The Rebel King

Chapter 5

For the second morning in a very few days, Rhia wallowed her way to consciousness to the smell of coffee, and to find Nikolas Donovan sitting on the bed beside her. This time, instead of gently caressing her face, he was shaking her. Not the least bit gently.

'Rise and shine, luv-time to get up.' His voice sounded obscenely cheerful.

She pried open one eye and said. 'It's dark!' in an outraged tone. And then gasped, cringed and covered her eyes with her hand as light stabbed them cruelly from the lamp on the table beside the bed.

'There.' Nikolas said without sympathy. 'It's not dark anymore. Come on-get up. I've brought you coffee. We've got about fifteen minutes before the trailers leave.'

'Leave? For where, in God's name? At this hour-' Oh, God, was she whining? She struggled to sit up, and Nikolas helpfully drew back the light blanket that covered her. She pulled it back up to her chin and glared in his direction without focusing. 'What hour is it, by the way?'

'Two forty-five-well, actually-' he glanced at his watch '-it's two forty-eight, now. I suggest you hurry if you want time to drink that coffee.'

She closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples, which did absolutely nothing to diminish the pounding behind them. To make matters worse, when she opened her eyes again Nikolas was still there, and. once she had him in focus, looking sinfully handsome and smiling at her like a beneficent saint. She regarded him for a moment with loathing, then said. 'Are you being deliberately cruel, or is this an aspect of your personality I wasn't briefed about?'

His laugh sent involuntary ripples of pleasure through her. It was like rubbing against fur. 'My dear, you did say you wanted to pick grapes with the crew this morning.'

She gave him a sideways look of stark disbelief. 'Impossible.'

'Sony to have to tell you this, but I heard you with my own ears. So did Phillipe and most of the crew.'

'I couldn't have…could I? When?'

'Hmm…let's see. It was after your third glass of marc, I believe-or perhaps it was the fourth-I'm afraid I lost track. Anyway, the crew was very much impressed with you. If you back out now, you're going to suffer an enormous loss of face.'

Rhia groaned and collapsed back on the pillows, closing her eyes. 'Oh, God, Father Matthew was right.'

'Father Matthew?' Nik's voice was vibrant with rather poorly suppressed emotions-laughter, she was sure. And something else. Something that sounded a lot like-oddly-affection.

'Yeah-he was the priest in the Catholic girls' school I went to in Florida. He always told me I'd go to hell. I think this must be it.'

He made a smothered sound-definitely laughter. 'Oh, come now-it's not so bad once you get outside. Rather nice, actually.' There was a pause, and she felt the touch of something cool and soothing on her aching head- something that warmed almost instantly and became Nikolas's fingers. 'You're really not a night person, are you?' he said tenderly. 'Who knew?'

She opened her eyes and tried to glare at him, but found that her eyelids had grown inexplicably heavy. 'It's not night,' she mumbled, 'it's morning. Dark, pitch-dark morning.' Her tongue felt heavy, too, and her lips seemed to have swollen. She had a powerful desire, now to press them into the nice warm palm that was cradling the side of her face. 'I've always been a night person, actually. My nights have only become an ordeal since I met you.'

'It doesn't have to be that way, you know.' The pad of his thumb brushed gently across her swollen lips, but instead of soothing them, set them on fire. The heat and heaviness began to spread…like melting molasses…into her arms…her legs…her body. Her breasts felt tight, and even the kiss of silk and lace was more than her sensitized nipples could bear.

'You do know,' Nikolas murmured, 'if it weren't for this unfortunate hang-up you have about my allegedly royal blood, you and I would be lovers by now.'

Her heart stuttered and her stomach wallowed drunkenly- roughly the way those parts of her had behaved the first time she'd jumped out of an airplane during her training for the Lazlo Group job. Now, as then, pride made her catch a breath and fight valiantly against the panic. 'You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?' There… tart, and not too breathless.

His reply was wordless. He simply leaned down and kissed her.

In some buried, weakened part of herself, had she been expecting it? In that same part of herself she'd definitely wanted it. When she felt his warm lips pillow against hers, she uttered a single whimpering cry…and opened to him.

And then she was in free fall, the wind rushing so hard against her face she couldn't breathe. Fear gripped her, and then exhilaration. I've got to stop this! I have to stop…

But she couldn't stop. And in the end, after she thought she must surely have passed the point of no return, it was Nikolas who pulled the ripcord. 'Yes,' he murmured, with his lips still touching hers, 'I am.'

His lips moved, then…along her jawline, riding on the velvety cushion of his sweet, warm breath. Her breasts grew heavier, each breath lifting them intolerably against the chafing fabric of the silk-and-lace camisole she'd slept in, making them yearn for the touch of his fingers instead.

Fighting it. she said in a desperate rush, 'It's not just your ancestry-it's my job…Nik. My job-oh, damn.'

His mouth found the hollow below her jaw, slid, hot and open, along the side of her neck. She moved her head-didn't want to…couldn't help it-moved it to give him better access to the sensitive places there, the places where her pulses thumpety-thumped like the jazz beat pouring from a Bourbon Street bar. Her fingers ached with the struggle to keep from burying themselves in his hair.

'Your job doesn't need to know what happens between us here,' he whispered against her singing flesh.

'I'll know.' It came on a gasp…or maybe a sob.

Nikolas let go of a breath and fought his way out of the whirlpool of desire like a diver struggling toward the light. He knew he had no business being angry-and he wasn't. He'd had no business doing this in the first place-he knew that, too. At least, not now. Although…someday, someday soon…

He pulled away from her swiftly, the way he'd tear off a bandage or pull out a tooth-because it was less painful that way. Brushing her warm, moist cheek with the backs of his fingers, he said lightly, 'You're unusually dedicated to your job, aren't you?' Or is it your employer you feel such loyalty to? He wanted to say it, but didn't. He wasn't a jealous man-or never had been. So why was it he felt a sudden urge to strangle a man he'd never met?

'I am,' Rhia said in a voice that was flat and slightly thickened. She sat up and drove both hands, fingers spread wide, into her hair. Holding her head between her hands, she uttered a small and somewhat surprised, 'Ow.'

'Hangover?' Nikolas inquired, feeling like a wretch.

She nodded carefully 'A wee one, yeah.' And he could see her girding herself, and her willpower inarching out to do battle with her human frailties. After a moment she drew herself up, pinched the bridge of her nose between a thumb and forefinger, pulled in a long breath and opened her eyes. She reached for the cup of coffee he'd placed on the bedside table, sipped, than lifted her head and leveled a determined look at him. A steady green look from under thick black lashes. 'I owe Corbett Lazlo a lot. I'd hate like hell to let him down.'

'Ah.' Nikolas said. 'I see.'

She shook her head and set the coffee back on the table. 'No, I don't think you do.' Throwing back the bedclothes, she pulled her knees up and swiveled them past him so that, for one heart-stopping moment, she was sitting beside him on the bed, with her smooth, sleek thigh touching his, and her body's warmth and musky feminine scent wafting over him. clouding his senses.

While he was still fighting the effects of her nearness, she rose and walked unselfconsciously to the bathroom, and his gut clenched as his gaze followed her. Buttocks…firm and rounded, solid muscle under a delicate veneer of feminine softness, scarcely disguised at all by the skimpy panties she wore. Long, taut legs and a stride of confidence and an athlete's unstudied grace. When the bathroom door closed behind her. he released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, then laughed silently at himself for his heart-pounding, sweaty schoolboy's lust.

When she emerged from the bathroom moments later, he had himself in hand… somewhat. It helped that she looked like a well-scrubbed teenager, with her hair in damp strands around her face and her eyes struggling to