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CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS WHAT she had come here for, Ria reminded herself. To tell him the story that had not yet leaked into the papers. The full details of the archaic inheritance laws that had come into play in the country since the unexpected death of the man they had believed to be the heir to the throne. But that would also mean telling him how those laws involved him, and his reaction just a moment before had made it plain that he harboured no warmth towards the country that had once been his home.

But when he had touched her—the way he still touched her—just that one tiny contact seemed to have broken through the careful, deliberate barriers she had built around herself. It was so long since she had felt that someone sympathised; that someone might be on her side. And the fact that it was someone as strong and forceful—and devastating—as this particular man, the man who had once been a special friend to her, stripped away several much-needed protective layers of skin, leaving her raw and disturbingly vulnerable.

He was so close she couldn’t actually judge his expression without lifting her head, tilting it back just a little. And that movement brought her eyes up to clash with his. Suddenly even breathing naturally was impossible as their gazes locked, the darkness and intensity of his stare closing her throat in the space of a single uneven heartbeat.

In that moment everything that had happened in the past months rushed up to swamp her mind, taking with it any hope of rational thought. Except that right now she needed him. Needed the friend he had once been. So much about him might have changed: that hard-boned face had thinned, toughened into that of a stunningly mature male in his sexual prime; those eyes might now be five inches above hers where once they had been so much closer to her own … But they were still the eyes of the friend she had known. Still the eyes of the one person she had felt she could confide in and get a sympathetic hearing.

They were the eyes she had once let herself dream of seeing warm with more than just the easy light of friendship. And the memory of how in the past she had fallen asleep and into dreams of them being so much more than friends twisted in her heart with the bitterness of loss.

‘Tell me everything.’

‘You don’t really want that,’ she flung at him, gulping in air so that she could loosen her throat.

‘No? Try me.’

Challenge blended with something else in his tone. And it was that something else that made her heart jerk, her breath catch.

Was it possible that he really did want to know? That he might help her? Memories of their past friendship surfaced once again, tugging at her feelings. She was so lonely, so dragged down by it all, so tired of coping with everything on her own. So wretched at the thought of what the future might bring. And here was this man who had once been the boy she adored, the friend who had let her offload her troubles on to his shoulders—shoulders that even then had seemed broad enough to take on the world. They were so much broader, so much stronger now.

Tell me everything, he’d said, and as he spoke the hand that rested against her face moved slightly, the pressure of his fingers softening, his palm curving so that it lay over her cheek, warm and hard and yet gentle all at the same time.

‘The truth, Ria,’ he said and the sound of her name on his lips was her weakness, her undoing.

Unable to stop herself, she turned her face into his hold, inhaling the scent of his skin, pursing her lips to press a small, soft kiss against the warmth of his palm.

Instantly everything changed. Her heart seemed to stop, her breathing stilled. The clean, musky aroma of his body was all around her, the taste of his flesh tangy on her tongue. It was like taking a sip of a fine, smoky brandy, one that intoxicated in a moment, sending fizzing bubbles of electricity along every nerve.

She wanted more. Needed to deepen the contact. Needed it like never before.

The boy who had been her friend had never made her feel like this; never made her pulse race so fast and heavy, her head spin so wildly. In all her adolescent dreams she had never known this feeling of awareness, of hunger. A pulsing, heated adult hunger that grew and sharpened as he moved his hold on her, taking her chin and lifting it so that their eyes clashed and scorched. Something blazed in these black depths, creating a golden glow that had more heat than an inferno and yet was almost—almost—under control.

‘Ria …’ he said again, his tone very different this time, his voice roughening at the edges. He had moved closer somehow, without her noticing, and the warmth of his breath on her skin as he spoke her name sent heated shivers running down her spine, making her toes curl inside her neat, polished shoes.

‘Alex …’

But speaking had been a mistake. It made her mouth move against his skin, brought that powerfully sensual taste onto her tongue once again, so that she swallowed convulsively, taking the essence of him into herself in an echo of a much more intimate blending. Immediately it was as if a lighted match had been set to desert-dry brushwood. As if the tiny flicker that had been smouldering deep inside from the moment that she had come face to face with him again in his office had suddenly burst into wild and uncontrollable flame, the force of it moving her forward sharply, close up against him.

