buttoned his shirt, which showed a tantalising strip of taut skin...
‘How are you boys feeling?’ It was easier to concentrate on them than this sudden rush of attraction.
They murmured that they were okay, one even venturing a smile. They’d be fine, now the fright wore off. But she’d feel better when a professional checked them.
Alex stopped before her. ‘Why don’t you dry off while we take care of the boys and rustle up a warm drink? Downstairs, second cabin on the left. There’s an en suite shower and I put out clean clothes you can wear till yours dry.’
Cat was about to refuse then thought better of it. George could put her ashore using the tender so she didn’t have to swim back. She’d feel better knowing she didn’t look like a drowned rat. Especially as her nipples were peaking insistently against her bra and she suspected her white T-shirt was transparent.
‘Thanks. I will.’ With a smile for George and the boys, she made her way downstairs.
The yacht was unlike any she’d seen. In her years as a bodyguard she’d been on massive, ultra-modern motor cruisers. Huge edifices several storeys high that housed not just a small boat, but a car and even a helipad. Those cruisers were built for socialising, for glamorous parties and sybaritic self-indulgence.
This yacht was nothing like that.
Cat passed through a wide cabin that was comfortable and stylish rather than look-at-me trendy, though no expense had been spared. Her hand slid down a polished teak rail as she followed the stairs into a roomy corridor. On either side were gleaming timber doors finished with brass touches. Everything was pristine yet the style belonged to an earlier, more gracious era.
She pushed open the second door and found an exquisite cabin, more wood on the walls, a deep plush carpet of dusk blue and a vast bed covered in crisp white and blue.
Wary of dripping onto the carpet, Cat moved quickly into the bathroom, where the luxury continued with marble and mirrors. It was hard to believe she was on a yacht, till she looked out the window and saw the sea and the shore bright in the early light.
Quickly she stripped and showered, tying back her hair with a band she found in the cupboard. There were clothes too. A brief black bikini and an oversized white shirt.
Cat frowned. But her shorts were sodden and she rejected the idea of putting on her wet T-shirt, knowing how it clung.
The bikini fitted surprisingly well and Cat felt a moment’s annoyance that Alex had calculated her size then raided his private store of women’s swimwear, no doubt kept especially for his lady friends.
Shoving her arms through the shirt sleeves, she rolled them up to her elbows, relieved at the way the oversized garment fell well down her thighs. Cat hadn’t missed the way Alex’s eyes had gleamed as he surveyed her.
In other circumstances she might have been interested. But not now, not here, not while she was in St Galla on the most challenging job of her life.
Not while she was impersonating her royal sister.
Cat shivered and she hugged her arms around herself, rubbing away prickling gooseflesh and grateful for the soft fabric of the shirt she sincerely hoped was George’s and not his boss’s.
She’d had a bad feeling about this contract from the first. But it was only when she was installed in an exquisite guest apartment a corridor away from Princess Amelie’s that Cat realised how completely she was out of her depth. They might share their father’s royal blood but that was all.
No one would believe she was Amelie, not for a second.
Worse was the awful ache-in-the-belly certainty that it had been a mistake returning to the country where she’d been so desperately unhappy. Or to have anything to do with her distant family. She’d never belonged to them and they’d brought her nothing but trouble.
Buttoning the shirt as high as it would go, she avoided the mirror and swivelled away, grabbing her sopping wet clothes.
She’d tell the Prime Minister she couldn’t go through with it. He could have his deposit back. She hadn’t spent a cent. He’d probably be grateful—the lady-in-waiting who’d been trying to tutor her in etiquette, deportment and the like had made it clear Cat wasn’t fit for the role.
It would be a relief to get out of this place where even the scent of the sea and the pines crowding the rocky slopes evoked painful memories.
Cat emerged on deck with a determined step but pulled up when she found it deserted.
Everyone had gone, and so had the tender, she saw when she crossed to the rear of the vessel. The shower must have masked the sound of the motor.
‘There you are.’ That deep, smooth voice tantalised, trailing along her skin like a caress. ‘Coffee or fresh juice?’
‘Neither, thanks. It’s time I left.’ She glanced at her waterproof watch. It was still early.
Racked by doubts, she’d got little sleep and had gone running through the palace’s private grounds as the first glimmers of dawn appeared.
She swung round and caught Alex’s eyes on her bare legs.
Slowly, so slowly it must be deliberate, his gaze rose from her feet to her knees, then her thighs, lingering at the hem of the shirt before surveying her body so thoroughly she knew the shirt was transparent. By the time those blue eyes collided with hers, her arms were crossed over her breasts and her mouth was pursed.
‘Do you do that to every woman?’ Her chin hiked. She chose to ignore the little shiver of excitement that stirred in her belly at his obvious appreciation. For once the attraction was mutual.
He shook his head and Cat caught the curl of his mouth at one corner. ‘Never. I’m making an exception with you.’ His lips stretched into a full smile that did devastating things to her pulse. She should be furious at such a sexist attitude but strangely her anger was hard to hang on to. ‘I’m returning the favour. You took your time looking at me.’
His stare defied her to argue and Cat clenched her jaw. She had got an eyeful of bare, some would say awesome, masculinity and she hadn’t been eager to look away. She was in no position to object that he gave as got as he got.
Except that standing here in a brief bikini and see-through shirt, she felt vulnerable in a way she hadn’t felt with any man.
Cat had spent a lifetime ensuring she was unassailable, emotionally and physically.
‘Where are the others?’
‘George is taking them to the recreation camp further up the coast. It turns out they took the canoe without permission and they started to think the staff might worry when they found it and them gone.’
‘So how do I get ashore? Is there another boat?’
Alex shook his head. ‘Just the tender. But George won’t be long. In the meantime I’ll get breakfast.’
‘I really need to get ashore.’
‘Well.’ He tilted his head, appraising her. ‘You could swim to the island. But you’d get wet all over again.
