Leslie Kelly, Jennifer LaBrecque Read online

  “Never mind,” he said, wondering how long she would play this stranger-in-a-strange-land game.

  She shook her head. “How is this possible?”

  “They say everyone has a double somewhere in this world.”

  “Or in the next,” she muttered, sinking down in shock. She suddenly looked more ready to fall over than leap on somebody. Pity, since he was the only somebody around.

  Forget it. It was all in your head.

  He’d been talking about a one-night stand and she’d been talking to another guy entirely. The whole thing had been a case of mistaken identity, he saw that now.

  Well, there was one positive thing. At least she wasn’t entirely crazy. Despite the prince stuff, he truly believed she had been looking for someone who looked like him.

  She proved it by reaching into a pouch on her belt, grabbing a locket the size of a silver dollar. “See for yourself.”

  She handed him the locket, which was ornate and looked old. It was made of a strangely colored greenish metal he couldn’t identify. Studying the picture, he saw a miniaturized image of himself. His face, his eye color, his nose, his chin. The hair was shorter, the eyes a little closer together, the lips more thin. But otherwise, this guy could be his double.

  “This is your prince?”

  “Yes, Prince Ruprecht,” she said, a wondering note still in her voice. “And you truly are not he?”

  Rafe slowly shook his head. “I definitely am not he.”

  She took a deep breath, still staring, her gaze roving over him from head to foot. As she looked, she visibly relaxed. Her jaw became less stiff, her back lost its ramrod straightness. Her sensual lips parted and her tongue flicked out to moisten them.

  Her whole demeanor suddenly changed. It was as if she was finally looking at him and not seeing this prince guy. Why she would be happy about that, since it meant her job had just gotten harder, he didn’t know. But her next words confirmed she was.

  “Oh, thank Athena. Then I have not completely lost my senses.”

  OLIVIA COULDN’T HIDE HER relief as she realized the truth.

  He wasn’t Ruprecht. She hadn’t been struck with a sudden, shocking interest in a man for whom she had absolutely no respect, one for whom she’d never spared a thought in the past.

  She wouldn’t call it lust. Or desire. She’d worked those female weaknesses out of herself, deciding to follow the true Amazon path of celibacy, though she knew of some who engaged in the occasional discreet dalliance.

  But not her. Never her. So this reaction to him had truly caught her by surprise.

  No matter. Whatever the cause of those strange sensations he’d invoked in her, the point remained. The man sitting across from her was not Prince Ruprecht. Not the boy she’d loathed. Not the weak-kneed prince. Not the old king’s son.

  She couldn’t recall a moment when she’d been more relieved.

  “What are you called?” she asked.

  “Rafe Cabot.”

  “Rafe Cabot.” A nice name. Different. She liked how it filled her mouth. “I apologize, Rafe. I was in error.”

  He shrugged, as if she hadn’t attacked him in a dark thoroughfare a short time ago. “It’s okay. I made a mistake, too. Thinking you meant something you obviously didn’t mean.”

  Not understanding, she merely waited.

  “So what are you going to do now?”

  She glanced out the windows at the pitch-black night. The sun wouldn’t rise for some time yet. Time was shaped differently here, with longer minutes, longer hours—though things apparently evened out since Elatyria had more days in its months and years. “I’ll return to my campsite nearby, await the dawn, then begin again to look for the prince.”

  “A campsite? In the city?” His brow quirked over his incredibly attractive, gleaming eyes. “Just stay. I dragged you over here, I can at least offer you my couch for a few hours.”

  “Thank you, but I must return to my mission.” Though she knew he was skeptical of her story—since fewer people on Earth were as aware of Elatyria’s existence as her people were aware of Earth’s—she explained. “Time is running out and the queen is likely growing impatient.”

  “The queen. Right.”

  “You doubt me?”

  “I’ve got a pretty open mind,” he told her. “If you say there’s a country I’ve never heard of, with some bitchy queen who wants her son back, I’m not going to argue.” Then, he asked, “What if I told you I could help you find this prince?”

