couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. But something about Lottie’s spirit of defiance fired his blood like a shot of adrenaline. It was ironic that even dressed as she was like a nun, his desire was rampaging harder and faster than if she was standing before him in a string bikini. Or less.
He wondered why she was so determined to deny herself sensual expression. He had felt such intense passion in her kiss. But for some reason she refused to allow her passion to have free rein. He saw it in the way she held herself, that tight, almost-rigid containment, as if she was afraid of her emotions getting the better of her so had to put them under lock and key.
She didn’t kiss like a nun. She kissed like a wildcat in heat. He wanted to feel that hot little mouth again and not just on his mouth. His body stirred and stretched at the thought of her sucking him dry. Of her hands skimming over his flesh, teasing him, burning him up with feverish longing.
Sexual conquests had become a little too easy for him. He didn’t have to work very hard to get what he wanted. It had even become a little too predictable if he were to be perfectly honest with himself. He had the seduction routine down pat—a smile, a charming word or two, a drink and/or dinner and then sex. It had never failed him in the past. It hadn’t failed him that afternoon on the beach, although he hadn’t taken up the girl’s offer to meet up after her shift.
But while the blonde girl had been beautiful, she hadn’t made his flesh zap and crackle and tingle the way Lottie’s touch did. Even the unbridled dislike in her flinty green gaze turned him on. She loathed him with every ounce of her being but the chemistry that pulsed between them was undeniable.
‘Bet it wouldn’t take me long to change your mind.’ He gave her a lazy smile as he took a sip of his drink.
Her chin came up, those cat’s eyes flashing at him haughtily. ‘You’re forgetting something. I’m a princess. I don’t sleep rough.’
‘I’ll be gentle with you.’
Her cheeks pooled with colour but her mouth was set in schoolmistress reproach. ‘Is there no limit to your impropriety? We are here to discuss the business of my sister’s bachelorette party.’
‘Fine. Talk to me. What did you have in mind?’ He held up a hand. ‘No, let me guess. You’re thinking cucumber sandwiches, Earl Grey tea and scones in the conservatory, right?’
She sucked her cheeks in momentarily, bristling like a pedigree Persian cat in front of an ill-bred dog who was trying to pull off Best in Show. ‘You’re wrong. I was thinking of brunch.’
‘Same difference.’
She frowned in irritation. ‘What’s your brilliant suggestion, then? Something tastefully inappropriate, I suppose?’
His eyes gleamed with something dark and dangerous. ‘Has this draughty old castle got a dungeon?’
LOTTIE BLINKED, TRYING to ignore the cold dread that slithered down her spine. ‘Yes, but I hardly see what—’
‘Perfect.’ He grinned at her. ‘What better place to put a bunch of girls who want to kick over the traces?’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ She stared at him in horror. ‘A dungeon? For a hens’ night?’
‘Run with it for a moment. We could set it up as a nightclub for the night. Hire a DJ, get the girls to dress up in costumes and—’
Lottie clapped her hands over her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear this. La de da—’ she raised her voice in a childish singsong chant ‘—I’m not lis-ten-ing!’
‘Where’s your sense of fun?’ he asked. ‘Come on, think about it. How much fun would it be to have them party down there in the dungeon? We could dress the waitstaff in black leather.’
She dropped her hands and clenched them by her sides instead. ‘What is wrong with you? Next you’ll be suggesting they carry whips and handcuffs and tie all the guests up.’
‘Brilliant!’ His dark eyes twinkled. ‘I knew you’d get into the spirit of it. Your sister and her friends will have a ball. It’ll be a night to remember.’
She gave him a withering look. ‘Drunken debauchery in the dungeon? Yes, that’s really classy.’
‘I can see you in a skin-tight catsuit with over-the-knee black leather boots. And a mask that only shows your incredible eyes and that sexy little mouth of yours.’
Lottie suppressed an involuntary shiver as his smouldering gaze ran over her as if he were already picturing her leather clad. ‘You won’t be seeing me. It’s a girls-only event.’
‘Aw, don’t be a spoilsport.’ He gave her a sexy smile. ‘Can’t I have a private audience with you before the party kicks off?’
The rattle of the dinner trolley arriving was never a more welcome sound to Lottie’s ears even though her appetite was non-existent … or at least her appetite for food. A hunger of an entirely different sort was gnawing at her now. She felt it pulling at her low and deep in her belly. A soft, insistent tugging sensation that made her insides feel hollow. Her skin felt too tight for her body, her senses too aware.
The air contained a silent note of anticipation.
If only he hadn’t kissed her!
Then she wouldn’t be feeling this wretched sense of emptiness and longing. Kissing him had been like tasting the highest quality chocolate for the first time. She would never forget the warmth, the melting smoothness and the seductive, addictive taste of temptation going head-to-head with years of temperance. Temperance didn’t stand a chance. It was like a moth trying to fight off a mammoth.
That wicked glint in Lucca Chatsfield’s eyes had lured dozens of women into his sensual orbit. She would have to fight with every atom of her being to not become yet another one of them. He was so practised at seduction. Even the way he spoke was like a caress—the deep mellifluous voice with its well-bred English accent that now and again betrayed his half-Italian heritage over certain words. The way he slipped endearments in so casually, the way he smiled with that sexy tilt of his mouth, the way his touch was so electric and exciting.
Lottie allowed him to seat her at the table but tried desperately not to show any sign of the impact his presence had on her. She had dined with numerous guests at the palace over the years. She knew how to get through a meal without spilling food or wine or leaving ghastly silences unfilled. But something about sitting opposite Lucca Chatsfield was another story entirely. His knees were almost touching hers underneath the table. She had tucked herself well back in her chair, and had even surreptitiously edged it back a little farther from the table after he had seated her, but even so she was aware of those long, strong, lean legs just inches from her own.
She picked up her wineglass with the tiny measure of wine she only ever allowed herself. ‘What do you do in your spare time, apart from partying?’
‘Not much.’
She searched his features for a moment. His eyes had shifted from hers as he reached for his glass and raised it to his
