Royal and Ruthless. Robyn Donald

gave her skin a glow it didn’t normally have. In it she felt like someone else—a different, bolder, more confident person.

      Torn between a desire to look her best and a cowardly caution, she hesitated, fixing her gaze on the scenery as Rafiq steered the vehicle around a set of hairpin bends.

      When they’d been safely and skilfully negotiated, she asked, ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘I am,’ he said, and smiled, a slow, amused curl of his beautiful mouth that sent excitement flickering through her. ‘Colour is important here,’ he went on. ‘It seems to be a tropical thing. In cooler climates, people wear more subdued hues.’

      ‘Possibly because we have paler colouring, and vivid shades tend to wash us out.’

      ‘But not you,’ he told her with the confidence of a man who saw nothing unusual in discussing clothes with a woman.

      The crisp note of challenge in his tone brought up her chin. ‘Then I’ll wear the dress.’

      Only to stop there, because she didn’t know what to say next.

      Although he didn’t seem to be flirting with her, there was definitely an appreciative glint in the greenstone gaze when it skimmed her face before returning to the road.

      ‘Whatever you wear you will look good,’ he said almost dismissively as he guided the vehicle around another hairpin bend.

      Lexie didn’t know whether it was a compliment or a sop to her rare lack of confidence.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said spiritedly, wishing she’d dated more often, even indulged in a couple of affairs. Surely experience would have given her some idea of how to deal with him?

      Probably not, she thought with a touch of cynicism, watching the trees flash by—a coastal forest sparser than the jungle. Rafiq de Couteveille, ruler of Moraze, was no ordinary man.

      ‘The jungle reminded me of New Zealand,’ she said absently. ‘Those massive trees with their huge trunks reaching for the sky, each notch and fork filled with epiphytes—just like home!’

      ‘Rain forest looks similar the world over. I’ve seen photographs of New Zealand trees; I was most impressed with the size and the majesty—the authority—of those huge trees that grow in the north. Kauri, are they not?’

      ‘Yes. Northern New Zealand’s iconic tree, along with the coastal pohutukawa, and true lords of the bush.’

      She looked away again, longing to be safely back home, away from all this perilous beauty, the constant sensation of being watched and somehow under siege.

      Sheer imagination, of course. And although she was out of her depth with Rafiq she wasn’t green enough to take his embraces seriously, no matter how powerfully she was affected by them.

      Yes, he’d been kind—well, taking her into his home after the accident was more than simple kindness—but that didn’t mean anything. He’d probably have been just as considerate—without the kisses!—if she’d been fifty and grey-haired.

      The road straightened once they reached the fertile plains, rich with sugar cane plantations and farms where flowers grew in ribbons and rainbows of saturated colour—seductive, scented orchids, the polished brilliance of anthuriums, and the erect, surreal stems of ginger in all their bold, vibrant hues.

      Lexie let out her breath on a soft sigh. ‘This is so beautiful.’

      ‘Indeed,’ he said calmly, and sent her another sideways glance. ‘Are you tired? There is a place you might like to see a little farther on.’

      ‘I feel fine.’ An understatement if ever there was one; her mind and senses were at full stretch, intensely stimulated by his potent, compelling presence.

      He touched a button and spoke in the local language to the car in front. A few moments later he slowed the car, took a sharp intersection and headed up into the mountains again through jungle that got more and more dense as they climbed.

      ‘We are going to a lake that occupies an extinct volcanic crater,’ he told her. ‘The islanders believe it is the home of a particularly beautiful but extremely dangerous fairy, who has been known to amuse herself by seducing young men and then sending them away. They become afflicted with love for her, and drown as they try to swim back to her arms.’

      Lexie repressed an odd little shiver to ask lightly, ‘And does this happen often?’

      He sent her an amused glance. ‘Not within living memory, but that may be because most young men are careful not to go there until they are married. She isn’t interested in married men, apparently.’

      ‘You’re not afraid?’ she asked with a teasing smile, then wished she hadn’t.

      His response was sardonic. ‘Not a bit,’ he said coolly. ‘I have yet to meet a woman I’d drown for.’

      Her heart clamped tight. He was warning her off—why?

      Last night when he’d stopped their lovemaking she’d been impressed because she’d thought it meant he didn’t want just sex from her. Had she misread his consideration?

      Perhaps his blunt statement of a moment ago was intended to convey that he didn’t plan a serious relationship.

      Was there a sophisticated way to tell him flatly that she wasn’t foolish enough—even in her dreams—to have hoped for that…?

      No, she thought, mentally cringeing. But he knew that she wanted him. Last night her wild response to his kisses had shocked her into planning a retreat, but that had been cowardly. Rafiq was the first man she’d ever wanted—sexy as hell, considerate, intelligent, compelling and trustworthy.

      Who better to be her first lover?

      And Lexie made a decision—a reckless, possibly even dangerous decision—one she knew might well cause her heartbreak.

      But she also knew that, no matter the grief, she’d never regret making it. Just once in her life she’d throw away caution and follow her desires.

      It would be worth it, she thought, controlling the breath that came too rapidly. She turned her head, pretending to be contemplating the scenery, and knew that next time they kissed she’d— Well, she thought nervously, she’d let him realise that she didn’t need to be cosseted. She was a free and independent woman, and she wanted him.

      The crater lake was almost round, surrounded by thick jungle, and on one side a semi-circle of cliffs. In spite of the sunlight a faint mist hovered over it, and the only sound was bird song, faint and eerily distant.

      ‘I can see why the legend grew up,’ Lexie said, glancing around. ‘It’s a very potent place. Is the water still hot?’

      ‘No, but that mist is nearly always there.’ He looked down at her, ignoring the security car that had preceded them, and the bodyguard standing with his back turned as he swept the jungle with binoculars. ‘I imagine crater lakes are not unusual in New Zealand.’

      ‘There’s a dormant volcanic field not far from where I live, and one of the extinct volcanoes has a crater lake, with eels as thick as your arm in it.’ She gave a lopsided smile. ‘It’s an evocative place too, but that might be because by the time people have climbed its very steep sides they’re exhausted!’

      He laughed and took her elbow, steering her back to the car. ‘We must go now. I have a meeting I can’t miss tonight.’

      They had nearly reached the castle when he said casually, ‘I won’t be in for dinner tonight, but tomorrow night I know of a charming little restaurant where we can eat, if you’d like to go. The chef is a genius.’

      Hiding her disappointment, she told him, ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’

      Safely up in her room, she sighed, hugged herself, and went into the opulent bathroom to run a shower. She should, she thought, make it a cold one; for a few seconds she’d wondered whether there was any