By Request Collection Part 3. Robyn Donald

passwords infiltrated the citadel and got as far as the vaults before the alarms finally picked up his presence.’

      Mind racing, Rafiq demanded, ‘Where is he?’

      Chagrined, she admitted, ‘He gave us the slip in the old town.’

      So he was a local. No outsider would be able to navigate the narrow alleys of the original town.

      Mme Fanchette confirmed this. ‘We’ve got a good shot of him on tape. He’s a petty thief—been in trouble since he was a kid, and he’s now deep in hock over gambling debts.’ She paused. ‘The man he owes has been seen talking to Gastano.’

      Rafiq digested that. ‘Have the passwords been changed?’

      ‘As we speak.’

      ‘But if we don’t know who the traitor in the household is, we’ll have to assume that he—or she—will also be told of the changes.’ His frown deepening, Rafiq thought rapidly before commanding, ‘I want the watch on Gastano reinforced; he’s wily and he’s ruthless. And step up the security at the castle as well as the citadel.’

      ‘You think M’selle Sinclair is in danger?’

      ‘Possibly.’

      Driven by a need to know that Lexie was safe, Rafiq strode down the hall towards her room. Once he was sure of that, he’d set a guard at her door. Although he’d chosen her room to make sure she couldn’t escape, the sheer walls on the seaward side would also make it impossible for anyone to reach her that way.

      But if Felipe Gastano had suborned someone in the household to get those passwords, he could have access to someone in the castle as well.

      Rafiq opened the door quietly. The room was in darkness, although the shutters were still open. He could see the stars through the tall windows, and hear the muted thunder of the sea on the reef.

      And something else—a soft weeping that lifted the hairs on the back of his neck.

      Get out of here, he told himself, angry because he knew he wasn’t going to abandon her to such distress.

      His voice woke Lexie from a nightmare of loss and disillusion, of frantic fear and terror. She reached blindly for him, feeling the side of the bed sink as he sat down on it, and then the safe haven of his arms closed around her.

      Stroking her hair, he murmured, ‘Hush, hush, it’s all right, Lexie. It’s just a nightmare, just a bad dream, and you’re awake now.’

      ‘You were gone,’ she sobbed. ‘I couldn’t find you—they wouldn’t let me go—but I knew you were dead…’

      ‘I am very much alive.’ His confident voice eased the horror that still gripped her. He picked up her hand and held it against his heart. ‘Feel that? It’s my pulse, and it’s not going to stop for many years yet.’

      Brokenly, mouth against his throat, she said, ‘Oh, thank God. Thank God…’

      And she reached up and kissed him, relief making her bold.

      When he pulled away, she whispered, ‘No. Oh, please.’ And his mouth hardened on hers and she knew it was going to be all right.

      They made love with a rapacity that should have shocked her, and then slowly, gently, with a sweet tenderness that made her heart sing and weep at the same time.

      When he eased away from her, she clung openly.

      Rafiq laughed, a sexy sound that sent more shivers of delight through her. ‘So valiant now,’ he teased, and ran a light, infinitely provocative finger from the hollow at the base of her throat to the dimple of her navel.

      Lashes drooping over her eyes, she savoured the rills of anticipation from that light, unsatisfying touch. She looked up into a face that hardened subtly, the autocratic framework exposed by tanned skin.

      I love you so much, she thought achingly.

      She kissed along his jaw, lips tingling at the slight friction of his beard while heat began to build again in the pit of her stomach.

      ‘Yes,’ he said deeply. ‘You like that. So do I.’

      His seeking hand cupped the soft mound of her femininity, then two fingers slid into the moist recess and she arched against the intimate caress, her breath coming rapidly between her lips, the heat transmuted into a wildly erotic complex of sensations.

      But this wasn’t what she wanted—a quick release.

      No, she wanted him to remember her, to never be able to walk into this room again without her face coming to him, and her voice echoing in his ears.

      Emboldened, she pushed at his shoulders. ‘Lie down,’ she said, and bent her head and kissed him, using that slight leverage to ease him back.

      She felt his mouth curve beneath hers, and then he obeyed, settling onto the sheets, heavy-lidded eyes smouldering.

      Long and lean and golden, he sprawled across the bed beneath her, the smooth definition of relaxed muscles beneath his sleek skin belying the power she knew he commanded, the blazing male potency that called to everything female in her.

      Absorbed in sensation, she explored him with increasing boldness, delighting in the contrast of textures and the swift contraction of muscles beneath her fingertips, the way his eyes promised the most carnal of retribution, the thinning of his beautiful mouth as he fought her effect on him.

      A film of moisture across his forehead sent her pulses racing. She lowered her head and touched tiny butterfly kisses there, then licked across the path her lips had taken.

      Hoarsely, he said, ‘You’re killing me.’ And when she hesitated his mouth twisted and he went on, ‘But stopping would kill me faster.’

      ‘I just want to please you.’ She dropped another kiss on each shoulder, bunched now, and iron-hard beneath her seeking mouth.

      He gestured down his body. ‘You must see you’re succeeding.’

      Indeed she could. Desire burned her cheeks, and she reached out a hand, cupping him, caressing the silken shaft that had given her such erotic pleasure.

      He said unevenly, ‘Much more of that, and you’ll unman me.’ His arms were outstretched, the muscles corded and tight, his hands curled into fists.

      ‘I don’t think anyone could unman you,’ she said in a tone to match his, and opened her lips to his fierce demand, before a wild impulse pulled her away to climb over him and stretch herself the length of his taut body.

      He didn’t move, not even when she slid herself down, shivering with pleasure as she took him into her. She caught the green glitter beneath his lashes, welcoming the colour along his high, autocratic cheekbones.

      Concentrating hard, she began to clench and unclench inner muscles in a subtle massage. His lashes lifted; he pinioned her gaze with such single-minded intensity, she felt he was reading her soul.

      Eyes locked, bodies still, the only sound was the mingled harshness of their breathing. Lexie continued the voluptuous torment, ratcheting up the sensual tension, until the only thing she could feel was the molten pleasure rising like the tide through every cell.

      And then it broke over her, a wave of such passionate delight that she gave a muffled cry, and her body stiffened in a rictus of ecstatic release.

      Rafiq’s hands whipped up to support her; he made a guttural sound that mingled with hers, and his powerful length arced beneath hers, hands on her hips forcing her down as he joined her in fulfilment.

      When it was over he held her against him and they lay spent in silent communication. Dazed, Lexie understood that something significant had happened, but she didn’t know exactly what. It seemed to her that they had forged a link that might never be broken.

      For her, anyway.

      Much later, when she was almost asleep, she felt him move. Grief tore at her; without