woman of your obvious charms has no man waiting for her at home?”
She would have taken it as a compliment if not for the painful knowledge that Lorne was right. Supporting her family and dealing with their emotional demands left her little room for a love life. She’d dated a colleague from school but he was, if possible, more demanding than her family, even objecting to this vacation because she wouldn’t be at his beck and call.
Suggesting that he might not wait for her return was intended to bring her to heel. She wasn’t sure who had been more surprised when she agreed that it was probably better that way. “There’s no man waiting at home anymore,” she denied, unable to keep an edge of bitterness out of her voice.
“I suppose your own needs took priority.” Lorne’s cutting tone was a judgment in itself.
At his high-handed tone resentment surged through her. She had had enough of ordering her life around the demands of people who were only too ready to shrug her off when it suited them. Now it was time for some changes. Unconsciously she lifted her chin. “What’s wrong with pleasing myself?”
He paused before replying. “In my experience, it usually means riding roughshod over the feelings of others.”
It was the last thing she would do, but she was too drained by her near drowning to feel like defending herself to Lorne. What would he know about the price her responsibilities had exacted from her, anyway? From his extraordinary good looks and talk of his villa and staff, it sounded as if he didn’t have anyone but himself to worry about.
She shot him a sidelong glance, confused by her ambivalent response to him. His take-charge attitude should have bothered her, but instead it excited her at some unexpected level. She forced herself to ignore the fluttering in her stomach and study him as he had studied her. He was indeed as tall as she’d first concluded, but not dauntingly so, perhaps a head taller than Allie herself. His straight back and easy carriage created an intriguing impression of leashed power.
His hawklike features should have been alarming but instead she found herself imagining how he would look in a moment of joy, the dark eyes lightening with pleasure and the full-lipped mouth curving into a smile. A shiver ran through her.
She would like to paint him exactly as he looked now, she thought. Wearing sleek black swim briefs that rode low around narrow hips, he nevertheless managed to look aristocratic, like a knight in full regalia. Trying to capture that quality would challenge any artist. He looked as if he knew exactly where he fitted into the world.
She suppressed a surge of envy. It must be wonderful knowing exactly who you were and what you should be doing, something Allie herself was still trying to sort out. “What do you do here?” she asked on impulse.
He looked baffled for a moment then said, “Do? You could probably say I run things.”
She was intrigued in spite of herself. “You mean like a manager? In business or government?”
His compelling mouth tightened. “You haven’t been in Carramer very long, have you, Alison?”
“A week, but I plan to stay as long as my money lasts. Why? Should I know who you are?”
He shook his head. “No, but I suspect you’re about to find out.”
She followed the direction of his gaze to where a dark figure plunged toward them from the trees beyond the cove. Then she saw a man in pursuit of a much smaller figure pelting across the sand.
“Nori,” Lorne said, his voice softening with such affection that she regarded him curiously. He opened his arms, and the child threw himself into them, wrapping both arms around the man’s neck as if he would never let go. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be taking a nap,” Lorne asked.
“Don’t need a nap, I’m a big boy now.” The child’s voice was a piping imitation of Lorne’s vibrant French-accented voice.
For some reason Allie felt a stab of disappointment. There was no doubt that Lorne and Nori were father and son. The resemblance was far too strong. So he was married. She didn’t know why it bothered her, as their paths were unlikely to cross again, but the discovery felt as uncomfortable as a grain of sand in her shoe.
The child looked from the stranger to his father. “This is Alison Carter. She got into trouble with the serpent and isn’t feeling well,” Lorne explained.
The little boy nodded gravely. “I know to be very careful of the serpent and only swim with my nanny.”
Allie couldn’t help smiling. With huge dark eyes that shone like stars and skin the color of honey, Nori looked utterly captivating. The mischief dancing in his expression only made him look more appealing. “Maybe I should only swim with my nanny, too,” she agreed.
The little boy looked scornful. “You’re too big to have a nanny. When I’m big, I won’t have one, either.”
Allie laughed. “How old are you, Nori?”
“I’m a big boy now. I’m four.” He held up three chubby fingers, the little finger and thumb curling into his palm.
Without stopping to think, Allie straightened the little finger alongside Nori’s extended fingers. “This many fingers make four.”
The child frowned. “I know that. I was teasing.”
It ran in the family, she thought. Taking the child’s hand had brought her close enough to Lorne to feel the whisper of his breath against her cheek, bringing with it another trace of the masculine French aftershave lotion mingling with his own compelling male scent. The combination spoke of balmy walks under the stars and moonlit swims and endless nights in the arms of a lover. She blinked hard. The experience of nearly drowning must be affecting her more than she realized.
The moment was shattered when a solidly built man in a white shirt and dark trousers lumbered up to them. “I’m sorry about the interruption, Your Highness. Nori insisted on seeing you and took off before his nanny or I could stop him.”
Shock rippled through Allie and her legs started to buckle. Your Highness? No wonder Lorne had expected her to recognize him. A detail she had barely absorbed from the guide book came rushing back to her: de Marigny was the name of Carramer’s ruling family. She had gatecrashed the royal residence. If she hadn’t been so groggy from her ordeal she would probably have recognized his name.
You take the lead. In her head she replayed her own foolish words and his imperious reply. I usually do. At least she hadn’t called him Lorne. The penalty for that was probably beheading with a rusty sword or some such. It was a wonder he hadn’t called his guards instead of coming to her aid himself when she washed up at his feet. As it was, she couldn’t have made a bigger fool of herself if she’d tried.
“It seems I owe you an apology, Your Highness. I had no idea,” she said, holding her anger in check with difficulty. He might have told her the truth and saved her a lot of embarrassment, but she could hardly say anything without making matters worse.
He waved away her concern. “It was a novel experience not to be recognized.”
Her blood began to boil, threatening to overrule common sense. “I’m glad I provided a diversion, Your Highness. Court jesters must be in short supply in Carramer.”
Her anger evidently caught
