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 …’
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
