The Formidable King Read online

It took a conscious effort to keep her hands still in her lap as she stole a sideways glance at the King of Santaliana. He’d dressed casually for the trip. His denim jeans emphasised the strength of his thighs and his white, short-sleeved linen shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, drawing her attention to the tanned V at the base of his neck.

  Even casually dressed, he could walk into a room and command attention. It was everything to do with his aura of command rather than the clothes he wore.

  While he worked away on his laptop computer, she pretended to be absorbed in the movie she’d selected from the in-flight entertainment available on the royal jet. Despite the film having scooped the pool at the Academy Awards, and starring a man who’d been voted the sexiest in Hollywood, India’s focus kept sliding to Gabriel de la Croix. The King of Santaliana was far sexier than the Hollywood actor.

  Heat stole through her as she recalled the vision of Gabriel’s dark head against her chest and of his mouth drawing her nipple in until it’d disappeared. Remembering the sensation of the taut pink bud being engulfed in his mouth, with his tongue laving it, made her tremble.

  God, but she wished she hadn’t stopped him—wished it hadn’t been essential that she stopped him.

  There was no denying her attraction to him. He awakened her sensuality like no other man. Despite what her therapist said, India knew it was impossible for her to ever know him as a lover.

  As if her nerves weren’t fraught enough about this whole trip to Africa, there was layer upon layer of tension piling higher with her awareness of Gabriel, her responses to him, and her uncertainty as to whether or not he’d attempt again to break down her protests and try to claim her as his lover.

  After she’d lost herself so completely with him at the ball in Santaliana, she hadn’t seen him again in person until she’d returned to his kingdom from London this morning and boarded his private jet.

  In the last fortnight, she hadn’t been able to keep from thinking about him. There’d been no danger when she’d looked him up on the internet and stared longingly at his images. She’d drunk her fill of him from the living room at her country estate as she’d watched him on the television broadcast of his brother’s wedding.

  With her heart doing a little flip every time the cameras zoomed in on Gabriel, India admitted she craved the excitement that had fizzed through her bloodstream when she’d been held secure against the utterly masculine, solid strength of his chest. The potency of her attraction for him had been as overwhelming as it had been when they’d first been together at the masquerade ball. It was a total shock because she’d never expected to feel that way after what she’d experienced as a teenager.

  What you felt is completely normal, her therapist had told her. You shouldn’t resist something that feels so natural.

  It may be natural, but it scared her witless and every self-protective instinct told her she mustn’t give in to her desire. She might’ve melted into him for a few short moments while they’d kissed, but if things had progressed any further, how long would it have been before she was paralysed by a panic attack—or worse still, embarrassed herself completely by clawing at him like a wild animal in remembered reaction to her previous trauma?

  She had to bury her longing for the king, yet that was easier said than done.

  It’d been a full two years after her kisses with ‘Zorro’ that she’d been brave enough to try again. Quite deliberately, she’d embarked on a mission to end up in bed with a guy she thought she could feel comfortable with—a guy she liked and trusted.

  It’d been obvious from the moment she met Finn that he was keen on her and wasn’t going to be put off his pursuit, even though she’d turned down his first two invitations for dinner. Following a lot of soul-searching, and counselling, she’d decided to bite the bullet and go for it.

  Dinner had gone well. She’d known exactly what she invited when she asked Finn in for coffee after dinner, and she’d been determined to succeed with her plan. But even though she’d still been fully clothed, the moment Finn had shifted his weight over her body and she’d felt the hardness of his arousal on her thigh, she’d gone into a full sweat, started hyperventilating, and clawing and shoving at him until he shot off the bed and away from her.

  Yes, he’d been shocked and frustrated, and she didn’t blame him. Who could blame him for being angry with her when everything in her actions had invited him to be her lover? His accusation of her being either a tease or downright frigid had been warranted. It’d been a mortifying experience for her and had seen her isolated from a lovely group she’d been befriending, because she’d been too embarrassed to face any of them—afraid that Finn may have relayed the events of the night.

