By Royal Demand. Robyn Donald

shock and distrust. ‘I don’t imagine your cousin would be happy to learn that you’re holding me prisoner.’

      His expression darkened, but he said coolly, ‘I’ll worry about Alex if and when I have to.’

      ‘You’re being completely crazy!’ She tried to infuse her voice with crisp scorn. ‘And I’m not going to put up with it. Your ancestors might have been able to shut up anyone who offended them in the dungeons, but this is a different world.’

      Back held so stiffly she thought she could feel her spine cracking, she swung on her heel and set off for the door. She’d only taken two steps when he stopped her with a hand on her upper arm, one smooth, decisive movement swinging her around to face him.

      Every treacherous sense quivered at the faint, intensely masculine scent that was solely his, an evocative sexual promise that set her heart racing. Her stomach clenched as she shivered at the electricity that poured through her, destroying defences she’d been so sure would never be breached again.

      In a cracked voice she muttered, ‘Gabe, be sensible! You can’t do this!’

      ‘Who’s going to stop me? You?’ His smile was a masterpiece of cold irony.

      Before she could formulate an answer he bent his head and kissed her, his mouth demanding the response she dared not give. But although she could keep her lips clamped tightly together, she couldn’t control the spontaneous, involuntary betrayal of her body.

      Of course he understood each sensual signal. He knew her too well not to recognise the quickening pulse-rate, the heat that stung her lips and skin, the bemused, sultry droop of long lashes over dazed green eyes as she fought her reckless surrender.

      And his body reciprocated with fierce awareness, a forceful tension that sent more electricity sizzling through her. Whatever he thought of her, believed her to be, he wasn’t immune to the dangerous primal chemistry that raged between them.

      The kiss hardened into urgency, and her willpower snapped. On a muffled groan she lifted her arms and reached for him, desperate to enjoy for a few seconds more that sense of utter security she’d always felt when he’d held her, as though nothing and nobody could ever hurt her again.

      He pulled her into the powerful planes and angles of his big, lithe body, imprinting her with his need while his mouth plundered hers in a blaze of carnal pleasure.

      For a few precious moments she let herself savour the potent sensation of her breasts crushed against him, the strong arm that held her hips clamped to his. And then he lifted his head.

      Muttering something in a harsh, jagged voice, he dropped his arms and stepped back, a slash of colour along his barbaric cheekbones contrasting with the ice-blue of his narrowed eyes.

      He’d spoken in Illyrian, but the words and tone didn’t need any translation. Swallowing to ease her dry throat, she said hoarsely, ‘I couldn’t agree more. Not one of your better ideas.’ Although her lips felt tender, and her body throbbed with unappeased need, she met his eyes defiantly. ‘What were you trying to prove?’

      ‘Don’t push your luck,’ he said roughly. ‘You have no power here, Sara.’

      She shrugged and turned blindly away, only to trip over the edge of a chair. Instantly he caught her by the arm.

      ‘Are you all right?’ She didn’t answer, and his grip tightened to give her a slight shake. ‘Answer me, Sara.’

      When she winced theatrically he loosened his grip, but didn’t let her go. Adrenalin pumped through her and her muscles tightened as she weighed up her chances of getting away if she kneed him in the groin or clawed at his eyes.

      A metallic gleam in his eyes warned her that he knew what she was thinking. In spite of her fitness she had no hope of matching his lean, virile strength.

      ‘Try it,’ he invited softly. ‘Try me, Sara.’

      His words ricocheted around her brain, momentarily silencing her. Mesmerised, she stared at him while time stretched; she could sense his readiness, his formidable confidence. Tension hummed like electricity between them, taut with unspoken hunger.

      She had to get out of this! She searched for words, but when they came they were thin and ineffectual. ‘You tried me, Gabe, and condemned me without a hearing.’

      ‘I heard a pack of lies,’ he said indifferently. ‘Try me with the truth.’

      She closed her eyes, then forced them open to glare at him. ‘You wouldn’t accept the truth if it hit you in the face! Eventually you’ll have to let me go.’

      ‘Why?’

      When she stared at him he lifted a black brow and smiled.

      ‘Who would miss you?’ he asked, in a voice that sent chills scudding the length of her spine.

      ‘Don’t be so stupid! Of course I’d be missed! I have friends….’She lifted her chin and met his implacable gaze, pitiless and unforgiving as Arctic seas. ‘Besides, you don’t want me here.’

      ‘I think I’ve just shown why I might want you here, always ready, always waiting for me.’

      Shock almost robbed her of speech. He was toying with her, she thought valiantly, cruelly manipulating her with his implied threats.

      ‘Then you’ll have to kill me eventually, because when you let me go the first thing I’ll do is go to the police. And if the police here are so delighted to have their wolf back that they refuse to do anything about it, I’ll contact Interpol. And the press.’

      ‘Would anyone believe you if you tried to lay charges?’ he asked, burnished eyes opaque and unreadable. ‘No one knows why our engagement was broken; if anyone gets wind of your presence here, they’ll assume we’re trying again. Everyone loves a fairy story, and our engagement had all the right ingredients.’

      The fingers on her arm relaxed, slid down to grip her elbow; he urged her across the room, releasing her only to hand back the glass of champagne she’d abandoned.

      Sara clutched the glass as though her life depended on it. Hoarsely, she said, ‘This is the twenty-first century and you’re a modern man, not some medieval despot who can get away with murder.’

      ‘I don’t plan to murder you,’ he said with insulting patience. ‘I intend convincing you that your freedom depends on telling me where the necklace is. Once you’ve done that you can go.’ His mouth compressed into a straight line. ‘And you’ll be rich enough to do what you want, provided you keep out of my way.’

      He still had the power to hurt her so badly she could barely breathe. Goaded into defiant indiscretion, she hurled back, ‘I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more. But I don’t know where the wretched necklace is!’

      And had to cope with another of those killer silences, seething with unspoken thoughts and hidden emotions.

      When he finally spoke it was with a slight sardonic twist to his beautiful mouth. ‘Of course, if money doesn’t work there are always other ways to find out.’

      Other ways? One glance at the smouldering depths of his eyes told her what he meant. Now he knew that he could use their potent mutual attraction to seduce her.

      And he would, she thought, sickened and horrified. He hated her, but he’d make love to her because he wanted to find the necklace so badly.

      Sara panicked. Without thinking, she flung the contents of her glass into his face.

      The champagne broke against the granite angles of his face. Appalled at her stupidity, she watched him wipe the liquid away with a handkerchief.

      On a broken little gasp she muttered, ‘Oh, hell, I’m sorry,’ and set her glass down.

      Gabe balled up his handkerchief and threw it into the grate. Dispassionately he watched it burn, then smiled, and her heart shuddered.

      ‘It amuses