The Prince's Wedding Page 18

  "All the comforts and necessities, on a small scale," she murmured, and he smiled. He had a sudden vision of taking off with her, sailing away for an endless string of warm, sunny days and hot nights. His hands gripped the table harder.

  She went farther down the hall, glancing in the two staterooms with the small but functional head in between. And then she went to the master cabin, and he nearly held his breath, wondering what she would think.

  She stepped through the doorway, paused, he saw her look around. And then she laughed.

  "This is wonderful!" she said. "It's like a pirate ship!"

  He let out a sigh of relief and walked toward her. The master cabin was his own personal conceit; he'd let his imagination run wild, and his imagination had indeed been in pirate mode. The bed, custom built for his height, ran sideways across the stern. It was atop a bank of shelves and cupboards so you had to climb up to get into it, but it was even with a row of portholes across the stern, enabling you to look out without moving.

  With the bunk up against the stern, it left more room in the cabin itself, room enough for a big, rough-hewn desk, over which hung a brass lantern, just like he'd always imagined a pirate captain's cabin would look. Along the sides were hanging closets and more storage.

  "The head is modern," he assured her, "even has a small tub. But in here I kind of went...." He shrugged, not sure what word applied.

  "Whimsical?" she suggested, still smiling.

  "Yeah," he agreed, "that's it."

  "It's wonderful," she said. "Makes you want to take off and sail the seven seas."

  "Yes, it does. Shall we?"

  "What?"

  "Sail the seven seas."

  "Right now?" She let out a soft sigh. "It sounds lovely."

  She turned then, to face him head-on. She studied him for a long silent moment, and he sensed there was something uppermost in her mind she was pondering whether to say or not.

  "What, Jessie?"

  "Sometimes," she whispered, "I wish we could go back. I miss Joe. His life was so much simpler, I...."

  She stopped. And Lucas realized he'd gone so far in trying to convince her that he'd changed, that he wasn't that Playboy Prince who was fodder for the tabloids anymore, that he'd managed to convince her he wasn't the man she'd fallen in love with on her ranch, either.

  "But since we can't do that, sailing the seven seas sounds wonderful."

  She looked up at him with a world of longing in her eyes, and he lost his battle for self-control. He reached out and touched her hair, brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

  "Any self-respecting pirate would be a fool to let you out of this cabin without ravishing you first."

  She took a deep, visible breath. She gazed up at him, and he had the crazed thought that she looked as if he were that pirate captain, and about to make her walk the plank.

  "I don't think you're a fool," she said softly.

  Lucas's heart slammed into overdrive. He stared at her, unable to believe the implication of what she'd said. There had been a sad sort of undertone to her voice, but he couldn't dwell on that, not if she was saying what he thought she was.

  "Jessie," he said, and found he couldn't go on.

  And then she reached for him. She did nothing more than lay her hand flat on his chest, her palm over his heart, but it was all he needed. All he could bear without pulling her fiercely into his arms.

  He still half expected her to pull away when he kissed her, but she didn't. She opened for him, urged him on with teasing flicks of her tongue, and in that moment she was the old Jessie, the woman he'd held and loved in the night on a quiet ranch in Colorado. It was as if the time between had never happened, as if they were as close as they had been before he'd walked out on her.

  The Playboy Prince would never have questioned her, would have assumed she had no reservations. But the new Lucas couldn't. He put his hands on her shoulders and broke the kiss, reluctantly, pulling back to look into her face.

  "You mean this, Jessie? You want this? I don't want you to regret this tomorrow."

  "I want you," she said, and he couldn't deny the truth of her words, it was glowing hot and intense in her eyes. "And it won't matter tomorrow."

  He shuddered under the impact of her words. "I love that dress," he said thickly, "but right now I'd love it more off of you."

  She said nothing, simply turned her back to him and lifted her hair. With fingers that were none too steady he found the small tab of the zipper and lowered it. He wanted to go slowly, to savor every inch of lovely skin revealed, but he was still afraid she would change her mind. So instead he let the dress fall, and she stepped out of it.

  She turned back, clad now only in a pair of lavender panties and a matching, lacy strapless bra that was somehow no more sexy than her plain cotton underwear had been; sexy, he finally realized, was in the wearer. He picked her up then, lifted her onto the high bunk, before she could change her mind.

  He shed his clothes quickly, nearly groaning at the ache of his aroused body. He didn't bother with the steps and was up beside her in a rush.

  "Jessie," he breathed, burying his hands in her hair and his face in the soft swell of flesh above the pale bra. "I want to go slow, but—"

  "Don't. Don't go slow."

  On the last word she reached up and unfastened the front clasp of the bra, and it fell away, freeing her breasts. His hands moved quickly, eagerly to cup them, and lift them to his mouth. He took first one nipple, then the other, and sucked them to pebble hardness, his own body tightening unbearably at her swift, moaning response.

  Her eagerness fired him beyond restraint, and he felt as if he'd gone years instead of weeks without touching her like this. Every sign she gave him, every stroke of her hands across his skin, every tiny moan, every arching shift of her body drove him to a madness he'd never known with anyone but her.