  From that point, her sexual experimentation was over and she’d cancelled all her appointments with her therapist.

  Intimacy was not a situation she’d ever expose herself to again.

  So you say, her inner voice goaded, but you didn’t even think of holding back when you were in Gabriel’s arms. You couldn’t wait to remove his shirt and your hands savoured every exposed inch of his muscular torso. You want this man as your lover—that’s why you went back to your therapist after your return from Santaliana.

  Gabriel. Devastatingly handsome Gabriel, who could turn her on just with the sound of his voice, was tempting her all over again. The formidable monarch, who ruled his kingdom, wanted to rule her body. At least he had.

  She shot another sideways look at him.

  Had he lost interest in her or had common sense asserted itself and told him to back away from an engaged woman with whom he had to maintain a business footing? Perhaps his brother had talked sense into him after discovering the two of them locked away together at the ball?

  Whoa!

  Heated sensation formed a whirlpool in her abdomen and hot dart tips of awareness shot along her nerves when he looked up and trapped her eyes in his intense blue gaze. Those sensually sculptured lips, which had enslaved her on three occasions now with their masterful eroticism, moved in speech.

  Hastily, India removed her headphones so she could hear him.

  ‘Are you enjoying the movie?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Do you need help with the controls?’

  She frowned. ‘No.’

  ‘I thought you might need some assistance in getting back to the main menu, considering the end titles rolled out about fifteen minutes ago.’

  Her eyes flew to the screen. ‘Oh!’ The video had finished. Now the screen showed the menu page and she became aware that the only sound she’d been listening to through her headsets was a small part of the theme music replaying.

  Stowing the screen back into her armrest, she sought for an excuse. ‘I—’

  ‘Admit it,’ he said with a smile, ‘You weren’t a bit interested in the film.’

  ‘How would you know? Weren’t you absorbed in your work?’ She pretended to brush a crumb from the lap of her lilac dress.

  ‘No need to sound neglected. I find it difficult to concentrate on my official responsibilities when I’m seated across the aisle from such a very beautiful woman—a woman I desire intensely.’

  ‘I’m not so beautiful,’ she told him sincerely. Without thinking, her hand went up to touch the scar tissue under her eye. ‘I simply have a very unusual shade of eyes, which people find interesting.’

  His short laugh was full of disbelief. ‘Is that really what you believe?’

  She tilted her head to one side and frowned at him.

  ‘You’re the whole package, India. Perfect height, perfect figure, beautiful skin—the works.’ He seemed surprised she didn’t credit it. ‘I haven’t achieved a single thing I set out to complete on this trip. I’ve been far more absorbed in you being absorbed in me.’

  Really? He was evidently far less obvious than she was, but she could hardly admit it when it was imperative she keep a safe distance between them. ‘You have tickets on yourself.’

  He tapped a but
ton on his keyboard and the screen of his laptop went blank. Then he was up, out of his seat and making himself comfortable in the seat opposite her. ‘You were hesitant about making this trip. Do you—?’

  ‘Hesitant?’ She sat straighter in her seat and tried to summon all her anger to the fore to mask her awareness of him. ‘No, I wasn’t hesitant.’ Suddenly aware of the security personnel who might hear them through the partition of the cabin, she lowered her voice. ‘I told you quite adamantly I didn’t want to come, still you virtually blackmailed me to be here.’

  ‘I admit when I discovered you were the woman who was in charge of my sister’s foundation, I was suspicious of your motivations and wanted you to prove your commitment to the foundation’s cause.’ He waved one hand nonchalantly. ‘That’s hardly surprising given the little I knew of you.’

  ‘That’s right.’ She pointed a finger at him in accusation. ‘You knew little, but were prepared to make serious judgements on the basis of very little fact.’

  ‘I apologise.’ He moved his head in a gesture of concession.

  She raised both eyebrows and looked at him through widened eyes.

