The Rebel King

She was silent for a while, but he didn't prompt her. just listened to the river sounds and watched the setting sun paint her hair with reddish light. The wistfulness in her face as she gazed into her past made his own throat tighten with a sadness he didn't quite understand. Nostalgia, maybe? Thinking of- and lonesome for-a past he'd never had?

She let go a soft, sighing breath. 'She was miserable in Miami-wasn't happy with him. No big mystery why-she was warm-hearted and a free spirit, and he was a cold-hearted control freak. Anyway, when I was about two, she took me and ran off-went back home to her folks in New Orleans. Naturally, he followed her, not because he loved her-or me- so much. I'm sure. He's not capable of that. It was because he just couldn't stand that she'd left him. And worse, because she'd taken something that belonged to him, he thought. Me.'

She lifted her head and shook her hair back and glared at him. and there was an angry fire in her eyes. 'He was rich and powerful. In a custody fight you'd think my mama wouldn't have stood a chance, right? But you'd be wrong. She was no dummy, she filed for divorce in Louisiana, and a Louisiana judge-a Cajun judge-gave her full custody of me. My father had to go back to Miami empty-handed, and for ten years, Mama and I were as happy as could be.'

She fell silent again, and this time Nikolas didn't wait for her to pick up the thread. He shifted restlessly and sat up. 'Ten years…and then he came and got you? What did he do, take your mother back to court? Why did he wait so long to do it?'

In the golden light he could see a bitter little half smile, her only answer-then-to his second question. 'Nope, just showed up one day in his Mercedes and took me.'

'Took you? As in…kidnapped? My God. What did your mother do? Didn't she-'

'Mama wasn't home at the time, I think-' Her voice went high and then broke, startling them both. She waited a moment, fingering the little gold saxophone. 'I think she knew he was coming. I think she made sure she wasn't there when he showed up.'

Nikolas just stared at her. The question-Why?-in his mind so deafening he couldn't even say it.

She stared defiantly back at him and answered it anyway. 'Hey, I was twelve. And growing up fast, if you know what I mean.' She hunched one shoulder in a shrug that reminded him of a wounded bird. 'Maybe she felt like she wouldn't be able to handle me. Maybe she decided she wanted her freedom-who knows? I don't know if she contacted him or he contacted her, but I'm positive they made some kind of deal. Anyway-' her lips spasmed briefly, then firmed '-he came and got me, and I went to live with him in Miami. I wasn't given a choice. End of story.'

He cleared his throat and said harshly, 'Oh, I seriously doubt that. More like the end of a single chapter, and I can't wait to hear the rest. But I'm already beginning to get the gist, I think. You said you were telling me this now to explain why you aren't happy about the otherwise delightful prospect of making love with me, so I must assume it's because of this complete jackass of a father, right? He's turned you against men, or some such bilge?'

'Not all men,' she corrected. 'Just…very rich and powerful men.'

'Ah,' said Nikolas.

'And who is richer and more powerful…'

'…than a king. Yes, I see.'

Silence and purple twilight wrapped them in its gentle cocoon.

Hunched and wretched. Rhia watched Nikolas lean away from her to open the cooler. Reaching for the wine, she thought, wishing there was something a good bit stronger in that cooler-Jack Daniel's maybe. But instead he took out a shallow crockery bowl covered in plastic, and then a short fat glass jar containing something thickly liquid and amber in color. In silence, and with almost ceremonial reverence, he uncovered the bowl and opened the jar, then selected a cut section of ripe fig from the bowl and clipped it in the contents of the jar. He turned it to corral the drips, then held it out to her.

'Come 'ere,' he said softly when she looked at him askance. 'I want you to taste this.'

'What is it?' '

'Dessert. Open up.'

'Oh, Nik. I don't think I can eat another bite…' Not because she was full, but because her throat was so tight, and aching like sin. But she opened her mouth anyway, because when he smiled at her that gentle way, she'd have done anything he asked. She let him place the sticky morsel on her tongue. An incredible sweetness burst inside her mouth, figs and honey flavored with lavender and…orange blossoms. 'Oh, my God,' she murmured. 'It's delicious…heaven.' No- this is sin. Decadent…sensual…

He was already leaning toward her. He had only to lean a little farther to kiss her, and at first she could hardly distinguish the sweetness of his mouth from the honey already clinging to her lips. Then there was a blending of the two sweetnesses that seemed to turn liquid and run into every part of her, filling her to bursting with a sweetness so intense she couldn't bear it. She felt a building pressure inside her chest, a rising whimper…and just when she thought she wouldn't be able to hold it in another second, he pulled back from her, wiped his essence and the stickiness of honey from her lips with his thumb and murmured. 'I'm just a man, Rhee. Not rich, not powerful. I'm a rebel, I suppose. But definitely not a king.'

'But,' she whispered, 'you will be.'

'Unless I choose not to be.' His eyes were grave and very close to hers.

She stared back at him. Her lips felt chilled and bereft without his. with all the sweetness gone and her stomach doing cold flip-flops under her ribs. At the same time her heart was quivering eagerly, doing happy-puppy dances and crowing. Yes, oh yes! Choose not to go back! We'll run away together- or stay right here in this sunny valley among the vineyards. I will even learn to like wine!

While her head, heavy with the weight of duty and responsibility, sternly chided. Are you insane? It's your job to take him back. You must take him back. His country needs him.

Then he kissed her again, and both of those voices went silent, the only sound inside her head now the hushed and daring love words she knew she could never say.

With one hand between her shoulderblades and the other cradling her head, he slowly laid her back. His mouth followed her down, and then his body, as his hands lifted her to meet him. bringing her hard against him. and somewhere amidst the Shockwaves of pleasure rippling through her came the realization that it was the first time she'd felt the full strength and warmth of his body like this, touching, pressing all along the length of hers, without blankets or layers of clothing between.

The first time? Then why did her skin seem to know his touch already? She felt his hand slip under her top, slide rough and warm over her skin, pushing the soft, giving fabric ahead of it until it found and nested one tight and aching breast. Her breast felt so good in his hand…and so familiar…so right. She let her head drop back, baring her throat to him, offering him that and any other vulnerable part of her he cared to conquer. Complete and unconditional surrender.

Her breast lifted eagerly into his palm, and when she felt his mouth encapsule the tender tip and his tongue begin its exquisite torture, waves of desire all but overwhelmed her. She felt like a fragile shell around a liquid center…her inside sweet and melting, like honey in the sun.

She heard herself whisper-whimper-his name. Her fingers were tangled in his hair.

He took his mouth from her breast, pressed his lips briefly, warmly against hers and whispered back. 'I know…I know, luv. But not here.'

She was dazed with arousal, shivering with wanting… wanting to do anything to keep from stopping this…sick with knowing it had to stop. 'Do you really think,' she asked, her voice bumpy from the shivers, 'anybody's going to come along?'

'Probably not.' Laughing softly, he kissed the tip of her nose, then her chin, then each eyelid. 'But I know you like to be on top, and I'd hate to think what this rock would do to my tender bum.'

Then she was laughing, too, pushing furiously at him, clinging helplessly to him. tears seeping between her lashes. Wondering how she could still laugh when she was about to charge headlong into sure disaster.

The house was quiet and dark when they returned. Nikolas had expected it would be; Phillipe would be out carousing with his friends on a Saturday night and unlikely to return before morning, celebrating the end of vendange. Maman wasn't due back from Monte Carlo until