  “How?”

  Rafe rose to his feet. She looked up at him, breathing air that felt thicker, heavier. Like she was moving through a dense fog. For here, indoors, his breadth became much more apparent.

  How she’d ever taken him for the lean prince of her youth, she had no idea. Because while his face certainly resembled Ruprecht’s, his strong, powerful body definitely did not.

  “The people who’ve been mistaking me for this guy? I suspect they usually hang out in one particular part of the city. I think this Rupie might be onstage, too.”

  “I doubt that,” she said, wondering now how she had been foolish enough to think the arrogant prince would exert himself to entertain people he considered peasants.

  “Judging by some things people have said, I get the feeling he might be performing in drag.”

  “What is…in drag?”

  “I’ll explain it tomorrow. Just trust me on this.” Crossing the large room, he opened a door set into the wall, revealing a closet. He pulled out linens, then carried them over to the couch. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll help you find this prince.”

  Olivia rose to her feet. “But I don’t understand. Despite what you say about your gaping mind…”

  “Open,” he interjected.

  “Your open mind, I still have the impression you didn’t believe what I told you. So why would you want to help me?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Probably because I do believe this guy is out there, and I’d like to see for myself why people are mistaking me for him.”

  She had to admit it. “You’re nothing like him.”

  “Took you long enough to notice.”

  Lowering her eyes, she mumbled, “I was blind.”

  “Forget it. Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

  The man was obviously trusting. He didn’t know her, couldn’t know how highly she valued her honor, and yet he had opened his home to her and intended to let her stay.

  “You have my thanks. Please be assured I will not take advantage of your kindness,” she said.

  “Got it.” He jerked a thumb toward another closed door. “Guest bathroom’s in there. Help yourself to whatever you need.”

  Then he headed toward the back section of the living quarters, where a large screen separated the area from what appeared to be a sleeping chamber, complete with a bed sized for a king. But before he ducked behind it, he said, “Answer me one thing.”

  “Of course.”

  “Why did you seem so relieved when you finally figured it out? You seemed almost happy I’m not the guy you’re looking for.”

  Blunt, knowing no other way to be, she said, “I was relieved to know it hadn’t been Prince Ruprecht whose kiss I enjoyed.”

  His jaw dropped. “Wait, that was you enjoying a kiss?”

  Offering him a brief nod, she said, “It was.”

  “Jeez, lady, I’d hate to see what happens to you when you come. Do you actually, I dunno, breathe a little hard?”

  “Come where?”

  He froze. Though he stood several feet away, she could almost feel the tension of his body. “I mean, when you climax. Have an orgasm?”

  She shook her head, still not following.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know what an orgasm is.”

  She licked her lips, remaining silent.

  “You don’t know what that is?”

  “You instructed me not to tell you.”

  He thrust a hand through his lo
ngish hair again, and Olivia was suddenly curious about what it felt like. Just as he’d tangled his fingers in hers, she suddenly wanted to do the same, to test the silkness, to hold him close while they tried another one of those kisses she’d obviously gotten terribly wrong, if he thought she hadn’t liked it.

  “What country did you say you’re from? It’s not one of those crazy ones where women aren’t allowed to feel pleasure, is it? Because that would be a crime against nature.”

  “I am capable of feeling great pleasure,” she said, striving to sound cool since she suspected he was making fun of her. “I take pleasure in my training and in protecting others.”

  He stepped closer, his stare never leaving her face. “Not that kind of pleasure.”

  Clearing her throat, she wondered why, as he stepped closer, she was reminded of a predator stalking its prey. Because nobody in their right mind would ever call her prey. “I enjoy sporting games and competitions.”

  Another step. His eyes seemed to grow darker, his mouth curled up on one corner.

  “And…and battle.”

  Laughing softly, he came closer still, until only a few inches separated them. “I’m talking about pleasures of the flesh, Olivia. The pleasure a man and woman give each other with their naked bodies.”