  ‘I admit I thought you may have ulterior motives for taking up the managing directorship, but at that point I didn’t realise you were the Duchess of Dunmorton.’

  Her eyes narrowed with her displeasure and she bit out, ‘Exactly what did you think these ulterior motives were?’

  He shrugged those shoulders of his that would do a rugby player proud, and continued to speak in a nonchalant tone. ‘Believing you were part of the social set that frequented events like the masquerade ball we attended, I thought you may be embezzling money from the foundation to fund your lifestyle.’ He ignored her outraged intake of breath and continued, ‘Alternately, I thought that perhaps you were using your position to meet a wealthy husband.’

  ‘But I’m already engaged.’

  ‘Engaged, but with no signs of getting married any time soon. I wondered if you were out to catch a bigger fish.’

  ‘You’re unbelievable.’ She raised both hands and flicked them in his direction in sheer frustration. ‘In fact, you’re unbelievably shallow if you’ve suddenly decided, on the basis of my inherited title, that I’m suddenly innocent of either charge. Do you think being titled makes a person less likely to steal from others, or less aware of social position?’

  ‘Of course not, but I know now that you’re an incredibly wealthy woman in your own right.’ He bent his arm on the armrest and his hand went up to his chin to take the weight of his head for a moment as he regarded her. ‘I’ve also been told you live quite frugally.’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Full of pent-up indignation, she wanted to get up out of her seat and pace. She grabbed hold of the Champagne glass that was on the tray of her armrest and wished she could throw it at him. Instead, she glared at him and grated, ‘Have you actually had the temerity to have me investigated?’

  ‘Just a general check on your financial status and lifestyle.’

  Eyes still radiating heat, she shook her head in incredulity. ‘You’ve got a nerve.’

  ‘I’m the patron of the foundation—a foundation that was extremely important to my sister. It would’ve been irresponsible for me not to act on my suspicions once they were raised.’

  If they weren’t in an aircraft, thirty-eight thousand feet above the ground, she’d get up and walk out. Anger coursed through her so strongly, if she was offered a parachute, she might just take it.

  His expression softened. ‘My investigator also told me that the Countess of Picksbury passed away a fortnight ago. I was very sorry to hear the news.’

  Pressing her lips together tightly, India refrained from commenting. The death of Jeremy’s mother had been both a loss and a blessing. It’d been awful to watch her deteriorate slowly, and to know they were powerless to do anything to stop her decline. At least India’s engagement to Jeremy had given the countess some happiness.

  ‘I understand that Artarmon will be in mourning. I suppose that will further delay your wedding plans.’

  ‘Naturally.’ The death of Jeremy’s mother would delay their wedding plans permanently. In fact, had it not been for this trip to Africa, India’s engagement to Jeremy would’ve been called off by now.

  ‘You must’ve discussed some time frame for the wedding with your fiancé?’

  ‘No.’ She put the Champagne flute aside because she held it so tightly there was a very real danger she’d crack the elegant stem. Needing to do something with the hands that wanted to wring Gabriel’s neck, she folded her arms across her chest.

  ‘Really?’ His tone of surprise was overdone. ‘I thought it was merely the fact that his mother was so ill that was stopping you from forging ahead with all the wedding plans?’

  Lips pressed together tightly, she maintained silence rather than rise to his baiting.

  ‘I’ll bet Artarmon doesn’t know about the kisses we shared.’ His already deep tenor’s voice lowered to baritone. Inwardly she cursed as the sheer, sexy masculinity of each word smoothed over her raw nerves like dark, molten chocolate. ‘I’d wager my last dollar he has no idea how urgently your fingers moved to undo my buttons, or how readily you came apart when I tasted your delectable breasts.’

  She clenched her back molars and chose to ignore his goading—focusing instead on trying to dispel the erotic images from her mind’s eye. The truth was that Jeremy did know. Well, he knew the watered-down version she’d told him—that there was an attraction between her and the King of Santaliana and that her reactions to Gabriel scared her witless. She’d had to tell Jeremy so he’d understand why she wanted to continue their engagement, rather than sticking to their agreement to end the deception once his mother passed away. Jeremy had agreed to keep posing as her fiancé until after she returned from this trip to Africa. It was the only ruse she could think of to keep Gabriel at bay.

