A Royal Proposition

Alastair smiled, but inside he didn’t smile at all. Their pleasure in this marriage made him feel like a traitor. Why? He’d paid for this, he thought grimly. He’d paid money for a bride. So why was he feeling like a rat?

Because they were assuming he was doing this because he loved her, he thought, and he did no such thing. In twelve months he’d walk away.

Back to Belle.

Belle would never come to dinner with sand on her nose, bare toes and a make-up-free face that glowed with happiness, he thought suddenly, watching Rose’s lovely, laughing face.

It was just as well. Belle would be a sensible, practical wife.

‘Have some lobster,’ Penny-Rose said, and handed him a claw. She seemed totally oblivious of his confusion. ‘This guy’s defending his territory even in death. I can’t get the meat out.’

That made him grin. She was in lobster up to her elbows, and her enjoyment was obvious to all. He thought back to the night she’d eaten her first snail, and he knew without asking that this was her first lobster.

‘Allow me.’ He cracked the shell with practised ease. The long, smooth sliver of meat slid free, and then, because he couldn’t resist it, he leaned forward and popped it between her lips. She gazed up at him as the meat disappeared and…

And it was suddenly an incredibly sexy moment, and behind them he heard Heather snigger.

‘Um…excuse me, are we in the way?’

‘No,’ said Penny-Rose, and blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘I… Thank you.’

‘That’s quite all right.’ Alastair tried for an unflustered voice but it didn’t quite come off. ‘Cracking lobsters is one of my splinter skills. Along with swimming lessons.’

And he badly wanted to do it again. Pop a little more lobster between those lips… In fact, he wanted to desperately. But Rose was pushing her plate away decisively.

‘Swimming’s worse than stone-walling,’ she said, and her voice sounded even more flustered than he was feeling. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘But there’s meringue for dessert.’ Mike couldn’t believe that she could leave, and Penny-Rose turned her attention gratefully to her younger brother.

‘I’m sure you won’t have any trouble eating my share. Or Alastair will help.’ And then she caught the way Alastair was looking at her. ‘G-goodnight.’

And she fled.

Which left Alastair sitting with her sisters and brother. Who were all looking at him with an air of bright expectancy.

And he couldn’t disappoint them. Could he?

‘I guess I’ll turn in, too,’ he said, and they beamed their approval. After all, this was how honeymoons were supposed to proceed.

Help!

But he left anyway. How could he not?

Because Rose was waiting.

This bedroom arrangement was impossible.

When he got back to their cottage, Rose was already in the bathroom. She was running a bath, so there was nothing for Alastair to do but to lie on the bed and listen to her wallowing in the vast white tub.

He could imagine her so vividly she might as well have left the door open. He knew how it would be…

The bathroom was a tiny walled patio with three sheltered walls and the fourth side open to the sea. The bathtub was sunk into the decking. It had two soft headrests, and it was designed so lovers could lie side by side. They could soak in the warm water and watch the moon over the sea.

Only…one side would be empty, Alastair thought. His side. The other side would have Rose.

Rose…

He let his imagination wander. Lovely, naked Rose, slippery with soap suds, lying back, letting the salt and sand wash away from her gorgeous body. Penny-Rose lying alone in a bath built for two…

Rose! Not Penny-Rose.

Stop thinking like this! You’ll go stark, staring crazy-if you’re not already, he said desperately to himself, and took himself out for a walk.

Where could he go? If he walked around the cottage and down to their secluded cove, he’d be able to look up and see…

No. Damn, he was turning into a peeping Tom!

He strode deliberately back up to the management lodge where the kids were setting up a game of cards. From the darkness he could see them out on the verandah, laughing as they played some silly game of snap.

He couldn’t go there. What would he say?

‘Can I play, too? Your sister’s taking a bath and it’s driving me nuts!’

They’d think he was nuts. They were such nice kids. And they thought he was in love with their sister.

Which was nonsense. He wasn’t in love with anyone.

But he was definitely in lust with her.

That was it. He’d found the answer. Only lust. He just wanted her body. He was as aroused as he’d ever been in his life, and the fact that she was a virgin bride…

She was his virgin bride.

She wasn’t his anything. And she had to stay a virgin, he told himself desperately. Hell, wasn’t that why he’d married her? Because he didn’t want commitment? So it had to stay that way. The last thing he wanted was to make it hard for her to walk away.

But was he sure about what he wanted?

He knew what he didn’t want. He didn’t want commitment.

In fact, he didn’t want marriage. He’d agreed to marry Belle because his mother had wanted grandchildren, he’d quite liked the idea of kids, he’d needed a hostess and the whole thing had been sensible. That was a decent basis for a marriage. Sense.

Not lust.

So he should walk right back to his cottage, settle down on the far side of the pile of cushions and go straight to sleep.

But…he just might take a cold shower first.

A cold shower didn’t help.

Alastair returned to the cottage to find Rose glowing from the warmth of the bath. She was wearing one of those damned lingerie-type nightdresses she’d bought in Paris and she was curled into her half of the bed with the sheet drawn up to her waist.

The sheet wasn’t drawn up far enough. The nightgown was cut low over her lovely curving breasts, her curls were sprayed out over the pillow-and it was as much as he could do not to groan.

So he stood under the cold shower for a very long time. When he emerged she was lying in the half-dark. Only his bedside light was on. She was still awake, smiling up at him in the dim light as he walked around to his side of the bed.

And heaven only knew how heavy his feet felt. It was so darned hard to make himself walk around her.

This was crazy!

‘Feeling better?’ she whispered, and he managed a nod.

‘Yes. Thanks.’ But he’d lied.

‘It’s been the most gorgeous day,’ she said sleepily as he slid down under the sheet-still on his side. ‘Thank you, Alastair.’

‘Think nothing of it.’ That sounded curt. He forced himself to smile, and then flicked off the light so he wouldn’t need to hide his expression. But he could still see the curves of her in the moonlight. She was too damned close! ‘I enjoyed myself, too.’

‘You’d never seen yourself as a swimming master extraordinaire?’