She heard his breath hiss in between his teeth in an uncontrolled response that both shocked and thrilled her. The thought that he felt as she did, so much that he was unable to hide his response from her, made her head spin. She could hardly believe that it could be possible, but there was no denying the evidence of the way that his grip tightened on her chin, hard fingers digging into her skin as he lifted her face towards his with a roughness that betrayed the urgency of his feelings.

‘Alex …’ she tried again, trying to follow the safe, the sensible path and persuade him to stop, but realising as she heard her own voice that she was doing exactly the opposite. The quaver on his name sounded so much more like shaken encouragement.

But a moment later it didn’t matter what she said or how she said it. The truth was that she was incapable of any further speech as Alexei’s dark head swooped down, his mouth capturing hers in a savage kiss. Hard lips crushed hers, bringing them open to the invasion of his tongue in an intimate dance that made her knees weaken so that she swayed against him, her body melting soft and yielding against the hardness of his.

She heard him mutter something dark and deep in his throat and the next moment she was swung round and up into his arms. Half-walked, half-carried across the room, his mouth never leaving hers, until she was hard up against the wall, its support cold and hard against her back. Both thrilled and shocked by his unexpected response, she shivered under the impact of his powerful form on her, the heat and hardness of him crushed against the cradle of her pelvis. If she had needed any further evidence of the fact that his blood was burning as hot as hers, then it was there in the swollen, powerful erection that was crushed between them.

His mouth was plundering hers, his tongue sweeping into the innermost corners, tasting her, tormenting her. The heated pressure of his hands matched the intimate invasion of his mouth, hot, hard palms skimming over her body, burning through the flowered cotton of her dress, curving over the swell of her hips, cupping her buttocks to pull her closer to him. Ria’s blood pounded at her temples, along every nerve. Her breasts prickled and tightened in stinging response, nipples pressing against the soft lace of her bra, hungry for the feel of those wickedly enticing fingers against her flesh.

Unable to stop herself, she nipped sharply at his lower lip, catching it between her teeth and taking his gasp of response into her mouth with the taste of him clear and wild against her lips. Pushed into penitence by his reaction, she let her tongue slide over the damaged skin, soothing the small pressure wounds her teeth had inflicted and sucking the fullness of it to ease away any soreness. But the low growl she heard deep in his throat told her that his reaction had not been one of discomfort. Instead he was encouraging her to take further liberties, crushing her hard against him and letting his hands wander freely over her yearning body.

‘Hell, but you’re beautiful …’

He muttered the words against her arching throat, his breath warm against her flesh, and she could hardly believe that she was hearing them. Had he truly said beautiful? Was it possible that the man the gossip columns labelled the playboy prince, who had his pick of the sexiest women in the world—socialites, models, actresses—could think her so attractive? Memories of the adolescent dreams she had once indulged in, the yearning crush she had felt for this man surfaced all over again, reminding her of how much she would have given to hear those words back then, years ago. Then all he had ever shown her was a kind, but rather offhand friendship that was light-years away from this carnal hunger that seemed to grip them now.

‘Who would have thought that you would grow up like this?’

‘It—it’s been a long time,’ Ria managed to choke out, her throat dry with tension and need. ‘I missed …’

But a sudden rush of self-preservation had her catching up the words in shock, clamping her mouth tight shut against what she had almost revealed. The heady rush of sensuality had driven common sense so far from her mind but she needed to grab it back now—and quickly. Alexei was no longer even her friend. He was the man who held her future and that of her country in his hands, even if he didn’t know it yet.

In the strong, sensual hands that had been creating such electric pulses of pleasure in her body only a moment before. Pulses she wanted to feel more of. That made her whole body ache with need. But she must deny herself such caresses even though her whole body screamed in protest at the thought of stopping now, here, like this, when every nerve had suddenly come alive and awake in a whole new way. She had to remember why she was here.