  ‘If Artarmon had known about the electric undercurrent that pulses between us, he’d surely not have allowed you to accompany me.’

  Go to blazes! she told him inwardly, while she fixed her gaze on the stitched pattern of the aircraft’s leather seating.

  ‘How did Artarmon feel about losing you to Africa?’

  The turn of phrase sent a shiver through her spine. Nerves sent frantic impulses through her, finally cracking her cool veneer.

  ‘He wouldn’t have let you come had he known about what we did behind that locked door. What we were so close to doing...’

  ‘Damn it all, Gabriel! Stop it. Don’t keep talking about that night.’

  ‘Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it the entire flight.’

  She couldn’t. ‘Jeremy had no objections to this trip. He understands the nature of my work.’

  ‘Are you going to sit there and pretend you don’t desire me?’

  She uncrossed her arms and slammed her hands down on the armrests. ‘We’re here to do a job. There can’t be anything else between us.’

  God, but she hoped none of the security staff were picking up on this conversation.

  Although Gabriel looked as though he’d like to say more on the subject of her engagement or underline the undeniably sexual charge in the atmosphere between them, he changed tack. ‘Fine. Let’s talk about your job.’

  One of his capable tanned hands smoothed down the fabric of his trousers at his thigh. Unable to stop herself, India’s gaze followed the movement and she swallowed to lubricate her throat as it dried at the mere thought of the powerful thighs that lay beneath the fabric.

  ‘Your work at the foundation is important, India. When we land, you’ll realise how important. The people in this village lead a very different lifestyle from what you’re used to. I hope their simple way of life doesn’t provide too much of a shock for you.’

  Oh for goodness sake! ‘You know, you really are an arrogant, patronising bastard.’

  His head jerked and he looked genuinely confused by the vehemence of her attack. ‘Do
n’t be offended. While you may not be the wild party girl I first believed you to be, you’ve still led the life of a wealthy woman of Britain’s aristocracy. Whatever you’ve read about Misanti, or seen on documentaries, I doubt you’ll be prepared for—’

  ‘I’ve had quite enough of your very inaccurate assumptions of me,’ she raged as her hand sliced through the air in front of her. ‘I have not been brought up as a pampered, wealthy member of the British aristocracy and I’m more than prepared for the lifestyle that will greet me when we disembark in the capital and make our way to the village.’

  ‘India—’

  ‘Enough.’ She stood up. ‘I don’t wish to talk to you anymore. Go back to your work and get something done, Gabriel. I’m going to read my novel.’ With that, she stretched up to the overhead locker, took down her carry-on bag and withdrew her novel.

  ‘Fine,’ he told her as she settled back into her seat.

  She removed the bookmark, and was about to force herself to read when he shifted to stand up and return to his seat. But her pulse was beating so strongly, the pressure inside her head built to such an extent, she was forced to vent, ‘No, damn it all! It’s not fine. Sit back down in that blasted chair. As much as I’d love you to choke on your incorrect assumptions when we reach our destination, let’s clear up some of the remaining misconceptions you have of me right here and now.’

  He was going to find out the minute they reached the village anyway. She may as well tell him now.

  Gabriel sank back into the chair opposite her, his mouth slanted in a smile of bemusement. ‘Nobody has ever spoken to me the way you do.’

  ‘That’s probably why you’re so insufferable at times.’

  His smile broadened. He raised his hands palms up in a gesture of entreaty and declared, ‘Fire away, India. I’m all in favour of clearing up misconceptions.’

  Inhaling deeply, she tried to calm her heartbeat. After an equally long exhalation, she stated simply, ‘I’ve been to Misanti before, Your Majesty.’

  ‘You have?’ The sudden slackening of his jaw—his transformation from amused to stunned—was incredibly satisfying.