“It’s enough to raise suspicions. And damn the vulture who took it.”
Kate noticed Marc’s hand resting between them, the bruised and puffy knuckles. She caught his wrist and worked his fingers back and forth, all the while watching Marc’s face for any signs of pain. He just sat there staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight.
“You’re going to have some swelling,” she said. “But I don’t think you’ve done too much damage. I’m not sure I can say the same about the camera guy’s nose, or your reputation.” She sent him a shaky smile. “I can see the headlines now—King Saves Damsel in Distress.”
“And hopefully will not be charged with assault.”
“Can they do that?”
“I’ll have my staff deal with it.”
Kate allowed a few moments of silence before she said, “I’m sorry, Marc. I should have been more careful.”
He pulled his hand from hers as if he couldn’t stand to touch her. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I should have prepared you for this.”
“How would you do that? Teach me Camera Dodging, 101?”
For a moment she thought he might smile. Instead, he streaked both hands down his face then his gaze came to rest on her forehead. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
“I’m positive. Promise.”
Surprisingly, Marc moved closer and settled one arm along the back of the seat. “I would not have forgiven myself, Kate, if something more serious had happened to you. And what did happen was bad enough.”
“It was stupid for me to think that if someone suspected we were more than friends, it wouldn’t really matter.”
He took her hand and twined their fingers together. “It does matter, and I’m the foolish one, Kate.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I have inadvertently involved you in this scandal.” His intense eyes sent Kate’s heart on a marathon. “Because I know I shouldn’t do this, but I’ll be damned if I can help myself.”
Inclining his head, Marc captured her bottom lip between his lips before kissing her deeply, tenderly. His mouth melted into hers like cinnamon candy, a taste she detected on his tongue that played against hers so sweetly, softly.
For a fleeting moment, Kate rationalized that his kiss was a result of his frustration and anger, the means to let off steam and the reason why it continued and grew more passionate with every ticking second. But when he slid his palm down her rib cage, to her hip and then back up again, she couldn’t lay claim to any rationality for either of them. All she recognized at that moment was a heady warmth oozing from every pore and a desire for Marc DeLoria’s full attention that knew no limits.
What else would explain her lack of resistance when he cupped her knee, which was exposed by her skirt that had ridden up to her thighs? What else except a total absence of common sense drove her legs to part in invitation while they were driving in a car? What else could have incited the low moan climbing her throat when he slid his palm beneath the hem of her skirt?
She was very aware of what Marc intended when he kept going until his fingertips hovered at the junction of her thighs. And when he fondled her through the nylon, all thoughts slipped away.
She was growing hotter by the minute, closer and closer to losing it as Marc increased the pressure, both with his mouth firmly joined with hers and his hand working wonders between her thighs. Feeling brazen and bold, she slid her palm up his thigh and to his groin where her fingers contacted the ridge beneath his slacks. She touched him the same way he now touched her, through fabric that created a frustrating obstacle but not enough to stop either one of them from the erotic, forbidden exploration. She didn’t think anything could stop them.
“We’re here, Your Highness.”
The grating sound of Nicholas’s voice filtering in from the overhead intercom broke the spell and the kiss. Marc pulled his hand away, slid to the other side of the car and leaned his head back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with his ragged respiration. Kate had trouble catching her breath as well. She already missed his touch, his heat, his mouth that had shown no mercy on her senses.
As they rode through the gates, Marc’s rough sigh broke the silence. “My mother told me she offered you the guesthouse. I’ll see that your things are brought here.”
At least this time he hadn’t apologized for losing control since Kate wasn’t the least bit sorry. “But won’t that be worse, me staying on the grounds?”
“The press probably knows you’re at the inn. You’ll be afforded more protection here.”
The media knew where she was staying because she’d told them, another huge mistake. “If you think that’s best for the time being, then I don’t have a problem with it.”
Marc turned his head toward her. “But we still have one other problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not strong enough to resist you.”
That brought on Kate’s smile. “I’ll try to behave myself.”
“I’m not concerned about your behavior. I am concerned about mine.”
Kate was concerned most about her growing feelings for him. “Look, you just punched out a reporter. You can deal with me.”
Marc returned her smile with one of his own—a smile that could move the mountains surrounding them. “That is the problem, Kate. I want to deal with you in a very intimate way, and that should be more than obvious to you now. If we had not arrived here when we did, I can promise you I would have done much more, regardless of the fact we were in a moving vehicle with only a glass separating us from prying eyes.”
And Kate would have let him.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek immediately before Nicholas opened the car door. “I’m not certain I will be able to overcome that problem.”
Kate sincerely hoped he didn’t.
In the middle of the night, after Cecile was tucked safely in bed, Marc escorted Kate to the inn to retrieve her belongings with a bevy of armed guards as their chaperones. Regardless, he’d done well to keep his hands off of her in the privacy of the car, but once they returned to the deserted guest cottage, he questioned how long he could maintain his resolve.
Marc considered leaving her alone, but he truly didn’t want to leave, especially after Martine had told him that although Kate’s wound didn’t appear that serious, someone should watch her in case she showed signs of a concussion.
Presently, she showed Marc a pair of shapely legs encased in nylons as she strolled around the small living room to examine the odds and ends on the bookshelves in the corner. Those damn panty hose had saved him from doing something totally inadvisable earlier that day, before Nicholas had delivered his untimely interruption.
“Another great collection of books,” she said, keeping her back to him. “Just wish I could read more French.
