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for sleep. Her mind was crowded. She roamed around hoping it would clear, but all she could think about was Lysander. The bed reminded her of his cabin on the plane, where she had imagined his kiss. Her kitchen was stocked with everything to make her feel at home, but that only brought back the way Lysander had helped her to coffee and snacks at their picnic. And every time she felt her pulse speed up, she thought of his kisses …

      That moment on the palace landing felt like a lifetime ago. She had seen a side of Lysander today that was at odds with his playboy image. She liked to think her common sense might be having some influence on him, but she couldn’t ignore the obvious reason for the change in him. He’d had no time for flirting today. Both he and Alyssa had been too busy taking care of Ra’id and laughing along with him to think of anything beyond their shared interest in the little boy.

      She tried to see that as a good thing. Today could so easily be a one-off. Lysander had been taken out of his natural habitat. That might be having the same effect on him as the change in routine did with Ra’id. It gave them both more to think about than mischief. Alyssa tried to see that as a good thing, but the memory of Lysander’s eyes burning with desire for her on the night of his banquet was impossible to forget.

      She wondered what the next day would bring—more respect, or more temptation? Setting her alarm, she lay down and tried to sleep. The days were long in Rosara, but she was determined to make the most of every second of freedom.

      Everything was perfect, right down to the jug of filtered water in her bedside fridge, but she still couldn’t switch off. After what felt like hours, she gave up, untangled herself from the sheet and got out of bed. One long, cool, bubbly bath later, smelling of rose petal attar from the royal perfumier, she pulled on a thin cotton blouse and light, summer-weight trousers. Pouring herself a large glass of orange juice fresh from the palace citrus groves, she strolled out onto her balcony. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least suffer insomnia in comfort. Settled on piles of silken cushions specially designed for lounging, she gazed past tendrils of wisteria draped around the balcony rail, and down into the courtyard below.

      The night was warm, and heavy with the fragrance of citrus and jasmine. It was heavenly. She stretched her limbs luxuriously across the downy pillows. It felt so good, she needed only one thing to complete the picture. That was a glimpse of Lysander. She hoped their happy afternoon hadn’t been a one-off, but she was wary that it might have been designed to weaken her resistance to him. Her body was definitely drawn to his, but she couldn’t let that lead her astray. Instead, she fell back on fantasy. Lysander’s worldwide reputation as a playboy made him too hot for her to handle in real life, but dreaming was free. She sighed. The man was a twenty-four-carat rogue, and a genuine heart-breaker. You only had to look at him to see that.

      She smiled at the thought of his handsome face this afternoon. She had never seen him look so relaxed and happy, especially when he was showing Ra’id how to take pictures with his smartphone. Not even in all those press photographs, where he had a new woman hanging on his arm in every shot.

      It was interesting to think he might really change now he was back in Rosara … and it was safer, too. She had heard from other staff at the palace that no woman could expect to keep Lysander interested for long, but maybe that would change, too. As long as he stopped tempting her everything would be fine, although it was impossible not to wonder what it would be like to be on Lysander Kahani’s menu … Alyssa had never met any other man like him, either in looks or character. And whatever his faults, he was always a gentleman. If he wanted, Lysander could have charmed her into his bed at any time over the past few days, if he did but know it! He made her feel so special. But then, she thought, he must have honed his skill at making women feel unique on a thousand other conquests. A man like that would be an expert at playing games with hearts. Every time she felt tempted, Alyssa relived the mental torture of her breakup with Jerry all over again.

      It was supposed to keep her own heart closed to Lysander, but it didn’t work. She sympathised with him, and could understand why he was so restless. He needed some form of escape within his gilded cage, she could tell—but she didn’t dare try and find out what it was.

      Lysander couldn’t sleep. He tried paperwork. He went back to his office and shuffled documents, but it was no good. The palace had a complete movie theatre, but trying to watch films only made him feel worse. However hard he tried to distract himself, nothing worked. It couldn’t take his mind off the events of that afternoon.

      He cursed loudly. What had Alyssa done to him? He couldn’t even be truthful with himself any more. It wasn’t the picnic that had affected him so much, but her. When it came to women, he was a professional. This afternoon he had gone out of his way to act as though their kiss had been no big deal for him. He had tried to pretend it was a mistake he had already forgotten about. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Lysander enjoyed heightening his desire in any way he could. Resisting temptation was a new strategy. It was proving to be the most arousing and the most difficult thing he had ever attempted. Alyssa’s smile, the scent of rosewater on her warm skin, that little habit she had of twiddling a lock of her hair when she was thinking—details kept coming back to haunt him as night fell. Tiny things about her he hadn’t realised he had noticed seethed through his mind until he could hardly think straight. The woman was disrupting his thoughts and stealing his sleep. How was he supposed to work towards a better Rosara, with thoughts of her pressing in on him from all sides?

      This had gone far beyond a joke. No one can be allowed to get inside the mind of Lysander Kahani like this, he thought with grim determination. He had to put a stop to it as soon as possible, and, being Lysander, he knew exactly how to do it. The sooner she was in his bed, the better.

      The palace was winding down for the night. Alyssa got to her feet, knowing she should try to go back to bed. Still she lingered, enjoying the richly fragranced evening air for a few more moments. The sound of a bubbling fountain down in the quadrangle was wonderfully restful. An old apricot tree dripping with fruit scented the air with its sweetness. The evening was so quiet she could hear the soft sounds of the last few servants going off to bed. The rustle of a robe or the click of sandals on marble floors were the only human intrusions into a scene dominated by nature. A warm breeze caressed her skin, insects sang in the shadows and as always there was the scent of the roses that gave Rosara its name.

      It was heaven—and then she heard hooves clattering across cobblestones, not very far away. She listened as the sound changed, and knew the royal horses were being led in for the night. Sleep still felt so far away. The stables were close, and she couldn’t resist visiting them.

      Leaving her rooms, she padded through the silent palace. As she cut through the inner courtyard below her balcony a lighted window on the ground floor caught her eye. She saw a tall and unmistakable form pass a pair of open French doors. It was Lysander. The angle meant she couldn’t see his face, but that didn’t matter. What she saw was arousing enough. He was pacing around in bare feet, his white shirt hanging loose and unbuttoned. Her heart lurched as she realised he must be in his own suite, on his own territory.

      As she was enjoying the sight he suddenly swung out into the courtyard garden. As if sensing the heat of her gaze, he looked straight across to where she stood watching him.

      There could be no escape. Alyssa thought of all the photographs she had ever seen of him. None of them did him justice tonight. While he was always snapped with the world’s most glamorous women, tonight she was scrubbed clean of make-up, perfumed only with bath oil and dressed in chain-store casuals. She blushed furiously, but before she could melt back into the shadows he spoke.

      ‘Alyssa? What a lovely surprise. I was just thinking about you. You can’t sleep either?’ He chuckled, his voice as warm as melted chocolate. ‘I know how you feel. Our afternoon together was so good, it seems a shame to end this special day like any other.’

      He smiled, in a deliciously unthreatening way.

      ‘Wait there—I’ve had a great idea …’