Fit for a King (9 page)

68

Diana
Palmer

Fit for a
King

69

"Yes.
It must have been. We'll forget it hap
pened."

"That
might be best," she said lightly, forcing her
self not to show the
disquiet she felt.

"You
don't need to make it sound so damned
easy," he said, unreasonably irritated and finding
himself on the verge of spewing out exactly what
he'd
wanted to keep silent about, yet
unable to stop him
self. His
self-control was shot. "Do you know how
much I want to lay you down
in the sand and have
you? Do you?" he
demanded harshly. "And because of that, you'd better stay away from me
until I get
myself together."
Hurting, and lashing out because of
it,
he straightened to deal the killing blow. "Because
anything I did right now would be because of
Bess—
wanting Bess—and you'd better
remember it."

It was a
lie—he was too confused to know his own mind right now—but he reasoned that
enough people
stood to get hurt by Bess's recent interest in him, and
he didn't want Elissa to become a casualty, too. Anything—anything at all—that
would keep her at arm's
length would ultimately be for her own good. She
didn't need to compromise her innocence because of
his confused longings. So he'd have to be cruel to be kind, even though she
wouldn't realize it right now.
Someday,
however, she'd thank him for what must
seem
like callous behavior.

She
clenched her teeth. He hadn't exactly shocked
her with the
admission—she'd suspected she'd been

a stand-in for
Bess—but had he needed to be so blunt? "Then I'll say good night."

"Say
it, and go inside." He jammed his hands into his pockets.

"What
a sweet-tempered man you are," she mut
tered. She turned to unlock the door, then
glared at
him over her shoulder as she went
inside. "Thanks for a lovely evening. I did so enjoy it."

He glared back. "Including
the way you threw
yourself at me back
there?" he asked with a cold,
mocking smile, pushing her that last
step.

He was
asking for a hard slap. She tried to remem
ber that he'd been drinking, but all she
wanted to do
was push him into a coral reef
and whistle for a pass
ing shark!
"I was drinking," she admitted, "and so
were you."

"Well, I won't make the
same mistake with you
again," he
returned coldly. "Obviously you can't
hold your liquor." He didn't know why he was goading her—why
didn't he let her go inside, where she'd
be safely away from him?

"Said the pot to the
kettle!" she threw back, fum
ing.
"You were the one who started it!"

"You weren't fighting very hard," he pointed
out.

She
clenched her fists. "Next time you need help
with your love life,
find another pigeon. I'm not play
ing second fiddle to you and your
sister-in-law!"

"Stop shouting," he grumbled.

"I'll shout if I like. And I want my bird back!"

70

Diana Palmer

Fit for a
King

71

"When he's well, with my blessing," he shot
back.

Her lower
lip trembled. She was near tears. With
her fists clenched
at her sides, she felt herself shaking with mingled rage and frustration. Here
she was yell
ing things she didn't mean but couldn't help saying, and
she didn't know what to do about it. She'd never felt like this before, and she
didn't even understand
what was wrong.

"I
hate you!" she wailed.

He took
his hands out of his pockets and moved
close, cupping her
head in his lean fingers, holding
her firmly. "Do you, Elissa?"
That's what he'd
wanted, wasn't it? To protect her from himself? But
as he
gazed down into her wide, glistening eyes, he
felt a wave of
emotion crash over him, engulfing him
in frustrated desire. He was only
human, after all.

"In lieu
of a cold shower..." he said under his
breath, and he bent
his head.

Elissa's
mouth felt bruised from the sheer force of
his hard lips, and he
didn't spare her. His mouth lifted
for an instant, only to come down
again more inti
mately, his tongue pushing into her mouth, his fingers
biting
into her to tilt her head and give him better
access to her lips.

She
moaned, and he caught his breath. "Open your mouth," he ground out,
his hands at her throat, lifting,
coaxing. "Oh, God, Elissa, open
your mouth...."

She did,
shuddering as he deepened the kiss. Her
knees weakened and
threatened to collapse, but the

instant her body
relaxed against the rigid strength of
his, he seemed to come to his senses.
His lips lifted
slowly, delicately probing, brushing. He felt her
breasts,
so smooth and hard tipped, press against him,
saw her expression
soft with confused desire. Elissa.
He blinked, his mind in limbo. He
wanted her. His
body ached to have hers, to press it into the soft sand
beneath
his, to feel her skin warm and welcoming
under his hands....

Elissa...
He cursed under his breath and stopped abruptly, feeling outraged at his lack
of control. He
hadn't meant for this to happen. That damned Scotch!
What was
he doing? He went rigid and suddenly all
but threw her away
from him.

"Was
that what you wanted?" he demanded, want
ing to hurt, to make
her pay for that lapse in his control. "Now you know, so go inside,
little girl. You'll
have to get the rest of your experience with someone
else. I
don't initiate virgins."