‘You—you’ve been missed,’ she managed, though her voice shook on the words, betraying the effort she was making to get them out. And then, suddenly aware of how that might sound—that he could interpret it as meaning she was telling him just how much she had missed him—she rushed on. ‘You’ve been missed in Mecjoria.’

The sound of that name brought exactly the reaction she feared. She felt the new tension in the long body pressed against hers as he stilled, withdrawing from her immediately, his hands freezing, denying her the shivers of pleasure that had radiated out from his touch.

‘I doubt that very much,’ he muttered, his voice rough and harsh so that it scraped over her rawly exposed nerves. ‘I don’t think that could ever be true.’

‘Oh, but it is!’ Ria protested, forcing herself to go on because this was what she had come here for after all. ‘You’re missed in Mecjoria—and wanted and needed there.’

‘Needed?’

Her heart sank as he pushed himself away from her to stand looking down into her face with icy onyx eyes, all fire, all warmth fading from them in the space of a heartbeat. She had done what she needed to do, turned things back on to the real reason why she was here, so that at last she could tell him just why she had come to find him. But she felt lost and alone, her body suddenly cold and bereft without the heat and power of his surrounding it; her skin, her breasts, her lips cooling sharply as the imprint of his whipcord strength evaporated into the cool of the afternoon air.

She’d lost him again. That much was obvious from one swift glance at his face, seeing the way it had closed off against her, black eyes opaque and expressionless, revealing nothing. His only movement was when his hand went to his throat, tugging at the tie around his neck as if it was choking him. He pulled it loose, flicked open the top button on his shirt, then another, as if just one was not enough. And the restless movement was enough to draw her eyes, make her watch in stunned fascination.

No, that was a mistake—a major mistake. Looking into those deep-set black eyes, she suddenly saw a new light, a darkly burning, disturbing light in their depths, and it warned that there was more to this than anything she might have anticipated already. Memory swung her back to the scene of just moments before. Then, pinned up against the wall with his hands hot on her, she had known exactly what he wanted. And she had been dangerously close to giving it to him, with no thought of her own sanity or safety. Her body still tingled with the aftershocks of that encounter, the taste of him still lingered on her mouth. If she licked her lips she revived the sensation, almost as if he had just kissed her again. And oh, dear heaven, but she wanted him to kiss her again.

‘There is no one there who would miss me and as for anyone who might want me for any reason whatsoever …’

‘Oh, but you’re wrong there. You really are.’

But how did she convince him of that? If there was anything that brought home to her how difficult her task was then this office, this building, was it. She didn’t need to be told how much Alexei had made his new life here in England. More than a new life, his fortune, his home. And it was plain from the way he spoke of Mecjoria that his father’s country meant nothing to him. Did she even have the right to ask him to give this up?

She didn’t know. But the one thing she was sure of was that she didn’t have the right to keep it from him. The decision, whatever it was, had to be his.

‘I’ll make it easy for you, shall I?’ Alexei drawled cynically. ‘Twice now you have told me that I am wanted—and needed—in Mecjoria. You have to be lying.’

‘No lie. Really.’

‘You expect me to believe that I am needed in the country that rejected me as not fit to be even the smallest part of the royal family? Needed by the place that has disowned and ignored me for the past ten years?’

The only response Ria could manage was a sharp, swift nod of her head. She couldn’t persuade her voice to work on anything else.

‘Then you’ll have to explain. Needed as what?’

‘As …’

Twice Ria opened her mouth to try to get the words out. Twice she failed, and it was only when Alexei turned his narrow-eyed glare on her and muttered her name as if in threat that she forced herself to speak, bringing it out in a rush.

‘As—as their king. You’re needed to take the throne of Mecjoria now that Felix is dead.’

CHAPTER FOUR

AS THEIR KING.

The words hit like a blow to the head, making Alexei’s thoughts reel. Had he heard right?

You’re needed to take the throne of Mecjoria now that Felix is dead.

Whatever else he had expected, it had not been that. She had made it plain that she and her family had suffered some strong reversal of their fortunes in the upheaval that had followed the struggles over the inheritance of the Mecjorian crown. She had come here to ask for help, that much was obvious. Softening him up by producing the proof of his legitimacy first. Perhaps to play on the fact that they had once been friends in order to get him to use his fortune to help, rescue her family. Why else would she be here?

