The Royal House Of Karedes: Two Kingdoms. Marion Lennox

night. A prince? The son of Queen Tia and King Aegeus? As far as she’d known, he was just a man. A gorgeous, incredibly sexy, fascinating stranger whose smile, whose touch had made her breathless.

      When he’d kissed her and the kisses hadn’t been enough, when he’d touched her and those touches weren’t enough, she’d forgotten everything—that they were in a public place, that she was a moral woman, that she had never been with a man before.

      And when he’d whispered, Come with me, she had gone with him. How could she have done anything else?

      Her world had been reduced to him. To his mouth. His hands. His hard, flagrantly aroused masculinity. She still couldn’t believe she’d let such a thing happen. You didn’t sleep with a stranger. She didn’t, anyway.

      “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Is that busy little brain of yours trying to come up with an answer that will satisfy me?”

      His voice roughened. “Don’t waste your time. There’s only one thing that will satisfy me, and you know what that is.”

      What he meant was in his eyes.

      She saw it and stumbled back. He could see the beat of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. Good, he thought coldly. This time, at least, he had the advantage. Command had slipped from her hands to his and she hadn’t even heard the worst of what he’d come to tell her.

      “Get out.”

      She spoke in a papery whisper that he ignored. Instead, he turned his back and walked to her work table. Sketches were tacked to an enormous corkboard on the wall above it. Something that looked as if it had been molded from wax stood on a shelf.

      “Didn’t you hear me? I said—”

      “Didn’t you hear me?” He swung toward her, arms folded, feet crossed at the ankles. “Safir et Fils are going under.”

      “Do you expect me to weep for them?”

      “They will not be able to make the gift for my mother’s birthday.”

      Her smile was pure saccharine. “Stop at Wal-Mart before you fly home.”

      “I know you find this amusing, Maria, but it’s deadly serious. March the seventh will be an important day. My father has declared it a national holiday.”

      Again, that glittery smile. She had her composure back—but not for long.

      “There will be a ball attended by dignitaries from around the world.”

      “Yes, well if you can’t find anything you like at Wal-Mart—”

      “My parents have chosen you to execute the commission.”

      Her jaw dropped. She was speechless. Twice in one evening.

      He had the feeling it was some kind of record.

      “Me?”

      “You.” His mouth twisted. “You see, despite what I told you that night, I never mentioned your little game to either the king or the queen. I didn’t have to. My father had chosen the French jewelers. He preferred their submission.”

      Maria swallowed hard. She wanted to shriek with delight but she’d be damned if she gave him that.

      “How—how nice. To be second-best.”

      “Please. Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” Why mention that the queen had preferred her design all along? “We both know that this is the chance of a lifetime for a woman like you.”

      Her cheeks flushed again. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

      “Why, only that your name, your career will be made when word gets out, Maria. What else could it possibly mean?”

      She was sure that hadn’t been his meaning but why argue about it? The fact was, he had it right. Orders would double. They’d triple! Tiffany would give her a window display; so would Barney’s. Vogue, Vanity Fair, Allure, Elle, Marie Claire… every fashion magazine in the world would camp on her doorstep and the noxious pseudo-Frenchman would be on his knees, begging her to design for L’Orangerie.

      If only the court hadn’t sent the prince to give her the news.

      “They sent me,” Alex said, as if he’d read her mind, “because they wanted to be sure you understood the full importance of this commission.”

      “You mean,” Maria countered sweetly, “because the king thought your illustrious royal presence would impress me.” He grinned. Her gaze on him narrowed. “Too bad your father doesn’t know you as well as I do.”

      All at once, Alex was weary of the game. Why in hell had he ever thought he needed to settle scores? He was not a man who enjoyed revenge; God knew there was plenty of opportunity for it in business but he had always seen vengeance-seeking as a low sport. And payback against a woman, even one who really needed to be taught a lesson, suddenly held no appeal.

      “What’s your answer?” he said brusquely. He pushed back his sleeve, shot an impatient glance at his watch. “My pilot is standing by. Weather permitting, I want to fly home tonight.”

      Maria chewed on her lip. God, the man was arrogant. If only she could tell him what he could do with his offer, but he was right. This would jump-start her career. Nothing she could ever do would match its importance. She had to say ‘yes’, but surely there was a way to do it so she could regain her authority.

      “Very well,” she said. “I’ll accept the commission.”

      He nodded and reached into the inside breast pocket of his leather jacket.

      “Good. I have some papers here …”

      “There are certain conditions to be met,” she said as she took the documents from him.

      His dark eyebrows rose. “There are, indeed. Dates of approval. A date of completion. An agreement as to what you may and may not discuss with the media—”

      “One,” Maria said, “I work alone. If I need an assistant, that person will be of my choosing.”

      “I don’t think you understand. This agreement concerns the demands of the—”

      “Two, I’ll need some new equipment.” She smiled thinly. “Aristo’s cost. Not mine.”

      Alex’s mouth flattened. “You’re fortunate to be getting this commission, Ms. Santos. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that.”

      “Three. I do not work well with anyone watching over my shoulder. In other words, I’ll be happy to show my work, as it progresses, to the king and queen at their request—but no one else.”

      The muscle in Alex’s jaw jumped to attention. “Is that last directed at me?”

      “Four,” Maria said, raising her hand and ticking the point off on her finger, but he had stopped listening.

      Who did she think she was, this snippet of a female? He was not of the old school; nobody had to bow to him or bend a knee in a deep curtsy, well, except, of course, on formal occasions of the court, but he was entitled to the respect he had been born to as a prince, the respect he had won as a man—

      “If all those conditions are agreeable, I’ll sign your document.”

      Alex didn’t answer. He stood watching her from dark, unreadable eyes and felt the tension inside him growing.

      He had left Aristo knowing he had to deal with Maria Santos and keep his composure. Nothing more.

      Then another thought had come to him. He would bed her again. Right here. Tonight. It was he who would do the seducing this time, if not with his body then with the commission she’d so willingly sold her soul to get. He’d strip her naked, touch her everywhere, kneel between her thighs and take her again and again and again, until she was out of his system.

      A moment