She
swallowed. He wasn't making any sense at all;
he was being totally
erratic. His fists clenched, and
she saw the shudder ripple through his
powerful body.
Too much to drink, her mind registered. Dangerous.

"Who
asked you to?" she shot back. She hated
him. She hated him!
With shaking hands she opened
the door, went inside and slammed it behind
her,
locking it, as well. Outside she heard a harsh muttered curse.

She
collapsed against the wall with an unsteady

72

Diana
Palmer

Fit for a
King

73

sigh. She hadn't
expected that. As a matter of fact,
about the
last
thing she'd
expected after his outburst
was for him to kiss her. He'd never kissed
her before
tonight. Come to think of it, they'd never argued before.
She felt a lump in her throat as she realized that
she'd just lost a
good friend and she didn't even un
derstand why.

His
footsteps died away, and all she heard was the gentle wind off the Caribbean.
She touched her lips,
feeling their swollen fullness with wonder. Her
tongue touched them and tasted him.

It all
seemed like a dream. For some reason King
had stepped
completely out of character, and for that
matter, she had,
too. But none of it made any sense.
Surely if King were pining away for
his sister-in-law,
he wouldn't be capable of that kind of passion with
another woman. Or would he? She cursed her igno
rance of men and
their basic makeup.

Trying to
sort things out, she concluded that if King
needed to use her as
a shield, he must have some kind of special feeling for Bess. The tender look
in
his eyes when he'd gazed at his sister-in-law had afforded Elissa a
rare glimpse behind the mask of cool reserve King usually wore. Apparently,
Bess had al
ways been special to him, and now, maybe for the
first
time, he was confronting her in a new way—as a desirable woman, not just as a
relative.

Elissa
sighed, remembering with guilt her own de
licious abandon in
King's arms. She was sure the

drinks had influenced
her. They'd obviously influ
enced him, too. She went into her bedroom and
flicked on the light, quietly removing the jump
suit
and putting on a long, plain
cotton nightgown. King
had reminded
her that anything he did to her would
be
only out of desire for Bess. Was that completely
true? she wondered. There were so many puzzles
now. Their uncomplicated friendship had turned
into a mental wrestling match.

She
brushed her long hair and crawled into bed.
But once she turned
out the light, she could feel all
over again the warmth of King's lips
on hers, his
tongue pushing into her mouth in a kiss unlike any
she'd ever
experienced. She felt her face go hot as
she remembered just
how involved he'd gotten. And he'd accused
her
of throwing herself at
him!
Incredible, how much his sharp words had hurt. Of course,
she'd been
spared his temper for the past two years.
She might never have
seen it if he hadn't made such a blatant pass at her in the first place. Men!

Well, her
sexy nightie was still lying on his bed,
she remembered; she
hoped it gave him nightmares.
She rolled over and closed her eyes,
counting waves and praying for sleep. You can just hold your breath
until I do
you another favor, King Roper, she thought
furiously.

Fit for a
King

75

In her wild and confusing dreams, Elissa
felt King's
hands caressing her, molding
her curves, teaching her
new
movements, new sensations. She could see his
face taut with passion,
feel the ripple of his muscles
as he began a
pagan rhythm with his body....

She sat
up straight in bed, drenched with sweat and
trembling from the
effects of those sensuous and dis
turbing dreams. Her own reactions
shocked her. Were
all those years of suppressing her sensuality about to
explode in her face? Last night
her old fears of inti
macy had dropped
away, and she'd felt straightfor
ward
desire for the first time in her life.

It was
the vodka, she thought stubbornly, trying
desperately to get
her delinquent emotions under con
trol. After all, how could she forget that King had accused
her of throwing herself at him?

"Sure
I did," she muttered as she went into the
living room that
overlooked the beach. "Sure I did. I
forced him to hold me
like that and kiss my..."

She swallowed, ignoring the
instant hardening of
her nipples. This was
outrageous! Where was her
pride?

She made
herself a cup of coffee and opened a packaged pastry, nibbling at it
halfheartedly as she
began to scribble ideas for new designs on her big
sketch pad. Unfortunately, nothing appealed to
her. She stayed with her work for a few minutes and then
gave up,
walking out onto her small patio. Her long
hair
and wildly colorful caftan fluttered in the eternal
breeze from the sea, and she let the sound of the
surf soothe her as she gazed appreciatively at a big sail
boat on the
horizon.

Jamaica
was the stuff of dreams, she mused. Pirate
legends and fascinating
people. Her eyes turned to
ward a distant hill, at the top of which the structure
called Rose Hall perched. If legend was fact, its
long-
ago owner, Annee Palmer, whom
the locals had
dubbed the White Witch
of Rose Hall, had murdered
three
husbands and several lovers there, in addition
to practicing voodoo and
brutalizing her slaves.

Once,
after a tour of the spooky house, Elissa had
had nightmares for
days. One night, she recalled,
she'd awakened screaming, and she'd heard a
pound
ing at her door. King, his pajama bottoms peeking out
above the
waistband of his trousers testifying to his