Why else would she have responded to his kisses as she had?

Because even as he had felt her mouth opening under his, the soft curves of her body melting against him, he had known that she was only doing this for her own private reasons.

Known it and hadn’t cared. He had let her lead him on in that way because he’d wanted it. No woman had excited him, aroused him so much with a single kiss. And there had been plenty of women. His reputation as a playboy had been well earned, and he had had a lot of fun earning it. At least at the beginning. It was only after Mariette—and Belle—that everything had changed. His mind flinched away from the memory but there was no getting away from the after-effects of that terrible day. His appetites had become jaded; his senses numbed. Nothing seemed to touch him like before. There was no longer the thrill of the chase.

Not that he had to do any chasing. Women practically threw themselves at him and he could have his pick of any of them simply by saying the right word, turning a practised smile in their direction. He was under no illusions; he knew it was his position and wealth that was such a strong part of the attraction. That and the bad-boy reputation that haunted him like a dark shadow. So many women wanted to be the one who tamed him. But not one of them had ever stood a chance. He had enjoyed them, shared their beds, sometimes finding the oblivion he sought in their arms. But not one of them had ever heated his blood, set his pulse racing in burning hunger as this one kiss from the former friend he had once known as a young girl, but who had grown into a stunningly sexual woman.

A woman who, like so many others, had been prepared to use that sexuality to persuade him to give her what she wanted.

But this …

‘That’s one hell of a bad joke!’ He tossed the words at her, saw her flinch from the harshness of his tone and didn’t care.

But then something about the way she looked, a widening of those amazing eyes, the sight of white, sharp teeth digging into the rose-tinted softness of her lower lip caught him up short and made him look again, more closely this time. There was more to this than he believed.

‘It was a joke, wasn’t it?’

A bad, black-humorous joke. One meant to stick a knife in between his ribs with the reminder of just how his father’s homeland could never, ever be home to him again. Even if he was the legitimate son of one of their royal family. Disbelief was like an itch in his blood, making him want to pace around the room. Only the determination not to show the way she had rocked his sense of reality kept him still, one hand on the big, carved mantelpiece, the other tightly clenched into a fist inside the pocket of his trousers.

‘A very bad joke … no …?’

She had shaken her head as he spoke, sending the auburn mane of her hair flying around her face. But it still couldn’t conceal the way she had lost even more colour, her skin looking like putty, shocking in contrast to the wide darkness of her eyes and the way that the blush of colour flooded to where she had bitten into her lip again.

‘No joke—’ she stammered, low and uneven. ‘It’s not something I’d ever joke about.’

How she wished he would show some sort of reaction, Ria told herself. His stillness and the intent, fixed glare were becoming seriously oppressive.

‘But there’s no way you can be telling the truth. How would your father benefit from this?’

‘My—my father?’

It would have the opposite effect, if only he knew. Her father wouldn’t benefit from this, rather he would gain so much more from the back-up plan that would fall into place if Alexei refused the request she had come to him with. But she had promised herself that she would not tell Alexei that; that she would never use the dark reality of her own situation to try to persuade him into the decision she wanted—needed. Her family had committed enough crimes against his in the past. It was going to stop here, no matter what the result.

But she had hesitated too long. That, and her stammering response, had given her away.

‘Your father must hope to get exactly what he wants from this.’ It was a flat, cruel statement. ‘Why else would he send you here?’

How did he manage to stay so still, so stiff, his eyes dark gleaming pools of contempt? He looked like a jewel-eyed cobra, silent, unmoving, just waiting for the moment to strike.

‘My father wasn’t the one who sent me, but obviously whatever you decide will affect him. And everyone in Mecjoria.’

‘And I should care about that because …?’

‘Because if you don’t then the whole country will fall into chaos. There will be civil unrest, perhaps even revolution. People will be hurt—killed—they’ll lose everything.’

The desperation she felt now sounded in her voice but it was clear that it had no effect on that flinty-eyed stare, the cold set of his hard jaw.

‘And if you don’t take the throne, the only other person who can is Ivan.’

