The Snow Bride: The Virgin's Choice / Snowbound Seduction / The Santorini Bride. Jennie Lucas

beneath the sunset, ethereally sexy in those little gauzy robes over a bikini. And he’d suddenly known how he would take out his frustration. How he would take both his solace—and his pleasure.

      Before he’d reached out his hand to shake her awake, he’d already decided that he would possess her. He wouldn’t force her. He just wouldn’t leave her any other choice.

      No woman could resist a seduction as gentle as a question. Once secure in the false belief that she held all the power, a woman always surrendered. Power was a heady aphrodisiac.

      And last night, Rose would have surrendered as well. If he hadn’t let her go.

      Why? He rubbed his forehead wearily. Why had he done it? Because he liked her? Because she had a good heart? Because he admired her?

      He thought again of her beauty. Of her luscious body. And his eyes narrowed.

      Next time, he would be ruthless.

      “Did you really sleep out here all night?”

      At the sound of her shy voice, he looked up to discover Rose standing awkwardly beside the hammock. She was wearing a little white cover-up of eyelet cotton and flip-flop sandals. Her face was bare and lightly tanned, her blond hair wavy and tumbling down her shoulders. She looked very young.

      “Yes,” he said shortly.

      “You didn’t have to do that, you know. You could have slept on the couch.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “I don’t bite.”

      “Maybe I do.”

      “I’m not afraid of you.”

      At her shining smile, an ache filled his chest that felt like pain.

      Morning had dawned over the beach, streaking pink across the sky over the crystalline waves. A fresh breeze blew through the palm trees overhead, causing tendrils of her blond hair to curl across her beautiful face.

      And it was then that he saw it in her face, bright as day. Rose actually cared about him.

      The realization jolted him like a kick in the gut. He climbed out of the hammock so quickly that he nearly fell.

      “Are you all right?”

      “Fine.” He straightened, irritated.

      “Why did you leave like that last night?” she persisted, in spite of the clear signals. He didn’t wish to discuss it.

      “For your own good,” he muttered.

      “What?”

      Angrily, he whirled on her. “Just leave it alone. Trust me. You slept better last night without my company.”

      She stared at him.

      “No,” she said in a low voice. “You’re wrong. I didn’t sleep at all.” Her beautiful face was heartbreakingly angelic as she whispered, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

      Their eyes met, and he couldn’t look away.

      He wanted her so badly that his whole body thrummed with it. Painfully. Single-mindedly.

      He wanted to take her right here on the deserted beach, to rip off her white cover-up in the pale pink morning, to push her naked body against the sand and kiss and suckle and taste every inch of her skin. He wanted to push himself inside her, to fill her completely, to ride her until she forgot every other lover, until she screamed his name.

      Standing before her in yesterday’s T-shirt and jeans, Xerxes held himself still. His hands clenched with the effort it took not to kiss her. “Why were you thinking about me?”

      “You try to pretend you’re selfish and cruel,” she said softly. “But I keep thinking about you and coming to one conclusion. You’re a good man.”

      He gave a low laugh, like thunder reverberating across the dark sky. “I am not good.” Something snapped inside him and he reached for her shoulders, looking down into her eyes searchingly as he whispered, “But you…you are.”

      “Oh.” She blushed. “I’m not so very good. I’ve been feeling quite stupid, actually, driving you away from your bed. The couch, I mean.”

      She was stammering, embarrassed. As if she had anything to feel guilty about, when it had been Xerxes who deliberately rented the honeymoon cottage to set the stage for easy seduction! “Don’t worry about it.” He looked down at his clothes, no longer dusty but now stiff from dried seawater. “A night beneath the stars is just what I needed.”

      She bit her lip. “Still, I feel badly. No more sleeping outside, all right? Come inside. I’ve made you some breakfast.”

      “You did?” He paused, then added dryly, “Is that supposed to be consolation, or punishment?”

      “I know how to cook!” she said, sticking out her tongue. “The spaghetti was not my fault. I thought the rice noodles would work.”

      He could feel the warmth off her body as he looked down at her. The smile slid from her face as their eyes locked, burning through him.

      “Are you sure you can trust me?” he said roughly. “To be alone with you in the cottage?”

      Looking up with big eyes, she nodded.

      “How do you know?”

      “I can feel it. Besides—” she suddenly gave him a cheeky grin “—you gave me a promise.”

      She headed toward the cottage. He stared at her for a moment, then followed her, admiring the sweet curve of her backside with every step. She was starting to fill out a bit, he noticed with satisfaction. He would enjoy continuing to fatten her up. He had the sudden image of Rose, rounded and pregnant with his child.

      Oh, my God. Sucking in his breath, he stopped in place, nearly slapping himself on the skull. What the hell madness was this?

      “This way,” she called. He hurried through the cottage, barely noticing the perfectly swept floors and gleaming kitchen as he hurried past the bedroom door and out onto the lanai. The shadowed patio was still cool in the early morning. He saw she’d set up the little table for two. Next to the coffeepot was a plate with buttered toast and a carefully cut bowl of fruit beside the flowers.

      She gave him a grin. “See? I know how to cook.”

      “Fruit and toast?”

      “I wanted Mrs. Vadi to stay home until her daughter was well.” She looked at him anxiously. “That’s all right, isn’t it? This is what I know how to make.” She gave a sudden giggle. “I know I’m a wretched cook, but I’m actually much better at cleaning than cooking. The cottage looked clean, didn’t it?”

      He dimly remembered seeing polished floors and an immaculate kitchen. He hadn’t really noticed. He never really saw the work of servants or employees, he just took the results of their labor for granted. He slowly looked at her.

      “This is your idea of a vacation?” He brushed a tendril from her face. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Rose. The way you care so much for other people. The way you try so hard to make everyone else’s life better. You never think of yourself. We’re so different. So very different.”

      He heard her intake of breath. She tilted her head, looking up at him. “We’re not.”

      Immediate defiance, typical of her. It almost made him choke a laugh. But he couldn’t. How could she believe he had anything good in his soul?

      Because she is a fool. Something he would prove to her when he seduced her, luring her into his bed for the express purpose of his own selfish pleasure, coupled with the satisfaction of causing his enemy pain. And then he would trade her.

      She reached her hand up toward his rough cheek. “You are a good man. I know you are.” Her eyes were luminous as she whispered, “Why do you do it, Xerxes? Why do you pretend to have no heart?”

      Her