Fit for a King Read online

  Jamaica was the stuff of dreams, she mused. Pirate legends and fascinating people. Her eyes turned toward a distant hill, at the top of which the structure called Rose Hall perched. If legend was fact, its long-ago owner, Annee Palmer, whom the locals had dubbed the White Witch of Rose Hall, had murdered three husbands and several lovers there, in addition to practicing voodoo and brutalizing her slaves.

  Once, after a tour of the spooky house, Elissa had had nightmares for days. One night, she recalled, she’d awakened screaming, and she’d heard a pounding at her door. King, his pajama bottoms peeking out above the waistband of his trousers testifying to his haste in rushing to her cottage, had, upon assessing that nothing was wrong, laughed at her indulgently and cradled her like a child. Even then, she reflected, sitting on the edge of her bed and holding her, he hadn’t seemed to notice her as a woman. There had been nothing remotely sexual about the comfort he’d given her. And yet now, after last night, it was impossible to think of him in a nonsexual way.

  She stepped down onto the beach and saw that King’s car was gone. Where was he? she wondered briefly. Deciding it was really none of her business, she brushed back her hair and turned once again to watch the big passenger ship in the distance wend its way seaward. Her cottage was too far off the beaten track for much contact with city life, and she liked it that way. All the same, it must be fascinating to live in Mo’ Bay, as everyone called Montego Bay, and see the people who visited the island from those grand oceangoing hotels.

  With her coffee cup in her hands, she sat down on the warm sand and watched the graceful casuarina pines blow in the wind. It was heaven here. So peaceful and quiet and exquisitely unpolluted.

  Her eyes drifted closed, and suddenly she envisioned herself on the beach with King, in the moonlight, making wild, passionate love, with the surf crashing around them….

  Her eyes popped open, and she jumped to her feet so quickly that she almost upended her coffee all over herself. Dazed by her wayward thoughts, she stumbled back inside and went straight to work. And this time she did three designs that satisfied her creative instincts.

  It was the longest day she could remember. At dusk she heard Warchief go off like an air-raid siren and wished that she could get him and bring him home, but it was misting rain and he was better off where he was for the time being. She was feeling unaccountably lonely, and she missed having him on his big T-stand perch in the living room, chattering away and begging scraps when she broke off work for a snack or a meal. She almost always ended up sharing fresh fruits and vegetables and bread, which he ate with evident enjoyment.

  She sighed, turning away from the window. She missed her bird. She was going to miss King even more. After last night, she was sure he wouldn’t have anything else to do with her. She still found it amazing that he’d wanted to take her to bed. She was glad she’d had the sense to refuse, but she still flushed thinking about what she’d let him do to her by those sliding glass doors. Best to put such errant thoughts out of her mind, she chided herself.

  Just after dark, she was puttering around the kitchen in shorts and a long-sleeved man’s shirt when she saw King drive up to his villa, accompanied by Bobby and Bess. She frowned. Weren’t they supposed to have left that morning?

  Minutes later, her phone rang.

  “I’m home,” King said in a deep, sexy tone that she knew instantly was a ruse. “Why don’t you come over and have a drink? Bess and Bobby are staying the night with me.”

  She fished for excuses. “I have to feed the hermit crabs and put out lobster pots….”

  “I’ll see you in five minutes,” he said, ignoring her feeble attempt at humor, and hung up.

  She glared at the telephone. She wanted to call him back and tell him what he could do with his overbearing attitude, but now that she’d begun this horrible charade, she felt obliged to go through with it. Why, she didn’t know.

  After changing into a strappy little black dress, hose and high heels, she tramped across to King’s house.

  Warchief went into raucous ecstasies of welcome at her arrival. “Quiet, sweet thing,” Elissa scolded playfully, nodding to Bobby and a subdued Bess as she went to pet her parrot.

  Evidently he’d lost his inclination to bite. He blazed his eyes, docilely bent his head for her to scratch and cooed, “Hello, pretty thing.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, you horrible bird,” she murmured, nuzzling her nose against his head.