That hit home to him.

She saw his head go back, eyes narrowing sharply at that, and knew the impact her words had had. Only very distantly related, Alexei and Ivan Kolosky had always detested each other. In fact Ivan had once been one of the ringleaders in making Alexei’s life hell as he tried to adjust to life at the Mecjorian court, and they had once bonded together against this cousin several times removed who now was the only other possible heir to the Mecjorian throne.

With one proviso. One that affected her personally in a way that made her stomach curdle just to think of it. And she certainly didn’t want Alexei to know of it or she would be putting extra power into his hands. Power she had no idea just how he would use.

‘How would he be next in line to the succession?’

‘There are ancient laws about the possible heirs. With both the old king and Felix gone, they have to look further afield. And with no one who’s a direct descendant left then the net spreads wider—to you.’

‘And to Ivan.’

It was throwaway, totally dismissive, and it warned her of just what was coming. The indifferent shrug of his shoulders only confirmed it.

‘So, problem solved. You already have an heir—one who will want the throne much more than I ever would. You wouldn’t even need to prove his legitimacy.’

The bitterness that twisted on his tongue made her wince in discomfort.

‘But Ivan isn’t the first in line. It’s only if you refuse the crown that he has a claim.’ Or if she played her own part in his succession as her father wanted. The knots in her stomach tightened painfully at the thought. ‘And we can’t let him take the crown!’

That had him turning a narrow-eyed stare on her shocked and worried face. It was so coldly, bleakly assessing that it made her shift uncomfortably where she stood. She was afraid that he would see her own fears in her expression and know that that gave him an advantage to hold over her.

‘We?’ he queried cynically. ‘Since when was there any “we” involved in this?’

‘You have to consider Mecjoria.’

‘I do? I think you’ll find that I don’t have to do anything—or have anything to do with a country that was never a home to me.’

‘But you must know all about the eruminium … the mineral that has been discovered in the mountains,’ she explained when he made no response other than a sardonic lift of one black brow that cynically questioned her assertion. ‘You’ll know that it’s being mined …’

‘An excellent source of wealth for my cousin,’ Alexei drawled, lounging back indolently against the wall in a way that expressed his total indifference to everything she said.

‘But it’s what it could be used for—eruminium can be used to make weapons almost as dangerous as an atomic bomb. Ivan won’t care what it’s used for—he’ll sell the mining rights to anyone for the highest offer.’

Something flickered in the depths of those stunning eyes. But she couldn’t be sure whether it was the sort of reaction that might help her or one that displayed exactly the opposite.

‘And you actually concede that I might not do just the same?’

‘I have to hope that you wouldn’t.’

Ria no longer cared if her near-panic showed in her voice. Nothing about this meeting was going as she had thought—as she had hoped. Everyone had told her that all she had to do was to talk with Alexei, get him to listen to reason. He would grab at the position, the crown, they had assured her. How could he not when it offered him the wealth and power he must want?

Anyone who thought that had never seen the man Alexei had become, she told herself, looking at the elegantly lean and dangerous figure opposite her. It was obvious that Alexei Sarova had everything he wanted right here.

And, worst of all, was any suggestion that his taking the crown would do anything to help her, as her father’s daughter, would just provide the death blow to any hope of persuading him to do so. The hatred that burned bone-deep was not going to be easily tossed aside.

‘Only hope?’ His question seemed to chip away layers of her protective shell, leaving gaping holes where she most needed a shield. ‘Well, what else should I have expected?’

There was something that burned in those deep, black eyes that challenged and scoured across her nerves all in the same moment. But there was something else mixed in there too, something she couldn’t begin to interpret.

‘I can’t say for sure, can I? After all, I don’t know you.’

‘No,’ Alexei drawled, another challenge, darker than ever. ‘You don’t.’

‘But I do know that if the problem of the succession isn’t solved soon then the whole country will fall into chaos—possibly even revolution. You have to see that.’

‘And I see that your father will find it very uncomfortable if that happens. But I don’t understand why I need to have any part in helping to deal with it. Your father betrayed mine—his memory—by claiming that his marriage to my mother had never been legal. That was when he wanted someone else to be on the throne—and for himself to have the strongest influence possible.’

