from escaping her. He reduced her to want so effortlessly, and yet she felt his own response, the strength of his own need as his fingers rested against her throat, his breath hitching slightly as it fanned the nape of her neck. She eased back against him, leaning against his chest, and his hands came around her shoulders, cradling her. For a perfect moment she felt completely at peace, wonderfully loved. He brushed his lips against her neck and then he steadied her again, before putting the emerald-and-diamond necklace around her throat, the stones heavy against her skin and warm from his hands.

      He clasped the necklace and then rested his hands on her shoulders again, his fingers curling around her, seeming to reach right inside. ‘Liana...’ he began, his voice an ache, a caress, and everything in her longed to know what he was thinking. Feeling. And what he was going to say.

      But he didn’t say anything, just slid his hands from her shoulders and reached for the other pieces of the parure: earrings, bracelet, and a tiara.

      ‘I’ve never actually worn a tiara,’ Liana said as he placed it on her loose updo. ‘Does it look ridiculous? As if...as if I’m trying to be a princess?’

      ‘You’re not a princess,’ Sandro reminded her. ‘You are a queen.’

      Liana touched the stones, wanting once again to tell him she loved him. Had he been about to tell her the same thing? She didn’t know whether she dared to hope, and she didn’t say anything, just put on the earrings and bracelet.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, when she was wearing all of the jewels. ‘They’re amazing.’

      ‘You’re amazing. They look beautiful on you. A true queen.’

      She met his eyes, smiling, only to have her smile wobble and then slip completely from her face as she saw the frown settle between Sandro’s brows, the darkness steal into his eyes. He might call her a true queen, but she didn’t know then whether he wanted to be her king.

      * * *

      Sandro watched Liana from across the crowded ballroom where the fundraiser for Hands To Help was being held; she was talking to several dignitaries, a flute of champagne in one slender hand, her body resplendent, like an emerald flame, in that amazing dress, the light from the crystal chandeliers catching the strands of gold and silver in her moon-coloured hair. She looked beautiful, captivating, and every inch the consummate queen.

      Sandro saw several men cast her covert, admiring glances, and he felt his insides clench with a potent mix of jealousy, desire, and love.

      He loved her. He hadn’t told her, hadn’t even wanted to tell her, not just because he didn’t know if she loved him, but because he didn’t trust his own feelings. His own self.

      Hadn’t he been wrong before? And while their time in California had been sweet, and their nights together since then even sweeter, he still didn’t know if it was real.

      Well, sex was real. Real and raw and powerful. But love? Could he love her after so short a time? What had happened to the icy, reserved woman he’d first met? Had she really changed—and had he?

      Restlessly, Sandro shifted and took a sip of champagne. Watching Liana now, he felt a new and unwelcome realisation sweep over him. Here she was in her element; she was queen. He saw the sparkle in her eyes as she talked about Hands To Help, the regal bearing of her beautiful body. This, he thought, made her come alive in a way he hadn’t seen before, even when she’d been in his arms. This was why she’d agreed to marry him in the first place, what gave her her whole reason for being.

      To be queen.

      And while that shouldn’t bother him, he knew it did. Because while Liana made a beautiful and perfect queen, he didn’t feel like her match.

      He didn’t deserve to be king.

      If I could have, I’d have left you to rot in California, or, better yet, in hell.

      So many months after his father’s death, his savage nearly last words still had the power to hurt him. To make him question himself, just as he had so many years before. His father hadn’t called him back from California because he’d wanted a reconciliation, as Sandro had so naively believed.

      No, his father had asked him because he was desperate. Because the media mess of Leo and Alyse’s marriage had seemed irredeemable. Sandro was the second choice.

      He hadn’t realised any of that until his father had died, three weeks after he’d called him in California. The former king had known he was terminally ill, had wanted to get the succession sorted out before his death.

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