  He moved his hands downward until his fingers snagged in the silk of her panties. She lifted her hips to help him slide them off, and the thought of her moving like that when he was buried inside her made him nearly lose control right then. When he slid his hands up the silken length of her legs she parted them for him. He gently probed through the soft curls, gritting his teeth to keep from driving himself into the depths of her when he found her wet and ready. Clamping down on a new surge of desperate need, he stroked further, until he found the tiny knot of nerves that made her gasp.

  "Don't go slow."

  She said it again, breathlessly, and it shattered the last bit of restraint he had. He levered himself over her, and she reached up for him in the same moment. In a moment he was sliding into her, losing himself in her tight, slick heat. The old magic leapt to life, and he groaned low and deep in his chest as his entire body cramped with the need to move.

  He drove deep, withdrew, and at her tiny moan of protest, drove forward again. She cried out, and he'd never heard anything so sweet as her husky voice in that moment. He lowered his head to her breast once more, and drew one taut nipple into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. She cried out again, and her body bowed beneath him, driving him so deep it took the breath out of him.

  And then she convulsed around him, clenching, squeezing, until he could wait no longer and with a final groan of her name, he let go and flew.

  Jessie crept silently back into her room. Eliya was dutifully sitting up, stitching as usual on what appeared to be the same length of silk. She looked up as Jessie came in, and smiled. Jessie went immediately to the crib and looked down at her sleeping son.

  "You look lovely," Eliya said.

  "Thank you."

  Jessie blushed, knowing exactly what she looked like; she'd seen herself in the mirror in the head aboard Colorado Dreaming, and known she had little hope of putting herself fully to rights again. Her hair was still in a tangle from Lucas's hands, her body still humming from his touch. She'd gone a little crazy, and Lucas had responded in kind, and it had been exactly what she'd wanted, a night to rememb
er forever. She thought that it must be emblazoned on her face, that she'd spent the evening in a pirate's bed.

  Her color deepened at the hot, erotic memories; she could feel the heat flooding her face. At the same time her heart ached inside her, because she knew what was coming. She knew that it was the last time. Because she knew that in the morning she and Luke would leave for Tamir.

  And they wouldn't be coming back.

  Chapter 17

  Jessie hunched over her son as she sat in the back of the taxi, which was an almost luxurious sedan that spoke of Tamir's wealth and strong economy. She touched Luke's cheek, and when he reached up for her finger and clasped it, she smiled through the tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes.

  Could she really handle this? She didn't know anything about being a mother. She'd read copiously after she'd discovered her pregnancy, but she had been missing Joe so much, had been feeling so betrayed by his middle-ofthe-night desertion, that she wasn't sure how much she had absorbed.

  And she had no one close to really turn to. Even if her sister hadn't turned on her, Ursula was hardly the type to give out motherly advice.

  She had never realized before how isolated she had become on the ranch. Her nearest neighbors on all sides were elderly or crusty old bachelor men. Since her parents' deaths she'd been so consumed by keeping the ranch going she'd had little time left for maintaining friendships. She, Mrs. Winstead and the ranch hands, plus the wives of the two who were married, had formed a family of sorts, and she'd never really thought about missing the company of women her own age. She'd missed her mother terribly, of course, but that had been a different, separate ache.

  It was Julia, she realized with a little shock. It was Julia with her gracious friendliness and easy charm who had reminded her how much she missed the company of women, especially women her own age. She felt a pang of sadness at the fact that the sense of connection with Julia that she'd felt so quickly would be severed before it ever had the chance to develop into something stronger.

  Luke squirmed and made a tiny gurgling sound, then his little forehead scrunched up as if in pain. He let out a cry that startled her, then subsided into silence. Trepidation filled her as she looked at him, but he seemed to settle quietly. She checked his diaper, but it didn't need attention. Puzzled, she watched him carefully, but he seemed to have gone right back to sleep.

  She sighed, wondering if she would ever learn enough to be comfortable about taking care of him, know when and when not to worry.

  Mrs. Winstead could probably help, she thought. She knew a lot, even though she'd never had kids of her own. And Barney had a grandchild barely a year old, so he was even more used to babies. She'd get by, somehow.

  She leaned back in the seat of the cab, letting her eyes drift closed. She'd slept little last night; even after she'd packed, she'd been unable to rest. Doubts had assailed her all night long; Lucas had been so sweet, so loving. As she had asked, he hadn't put any pressure at all on her about the future; he didn't bring it up at all. But neither had he spoken of love, so the sweetness of his caresses was lacking the one thing that might have changed her mind.

  There were many reasons to accept his proposition, business-like though it was, and only two reasons not to. But those two reasons—her own need to be loved as Joe had loved her, and her son's precious right to choose his own path in life—outweighed all the reasons on the other side by a large margin. And those two reasons made her decision, if not easy, then at least clear-cut.

  An image of Lucas from last night formed in her mind, of his eyes bright and fierce as he looked down at her, of the slight tremble in his hands as he touched her, of his husky cry of her name as he climaxed inside her. And suddenly she wasn't at all sure "clear-cut" was the right description.