The words seemed to strip away a much-needed protective layer of skin, leaving Ria feeling raw and painfully exposed. Deep inside she knew she couldn’t defend her father from Alexei’s accusations, and the truth was that she didn’t want to. In fact, she could add more to the list if she had the chance.

‘He destroyed my mother, took everything she had and threw her out of her home, the country.’

And her son with her, Ria acknowledged to herself, wincing inwardly at the cruelly sharp twist at her heart that the memory brought with it. Like everyone else, she’d believed her father’s claims. She’d believed that he was loyal to the crown and to the country. She’d trusted him on that, only to find that all the time he had just been feathering his own nest, and planning on using her as his ace card if he could. But that had been before she had discovered that Gregor had held the document of permission all the time. That he had hidden it in order to get Alexei and his mother away from the court. Only now did she realise exactly why.

‘But you’ve done fine for yourself since then.’

‘Fine?’

One dark brow lifted in cynical mockery as he echoed her tone with deliberate accuracy.

‘If you mean working every hour God sends to earn enough to support my mother and keep her in the way that she needed, give her some comfort and enjoyment when she was desperately ill, then yes, we’ve done “fine”. But that in no way excuses your father for what he has done or puts me under any obligation at all to help him with anything.’

‘No—no you’re not,’ she admitted. ‘But don’t you think that you might have played some part in what had driven him to push you into exile and kept you there afterwards?’

‘And what exactly do you mean by that?’

The silence that greeted her question was appalling, dark and dangerous, bringing her up sharp against what she had said. What she had risked.

Oh, dear heaven, she had really opened her mouth and put both feet right in it there! All she had meant was that it had been his own irresponsible behaviour, the wildness of his ways, that had contributed to her father’s reaction against him and his family. But now she had opened a very ugly can of worms, one she could never put the lid back on ever again. Alexei’s behaviour at court had been one thing. There had been another, darker scandal that had cast a black shadow over his existence once he had settled in England.

‘No—I’m sorry. Obviously …’

‘Obviously?’ Alexei echoed cynically. ‘Obviously you think you know the answer to your question so why ask it?’

‘I didn’t mean to rake over the past.’

‘You would be wise not to—not if you want me to do anything to help your father, because I’ll see him in hell first.’

And that cold-blooded declaration was just too much. It wrenched the top off her control, taking her temper with it.

‘Well, you’ll be right there with him—won’t you?’ she flung at him. ‘After all, what has my father done that compares with letting his baby die?’

It was as if the whole room had frozen over. As if the air had turned to ice, burning in her lungs and making it impossible to breathe. The cold was like a mist before her eyes but even with the swirling haze she could still see the blaze of his eyes, searing through the blurring clouds and scouring over her skin like some brutal laser.

‘What indeed?’

She’d gone too far, said too much, and put herself in danger by doing so. Not physical danger because, no matter how darkly furious she knew that Alexei was, she also had a fiercely stubborn conviction that there was no way he would hurt her.

But mentally … that was another matter entirely. And just the thought of it had her taking several hurried and shaken steps backwards, away from him, putting the width of the polished wooden desk between them for her own safety.

‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that.’ The image of the jewel-eyed serpent was back in Ria’s mind as she heard the vicious hiss of his words, felt the flicking sting of their poison. ‘There are more ways than one to destroy a child’s life.’

That brought her up sharply, blinking in shock and incomprehension as she stared into his dark shuttered face, trying to work out just what he meant. Had he known—or at the very least suspected—just what her father had planned? Was that why he had always been so aggressively hostile to the older man back in Mecjoria, so defiant, rejecting everything the Chancellor had tried to teach him? It was nothing but oppression, bullying, he had declared, and she had always come back with the belief that her father was doing it for their own good, and for the image of the country. At least that was how she had seen it at the time. Now, recognising the side of her father that had shown itself more recently, she was forced to see it in such a very different light, and the sense of betrayal was like acid in her mouth. But had Alexei, with the advantage of extra years, been able to interpret things much more accurately?