  “I wouldn’t put my nose that close to him,” Bess gasped.

  “Wise decision,” King remarked easily. “He’s totally unpredictable. He won’t let anyone except Elissa that close.”

  “Now go to sleep,” Elissa whispered when she’d scratched his green head enough to satisfy Warchief and his eyes were nearly closed.

  She busied herself covering his cage, uneasier around King than she’d ever been in the two years she’d known him. She couldn’t even manage to meet his eyes, she was so confused.

  “I expected to find you already over here,” Bess remarked. Dressed in flowing yellow lounging pajamas that suited her blondness, she leaned back on the big white sofa.

  “I had some designs to work on,” Elissa replied.

  “She works better at her own cottage, where there are fewer distractions,” King remarked, his dark eyes narrow on her averted face.

  Bobby hadn’t said a word, except to greet Elissa warmly. He was bent over financial reports spread all over the coffee table, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.

  Bess gave him a weary glance before she turned back to study Elissa and King. “So what’s with you two? You barely seem to be speaking,” she observed. Her eyes openly flirted with King.

  King cleared his throat and stared hard at Elissa. “How astute of you to notice, Bess. Actually, Elissa and I had a little tiff, but it’s nothing, really.”

  “Yes,” Elissa began, glaring at him. “I simply lost control and threw myself at—” Suddenly she found herself being grabbed by the hand and dragged into a bedroom.

  “Rape!” she yelled, and Bobby surprised everyone by bursting out with laughter.

  King closed the door behind them, his face livid. He leaned back against the door, watching her retreat to the window.

  “Stop that,” he growled. “You’re slitting my throat!”

  “Good. I’ll bet you bleed ice water,” she returned, her eyes wide and accusing.

  “I shouldn’t have said what I said last night,” he began slowly. “I’m sorry. I can’t begin to explain why I did it.”

  “You were drunk and so was I,” she replied to save face.

  His eyebrow made an arch. “On three drinks?”

  “I’m not used to liquor of any sort,” she defended herself. “And unless I’m mistaken, you don’t drink much, either.”

  His powerful shoulders rose and fell. In his white slacks and a red-and-white knit shirt, he looked impossibly handsome. His dark eyes ran up and down her body, and she knew he was remembering, as she had, how it had been between them. Her heart pounded once again at the sheer impact of that memory.

  “Bobby postponed his flight until tomorrow morning,” he said a few moments later. “He thought it would be fun if the four of us flew back to the States together.”

  “I can’t,” she protested. “Warchief—”

  “I’ve got a sitter, as usual,” he returned. “I can’t stay here or Bess will get a migraine or find some excuse to stay with me. Bobby, as you can see, is immersed in his work. He doesn’t even realize what’s happening.”

  “You poor man,” she said coolly.

  He glared at her. “Do you think I can help it?”

  “No.” She sighed, turning away. “I don’t suppose she can help it, either.”

  He came up behind her, his warm, strong hands clasping her arms. She trembled at their touch, so aware of him physically that it made her ache.

  His fingers contracted rhythmically, as if he liked the silky feel of her skin. His breath in
her hair was warm and not quite steady.

  “We can fly to Miami, and then I can drive you to your parents’ house. That will accomplish two things, satisfy my sense of honesty and get Bess out of my hair.”

  So he wasn’t planning to stay, thank God. But what would her parents say at this unexpected visit? They were bound to wonder why she’d cut her vacation short and why King was with her. This entire situation was totally ludicrous. Yet, despite herself, her heart went out to King in his predicament, and she reasoned it wouldn’t hurt her work any to touch base in Florida. Maybe her parents wouldn’t have to see King, and they’d never know that anything was amiss.

  “All right,” she agreed. “I’ll go.”

  “Good girl.”

  She turned and looked up at him. “Yes, I am,” she said quietly. “Try to remember that the next time you decide to make a pass at me.”

  He searched her soft blue eyes. “You and I are an explosive mixture, aren’t we?” he asked, his voice deep and measured.