  When the taxi pulled up at the modern, mostly glass airport terminal, it took her several minutes to gather up her purse, the baby and the bag she'd packed for them both. Luke awoke, but made no fuss. Thankful that since the new trade agreement had been signed that Montebellan money was accepted here in Tamir, she got out the last she had for the driver. It constituted an outsize tip, but it was one more way to reinforce the finality of her decision. She knew it was merely symbolic, American dollars spent here just as well, but it was a gesture she needed to make.

  Still, she hesitated before handing over the money and dismissing the man. Once she got on that plane, she had as much as declared her independence, and she could well bring down on her head all the might the wealth and power of the Sebastianis could buy.

  "Here goes, little one," she whispered to Luke. He cooed back at her, which in her desperation she decided meant he was happy with her, even in the noise of a busy airport terminal. She steeled herself, handed the money to the driver, noted by his expression he was startled by the amount, picked up the bag and slung the strap over her shoulder.

  Head up and jaw set, she strode into the terminal.

  "She what?" Lucas asked incredulously, staring at the telephone as if it had somehow scrambled the words he was hearing into something impossible to comprehend.

  "She was getting on a plane," his stubborn sister insisted. "She had a ticket to Rome, and a list of flights from there to the United States. She was going home, Lucas."

  "There has to be a mistake."

  "There's no mistake. We started to worry when we found she had slipped away from the palace. When we learned a taxi had been called from nearby for a fare to the airport, we called the company. The driver remembered her because she gave him a very large tip."

  "Maybe it was just another blond woman."

  "Give it up, Lucas. We have her back with us."

  "What?"

  "We called airport security, someone Rashid knows. He had already recognized Jessie in the terminal from photos he'd seen on Montebello when he'd been there with Rashid, and remembered which flight she'd checked in for because he thought it curious she would be leaving for America from here."

  It was impossible. It made no sense at all. She couldn't have been leaving him, not after last night. They'd had the most passionate night of their lives, there was no way she could simply walk away. Could she?

  "What has she told you?" he asked.

  "Not much. She's not of a mind to talk at the moment, I'm afraid. She's not happy we stopped her."

  "But we were.. .last night we.. .she couldn't have been leaving."

  "She was," Julia said flatly. "And she was taking Luke with her."

  Lucas swore, low and harsh.

  "Indeed," his sister said. "So tell me, brother mine, what did you do to drive her away?"

  "Me? Nothing! Last night, we worked it all out. I know we did. It was an incredible night, she was so—"

  He stopped suddenly, realizing he'd been about to blurt out the details of the night he'd spent with Jessie to the girl who had once spied on his first date with a girl and then blabbed about it to anyone who would listen.

  "Let me guess," Julia said dryly, "you had great sex and therefore you decided in a typically male fashion that all was resolved?"

  "Well.. .yes," he said, feeling a bit foolish now that she put it in those terms.

  "What is it with men? Rashid thought the same thing, that just because we had the hottest sex on the planet, that there were no obstacles to overcome."

  Lucas grimaced. That was more about his sister's private life than he was comfortable knowing. "This is different. Jessie and I, we...she...."

  His voice trailed off as he realized they had indeed done no more than have the hottest sex on the planet last night. They'd barely talked at all.

  "She what, Lucas? Told you she'd decided to stay?"

  "No."

  "Then she told you that she no longer cared that her baby's future is cast in stone?"

  "No."

  Julia sighed. "When you said you loved her, did she say she no longer loved you?"

  "Uh...no." His hesitation before he repeated the deadly word a third time betrayed him.


  "Lord, Lucas, don't tell me you never told her. Not after I told you she didn't know."

  "She didn't want any talk of the future!" he protested. "That was her condition for going out last night."

  "And you decided that meant not saying you love her? Good heavens, Lucas, there's no time a woman doesn't want to hear that!"

  "Well, how should I know that?" he demanded, feeling more than a little beleaguered. "I've never told a woman I love her before."

  "Really? Never?" Julia sounded astonished, then curious. "Not even that little actress you were dating before you ran off to America?"

  "No, I didn't, and I did not run off," Lucas said, wondering why it was that nobody could get under his skin like his sisters could. "And could we get back to the point?"

  "What is your point?"

  "Just let me talk to her."

  "I don't think so. If you never told her that you—you Lucas, not the ranch hand she fell for—loved her, and still do, then you deserve what you got. No wonder she thinks you only want her because of Luke."

  He blinked. "She what?"

  "Lord, you don't even know that much?"

  "How should I know that?"

  "How can you not? You abandon her and only come back after you have Luke. Instead of proposing, you give her a job description. You never tell her you love her—what do you expect her to think?"

  "But I don't understand," he said, knowing he was coming perilously close to whining. "Why would she leave without saying a word? After last night? It was so...extraordinary."

  "Perhaps it was goodbye," Julia suggested.

  And suddenly a cascade of images flooded his mind—the look of longing in her eyes last night, the undertone of sadness in her voice.

  ...it won'tmatter tomorrow.

  God. Could it be? Was that what she'd meant, that it wouldn't matter tomorrow, because she knew even last night that she was going to leave, that it would be their last night together?

  It was true. He knew it suddenly, with a gut-knotting certainty. She'd been leaving him.