The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection. Кейт Хьюит
“Fine.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I said it was fine.”
“I know. So what’s wrong with it?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Adam will love it. You look very…regal. Quite proper. The pearls are a great touch.”
“But you don’t like it?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m shallower than Adam. The regal look’s not my thing. Give me a short, shimmery black dress anyday.”
She smiled. “I hope someday you find a tramp who’ll make you very happy.”
He smiled back. Finally. His first real smile of the day. A smile a person could almost grow to depend upon, bringing with it a little jolt to her insides, stronger even than that first cup of coffee in the morning. “I intend to search the world over till I find her.”
Stairs were wheeled to the jet and the crew opened the door.
“Right, then, Alexia, let’s get this show on the road.”
Rafe stood, ready to walk with her to the exit and thank the pilot and crew who stood waiting by the door. Ready to hand her over to Adam and put her from his mind. She slipped his card into her purse and stood, too. Glancing at the door, then back at him, she placed a tentative hand on his arm. “Will you call me Lexie?”
He hesitated.
“I need one person here who does.”
He nodded. Reluctantly. “Lexie,” he sighed her name. Her grateful smile was pure innocence, and all he could think was sexy, sexy, Lexie. What he’d like to say to her and do with her were eons away from innocence. It had been torment enough just sitting so close beside her in the theater last night. Her rapturous sighs, her delighted laughter. And then that kiss. Damn that stupid kiss, that taste of temptation, that taste of the forbidden. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said the only reason there was no tongue in it was because he knew who she was. That was also the only reason he hadn’t kept her in that box and gone on kissing her. They wouldn’t have been disturbed. He could have slid his hands up her legs, pulled her against him. He could have—Stop. He had to stop this. He’d call the sophisticated and available divorcée he’d met last week as soon as he handed Lexie—Alexia, dammit—over.
There would be two cars at the airport. He and Adam seldom traveled together. It wouldn’t do to have both male heirs wiped out at once in the event of either an accident or an act of terrorism. He’d be on his own at last. Away from her smile, away from her scent. Away from her hopeful, idealistic naivety.
He’d hand her to Adam, he’d see the two of them together and cement it in his mind that she belonged with his brother, her knight in shining armor. The most she could ever be to him was his sister-in-law.
Security staff escorted them to the terminal. Alexia walked close to him. There was tension in the rigid set to her shoulders, in the stiffly held neck. He wanted to take her hand, in a brotherly fashion, he tried to tell himself. Reassuring. But far too open to misinterpretation. So instead he turned to Joseph, the family’s head of security. “This is quite a crowd.” Because despite what he’d said to Alexia, the crowd was considerably larger than he’d expected.
“The forthcoming anniversary celebrations. There’s been something of an upsurge of interest in all things royal. It’s been building for some time.”
Had it? He hadn’t noticed.
“And of course there’s the young lady herself.”
She didn’t turn her head, but Rafe knew she’d heard. She really would make a good royal. He asked on her behalf. “Alexia? Why?”
“The people know she’s a Wyndham. They know the families are close. There’s been some speculation.”
Speculation that because her family once had a claim to the throne that a union now between the two families would somehow complete a circle.
Lexie did glance at him then, her face a little paler than before. He winked. “Just smile and wave, babe. Smile and wave.”
She winked back, a twinkle in her moss-green eyes, then did exactly as he’d suggested. A cheer went up in the crowd along with hundreds of fluttering San Philippe flags.
Minutes later, Rafe leaned against a pillar and watched her from across the royal lounge in the terminal building. Prince Henri, looking far too pleased with himself, had formally welcomed her. Rafe had been surprised to see his father here, revealing just how much importance he was placing on this venture succeeding. Then his sister, Rebecca, had hugged her, and last but by no means least, she had turned to Adam.
And now Lexie—no, Alexia—stood talking to his older brother, pleasure shining in her face.
Adam smiled back at her, his charismatic best. Rafe could discern none of the resentment he would have felt if he was meeting a woman he’d been told he was going to marry.
Of course, Adam was better than that. He was both diplomatic and charming. It was easy to see why Alexia, Alexia, Alexia—he’d say it over to himself a hundred times if he had to—fancied herself half in love with him. He just hoped Adam valued what he was getting. Because though he could be diplomatic and charming—that was part of his job description—he could also be self-absorbed, distant and, well, boring. And though Rafe had originally thought Alexia boring, too, he’d realized the conservatism was a front. A charade, even if she believed it, for the role she wanted to play.
Rafe watched as Adam touched her arm and smiled. Alexia laughed. Demurely.
Mission accomplished. He was free to forget about her and get on with his own life. Rafe turned and slipped away.
Six
Lexie tried to concentrate. Her dinner companion, a senior San Philippe politician, his chest weighted down with medals, whose name she had already forgotten, was explaining the evolution of the country’s political system. Sadly, the throbbing in her head and the complexities of the system combined to leave her floundering. The enthusiastic playing of the band wasn’t helping her efforts. She could only hope that her smiles and nods at least convinced her companion that she was both following and interested in his discourse, and not secretly wondering whether it was too soon to leave. He paused to reach across the table for a profiterole.
At first the state dinner had been exciting, the long tables set with so much silver cutlery and crystal that beneath the light of the chandeliers they gleamed with the brilliance of diamonds. Then there were the guests, the elite and powerful of San Philippe, the beautiful of San Philippe. But after a while it had become just another dinner spent having to make conversation with people she didn’t know.
Which wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been for her steadily worsening headache. A maid had styled her hair. Lexie loved the elegant twist—it was perfect for a formal dinner, but she hadn’t realized quite how tightly her hair had been pulled until the aching in her head began.
She found herself yearning for pizza eaten in silence while she looked out over city lights at nighttime, her feet resting on an ottoman.
Massaging her temple, Lexie looked at the head table, where Adam sat deep in conversation with an elder statesman. He had explained that it would be best for them not to be seated together tonight. No point in adding fire to the already circulating rumors just yet. She completely understood and agreed. Already she felt as if she were under a microscope.
Looking around she caught sight of Rafe, farther up her table and on the opposite side, watching her. She couldn’t fathom the expression in his dark eyes and couldn’t quite explain the effect it had on her, causing a strange discomfort. He raised his wineglass in a mock salute, then turned to the voluptuous, sophisticated blonde at his side.
Lexie’s companion finished his profiterole, wiped cream from his fingers onto his linen napkin and invited her to