  Her nails were making quiet patterns on his shirtfront while she looked at him. “Until last night, I never really understood why women couldn’t stop men from making love to them,” she confessed. “It’s very hard to stop, isn’t it?”

  He smiled indulgently. “Well, a woman can tease a man until he’s desperate to have her.”

  “I tease sometimes,” she admitted slowly, searching his darkening eyes, “but I don’t really mean it. Not as a come-on.” She lowered her gaze to his throat. “I’ve always wanted to be more like Bess,” she said. “Sophisticated and worldly and very desirable. But the minute a man comes too close, I freeze. All those old inhibitions rear up, and I run. But I don’t mean to be cruel. It’s … like a fantasy.”

  He tilted her face up to his. “I think I’ve always known that, Elissa,” he said quietly. “And I know you weren’t teasing me. Not deliberately, anyway,” he added with a smile. “Though you did get a little wild.”

  She blushed feverishly.

  “What I’m trying to explain,” he continued, tracing her cheek, “is that I was frustrated and I couldn’t do anything about it. I ended up saying a lot of things I didn’t mean.”

  “So did I,” she replied. “I—I ached.”

  “Not half as much as I did,” he said with a mock groan. He pushed her long hair away from her face. “I lay awake half the night, picturing you nude, on the beach, your arms open for me,” he said huskily.

  “Why, that’s just what I—!” She stopped, her mouth open, horrified at what she’d admitted.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said gently. “You’re human. So am I. We had a little too much to drink, we quarreled—that’s all.”

  “King, you—you won’t try to seduce me?” she asked, afraid that he might out of frustration over Bess and knowing from last night’s experience that he wouldn’t meet much resistance.

  “Could I?” he asked in a smooth, sensuous tone, searching her wide eyes.

  “Yes,” she admitted, lowering her gaze.

  His own reaction startled him; it was instantaneous and overwhelming, and he caught his breath as his body tautened. He saw her blush scarlet at the awareness of what was happening to him, and he muttered unsteadily, “This is absurd.”

  “King?” she whispered, her body throbbing wildly from the knowledge of what her response had done to him.

  “Oh, what the hell,” he breathed, and he bent to her mouth.

  His lips came down on hers and opened them sensuously, while his arms lifted her against him, savoring her soft weight. He carried her to the huge king-size bed and placed her carefully on the black silk coverlet. Then he slid alongside her, his look lazy, his eyes dangerous. Lowering his head, he trailed a string of warm, moist kisses from her temple to her throat.

  “Does this untie?” he murmured, searching her shoulders for the ends of the straps.

  Her lips parted. She thought she wanted to protest, but her body was singing to her, her blood raging in her veins. She wanted his eyes on her, there, his mouth, she wanted …

  “You have bedroom eyes,” he whispered. His fingers found the tiny bows just behind her shoulders, and he untied them very slowly. “When I look in them I can see what you want.”

  “What do I want?” she whispered, her voice husky and unfamiliar to her own ears as she lay beneath him.

  “My eyes,” he replied, drawing the bodice of her dress down just to the soft beginning slope of her breasts. “And my mouth.” He bent his head to her creamy skin, running his lips just beneath her collarbone in slow, sensuous sweeps. His hands were on her rib cage, smoothing the black crepe, his thumbs just under her breasts, touching them as if by accident.

  Her fists clenched beside her head, and her breath caught. He lifted his head, looking at her.

  “You’re trembling,” he breathed, reaching for the top of the bodice.

  “King,” she moaned helplessly.

  “Innocent,” he whispered. He held her eyes as his hands moved, and she felt the cool night air on her breasts as the fabric fell to her waist.

  “Oh!” she whispered softly, arching her body gently.

  His gaze moved slowly down to her breasts, their small pink nipples aroused and hard, her body shuddering a little with the newness of this kind of intimacy.

  “The first time,” he said under his breath. “My God, they’re exquisite.” His lightly callused fingers brushed them, tenderly tracing their contours, touching the hard nipples just lightly enough to make her shudder with pleasure.