  She swallowed. “You refer to sexual stimulation?”

  He lifted a hand, scraping his thumb across her lip. “Yes.”

  Her voice shook as she replied, “’Tis the truth, I have not found much pleasure in that.”

  “Then somebody’s been doing it wrong.”

  Bristling, she said, “I do nothing unless I can do it well.”

  Smiling gently, Rafe leaned closer and whispered, “I didn’t mean you, sweetheart.”

  He didn’t say anything more. Instead, he simply acted, covering her mouth in another of those confusing kisses. This one started hot and deep, fast, hungry. His warm tongue explored her mouth again; she suddenly desired to reciprocate. She tasted back, enjoying the intrinsic push and pull, give and take, that seemed to come naturally between them.

  Unable to resist, she leaned into him, again noting the hardness of his chest and arms. And, now that she was attuned to it, she acknowledged how hard the rest of him was.

  His manhood, pressing into her groin, was thick and solid; it felt hot even through his clothing. A hitchy cry got stuck in the back of her throat. She felt helpless against the urge to press harder against him, wondering at the strange sensations.

  Feelings swept over her, feelings she’d never experienced before—not even at her bacchanalia when she’d tasted the fruits of the body and firmly rejected them.

  This kissing, it was a powerful thing.

  When he at last drew his mouth away from hers, she wanted to follow him and continue it. But Rafe kept his hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. “When’s the last time you were kissed like that?”

  “I’ve never been kissed like that.”

  She saw the muscles in his throat work as he asked, “Are you telling me you’re a… Olivia, have you ever been with a man?”

  The idea brought a laugh to her mouth. “Of course. I’ve been with many men. I’ve just not been kissed in such a way.”

  Some of the sparkle had left his eyes, and he nodded as he backed up. Olivia got the feeling she’d disappointed him, though she’d only been answering his question.

  “Okay,” he said, turning to walk toward his sleeping chamber. “Well, get some sleep. We’ll find your prince tomorrow.”

  “Rafe Cabot?”

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Thank you again for your kindness.”

  “You’re welcome, Olivia. Sleep well.” Then he disappeared behind that screen.

  Remaining in the larger chamber, she slowly took off her belt, unsheathing the small knife at her hip.

  Moving in silence, she slipped out of her clothing, down to bare skin, as always. She did it by rote, however; all her attention remained on that screen. It was effective at providing privacy—but only until he turned on a light within. Because the moment he did, the man was displayed most remarkably, his every move underscored, made larger, more…distracting.

  She should have called out, warned him somehow. But her tongue had grown thick in her mouth and she felt incapable of making a sound.

  Rafe began to remove his clothes, lifting the shirt away from his powerful body and tossing it down. Her fingers started that funny tingling again, as she thought about how that bare, golden skin would look, feel, taste.

  But he wasn’t finished. His hand moved to his middle. Olivia gulped as she watched him unfasten his denims and push them past those lean hips, kicking them away. Whatever he’d had on beneath went, too. Because when he turned slightly, and she saw his entire silhouette, she knew he was utterly, gloriously naked.

  And still erect. Utterly, gloriously erect.

  “Goddess give me strength,” she whispered, wondering why she couldn’t stop staring. Why her mouth went dry and her limbs felt weak as she saw that undeniably thick ridge of manly flesh rising from between his powerful legs. Why, she actually gasped, her hips jerking reflexively as she watched him reach down and encircle that shaft with one hand, bracing himself against his bedpost with the other.

  Did he mean to…to…

  “Mercy!” she yelped, forgetting to keep her voice down.

  He froze, as if he’d heard her and realized at last that his actions might not be as private as he’d thought. His hand dropped; he moved to the lamp and extinguished it. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she said, then realized the word had barely squeaked out of her tight throat. “I mean, I’m fine. Sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  She heard him climb into his bed, unable to see a thing now through the dark screen. But that didn’t stop the pictures in her mind, didn’t prevent her imagination from visualizing what he was right now doing beneath its covers.