  She couldn’t even speak; her throat was tight with exquisite tension.

  “Now,” he whispered, bending. “Now, Elissa, now …”

  His hand cupped her while his mouth opened on her, and she cried out. Then his mouth caught hers, stifling the tiny sound while his hand possessed her, savoring her silky warmth.

  “I could eat you,” he ground out against her eager, open mouth. “I could eat you like candy.”

  Another sound tore from her, and he lifted his head, looking dazedly past her to the radio. His hand trembled as he reached for the volume and turned it on to a heavy reggae beat.

  “Now,” he murmured, “you can make as much noise as you want.”

  Her lips opened to voice a protest, and his crushed down over it, his tongue moving into her mouth with a slow, hungry rhythm, his knee easing between her legs.

  She felt her fingernails digging into the nape of his neck, reveling in the feel of his thick dark hair. Her body was on fire for him; she’d never in her life felt anything as explosively sexual. She wanted fulfillment; she wanted to be part of him, rock with him, writhe under him.

  Her moans grew sharper when his mouth traveled down over her breasts to her waist, her stomach. She moved helplessly in his embrace, feeling his strength, loving his hands, loving the ardor of his warm mouth.

  He paused, breathing raggedly, to strip off his shirt, and she gasped at the sight of him like that, looming over her, his chest thick with dark hair, the bronzed muscles rippling, his face dark with passion, his eyes almost black. She could feel the heat of his body, see the fine tremor of his arms.

  “Come here,” he commanded, kneeling before her.

  She rose to her own knees, and he pulled her to him, pressing her breasts hard against his hair-roughened chest and making her shudder with the fierce pleasure of it. He held her there, kissing her deeply and shifting her against him in the process until her nipples were so sensitized that they burned and her nails dug into his back.

  “I want … you,” was dragged out of her throat. She buried her face in his neck and clung to him, her hips against his, her thighs trembling. “I … want … you.”

  His hands went to her hips, grinding her into him, and a burning sensation shot through her lower body. She shuddered helplessly, gasping with pleasure and barely contained desire.

  “Lie down,” he whispered shakily. “Lie down under me. I’ll make you stop shaking. I’ll make you part of me…
.”

  “The door … is it locked?” she asked huskily, feeling his weight come over her, his hands urgent on her body.

  “Locked?” His hands stilled, and he looked into her feverish eyes. “Elissa?” He swallowed, his bare chest rising and falling with the force of his heartbeat as he looked down at her. “Elissa … I could make you pregnant.”

  She was hardly able to breathe. His eyes were the world. She loved him, and she hadn’t known. He was more than her friend. He was everything. And to have his child—the thought was too wonderful for words.

  Her eyes went down his body possessively, loving its long, powerful lines, loving every inch of him with sweet abandon. Her hips moved sensuously under his, eliciting a groan from him.

  “No, honey,” he whispered, stilling her impatient movements. “Don’t make me. We’ve got to stop while we can.”

  “Why?” she asked dazedly.

  “We can’t make love with Bobby and Bess sitting in the next room.” He laughed brittlely. “I must have been out of my mind to let things go this far.”

  His hands cupped her head, and he dropped a hard, quick kiss onto her lips. Then he sat up, smoothing his hands blatantly over her breasts, his eyes appreciative and boldly possessive. “God, you’re something,” he said. “As hot and wild as I am. We’d set fires together,” he added with what sounded like regret.

  She sat up, too, more than unsettled by the confusing sequence of events and moods. Feeling uncomfortably exposed beneath that frank stare of his, she tugged at her bodice, but his hand prevented her from tugging it up.

  “Not yet,” he murmured. His hand went to her back, arching her over his arm, and his mouth opened, taking her breast inside the moist darkness.

  She shuddered, biting her lip to keep from crying out. It was the sweetest kind of ache he made there, his tongue rubbing lazily at her nipple, his lips tugging at her. She clutched the back of his dark head, holding him there, while his free hand came up just below his mouth and cupped her sensuously.