  She’d seen the male sex before, had allowed herself to be penetrated by it. And she hadn’t much cared about what she’d be missing if she gave up ever experiencing that again.

  For many years, she hadn’t missed it, not once.

  Now? Something was happening to her. Her breath began to come in shallow gasps and she couldn’t stop those tiny, helpless thrusts of her hips. The area between her thighs began to throb and she had never been as aware of her own empty core—and how much she wanted it filled—as in that single moment. She even slid her hands down her naked body, sensitive to every brush of skin on skin, wondering how his strong, rough fingers would feel instead of her own.

  She’d never felt this way. Not once in her life. And she didn’t know what to do about that.

  Nothing. You’ll do nothing except sleep, Captain.

  Yes, sleep. She’d awaken tomorrow and these strange feelings would be gone. He would be merely a man, no different than any other, and she would focus on the job she had come here to do.

  She wished she could do that job without his help. Considering the strange reactions he brought forth in her, she suspected it would be a good idea to get away from him.

  But she needed him. He seemed certain he could assist in her search, and he knew the city far more than she ever could. She had already wasted several days and the clock was ticking as the coronation day fast approached.

  Like it or not, she needed his assistance. So tomorrow, she would let the stranger help her find the prince. Then she would return to Elatyria. Never to see him again. Never to feel like this again.

  Which was a good thing. A very good one. Even though, as sleep finally started to overtake her, she felt a brief, fleeting moment of loss.

  What, she wondered, would happen if she did give in to her curiosity, her surprising want, and just took the man?

  It was a shocking idea.

  And one that inspired a long, wicked night of equally shocking dreams.

  4

  THE WARRIOR PRINCESS slept naked.
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  That shouldn’t have surprised him. Rafe slept that way, too. But rising from his bed, pulling on some jeans and heading for the kitchen to make coffee, and then noticing his sexy houseguest had not a stitch on, wasn’t the most relaxing way to start a day.

  One of the most pleasurable, certainly. But not relaxing.

  She was, without a doubt, the most perfectly shaped female he had ever seen. That black leather getup she’d worn last night hadn’t covered a lot, and he’d known she had some major curves. But he hadn’t anticipated how inviting the slopes of her breasts were, or the way her dark, pert nipples would look when covered by nothing but a few strands of long, blond hair.

  Frozen in shock at first, he quickly pulled himself together, spun around and headed back toward his bed. But it hadn’t been soon enough; he’d gotten an eyeful. Two eyes full. And the images weren’t going to leave his brain for a long time. Not just of the lush curves of her breasts, but of the slim waist, the flared hips, the incredibly long legs, lean and sculpted with muscle.

  Turned on her side the way she was, with her legs bent, the top one slightly forward, he hadn’t been tortured with a glimpse of what he suspected would be a gorgeous tuft of curls between her thighs. But his imagination was still doing a damn fine job of pretending he had.

  He couldn’t go back out there, not yet. Not when his hard-on, the one he’d been forced to go to sleep with last night, had returned with a vengeance.

  Moving around his room, he slammed a few drawers, trying to make noise. But he heard nothing from his houseguest. Finally, he decided to try to distract himself and make use of the time he had. Grabbing his laptop, he sat on the bed and got online.

  He should have started by looking for this Rupie guy, but something about her story made him curious to learn more about Olivia Vanderbrook. So he began to search the Internet for things like her name, as well as Prince Ruprecht and Elatyria, glad she’d treated him like a kid and spelled them out.

  He found nothing. Not a mention anywhere of her, or this supposedly AWOL prince, or his mother, or even his country.

  “Okay, so what are you up to,” he mused, glancing at the privacy screen, seeing no movement on the other side. Frankly, he was surprised the woman was still sleeping. He had expected she’d be up at dawn, ordering him to get a move on. Of course, if she had really been sleeping at some campsite, she could just be comfortable for the first time in a while.