The Princess and the Duke Page 9

  Pierce slowly walked over to her. She flipped the lock on the doorknob and pulled it shut behind them. He should never have let Selwyn Estabon goad him into joining the festivity. His instincts to stay away had been right on the money. Because every minute he spent in Meredith’s company he felt himself sinking ever deeper into emotions he’d denied for too damn long.

  “What I wish, Meredith, is that I could look at you just once and not see the woman, but only the princess.”

  Her soft lips parted, and her eyes suddenly filled with a liquid sheen that made the ache deep inside him intensify tenfold. “I—”

  “But it doesn’t matter.” He forced the words. “Nothing can come of it.”

  “Because of your Ms. Elusive?”

  He cupped her jaw, watching her eyes flicker. “You don’t get it. You are the elusive one. Only you.”

  “Pierce—”

  He smoothed his thumb gently over her lips. “Don’t.”

  She caught his wrist in both her hands. But she didn’t pull it away. And she closed her eyes, pressing a kiss against this thumb, nearly undoing any good intentions he tried to maintain. “Please,” she whispered.

  She could be his salvation. Or his undoing. Either was too dangerous to contemplate.

  “I’ll end up hurting you,” he muttered. His fingers slid from the silky arch of her jaw to her nape. Molding the shape of her head.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do know.”

  She let go of his wrist and slid her hands up his chest. Touching his neck, his jaw. “Pierce—”

  “Meredith, we can’t.” He pressed his lips against her temple. “I can’t.”

  “Won’t.”

  “The results are the same.”

  She made a soft sound. “It was easier when we rarely saw each other, and then only during some meeting or other.”

  “Yes.”

  She pulled back her head, searching his face. “I don’t understand you at all.”

  “Don’t waste the effort trying. Go out with George Valdosta if he can stay sober enough to behave. Better yet, find someone who is good enough for you. Live your life. Fall in love. Get married. Have kids.”

  “I’d like to,” she said huskily. “Except I think we both know you’re the only man I’ve ever been able to think of in those kind of terms. So you might as well just kiss me now, Pierce. Because the hurting began long ago.”

  “Dammit, Meredith—”

  “One kiss,” she whispered, stepping closer. “Just one kiss—”

  He’d always been a sinner. When he covered her mouth with his, though, it felt like he’d been granted a glimpse of heaven.

  Chapter Eight

  He tasted of chocolate, and the coffee she’d noticed someone bringing him partway through the afternoon. He tasted of Pierce. He tasted right. Just exactly right.

  And when he pulled away, sucking in a harsh breath, she was dimly aware that the moaning little sound of dismay had come from her. He tucked her head in the curve between his shoulder and neck that seemed as though it had been designed strictly with her in mind, and she felt his heart beating hard through the soft fabric of his shirt.

  It matched hers beat for racing beat.

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” he muttered, his lips burning along her temple.

  “No.” She twisted, trying to find his lips, and when he evaded her, she pressed her mouth against his neck. Tasted the pulse throbbing at the base. “It’s good,” she murmured against him. “Very, very good.”

  Her lips nibbled the sharp blade of his jaw, the small dent in his chin. Whispered over his lips, sighed his name when, with a husky oath, he covered her mouth with his, surrounding her with his arms, pulling her tight against him.

  Her senses simply exploded.

  Then it was only racing hands and marauding kisses. Kisses that had been years in the waiting, and were, impossibly, all the more sweet for it. His hair felt like silk between her fingers, and his scent filled her head. She could no more fight the rampant emotion flooding her veins than she could resist touching him. Holding him. Wanting him in ways that went far beyond physical.

  “Bloody hell.” His voice was rough, barely audible, barely cutting through her senses.

  But then he yanked her hands away from his neck, and Meredith gasped, swayed, as he backed away from where he’d pressed her against the door. She breathed his name, instinctively reached for him.

  He moved away. “We can’t do this.”

  Her lips were still tingling, her breath tumbling past her swollen lips. “I thought we were doing quite well.” Her voice was faint.

  He raked back his hair. “We’re nearly standing out in the middle of my base.”

  She couldn’t believe her daring and blamed it on the dazed cloud fogging her brain. “We could go some—”

  “No!”

  He began pacing back and forth in front her. Five short strides one way. Five the other. Looking like some caged animal, desperate for freedom. “We do that, and you’re going to end up in my bed.”

  “You don’t want me in your bed?”

  He bared his teeth a little. “Meredith, I swear, you’d try the patience of Job.”

  The cloud around her was clearing rapidly enough to cause her a physical ache. She tugged down the hem of her shirt. “My mother used to tell me that when I was five and begging to accompany her on her foreign engagements.”

  “I’d say my reaction to you and your mother’s reaction to you are somewhat different.” His tone was arid.

  Meredith pushed her fingertips inside her front pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Undoubtedly.”

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  “If you’re asking for suggestions, I’d be happy to remind you that—”

  He lifted a hand. “Enough.”

  She tucked the tip of her tongue between her teeth for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said, striving for some humor, when all she felt like doing was throwing herself humiliatingly into his arms again, “but you do realize that you’ve just shushed a princess.”

  “I’ve just about mauled a princess,” he muttered.

  And he looked terrifically upset about it. “I’d hardly term it that. Rumpled her feathers some, maybe.”

  He looked upward, as if for patience. “Darling, we didn’t rumple, we burned.”

  “I thought it was pretty fabulous, actually. Burning.” She couldn’t help it if she sounded diffident. The man completely unnerved her. Derailed her usual composure. Set her swinging on a pendulum from delirium to desperation, and while it was absolutely too tantalizing to step away from, there was a small portion of her brain that wondered what kind of insanity she was entertaining.

  “Fabulous only goes so far.”

  She was sickeningly aware that she understood him not one bit more than she ever had. “I’ll have to take your word on that since my experience of fabulous is somewhat limited.”

  He didn’t look as if that statement comforted him any, either. In fact, he looked…well, he looked grim and fierce, and except for the shirt that she must have tugged half loose from his belt, he looked perfectly normal. As if nothing momentous had just occurred between them.

  But maybe it really had only been momentous to her, after all.

  She smoothed her ponytail, annoyed to see that her hands were still trembling. Annoyed to know that while he’d been pressed against her so closely that not even a sigh could have slid between them, she hadn’t been annoyed by her trembling in the least.

  And she was excruciatingly annoyed that there was an ominous burning behind her eyes. Because she absolutely was not going to cry in front of Pierce. Tears were simply and utterly unacceptable.

  Which meant she needed to leave. Immediately.

  But as soon as the thought hit her, she remembered she’d driven herself to the event rather than ridden in the limousine with Anastasia, as she’d known her sister would have to leave early. She’d need her car keys
for her car. Car keys that were safely tucked inside her small little purse. The small little purse she’d forgotten inside Horizons. On the other side of the door she’d already locked.

  All of which made her feel even more infuriatingly close to tears.

  “I need to get inside,” she said stiffly. “Would you be so kind as to call one of the staffers to come and let me in? You should have a phone roster in the material we’ve sent you.”

  He eyed her closely. “There’s no more work to be done inside.”

  “My purse and car keys are locked in there.” Admitting it made her feel foolish. As if she weren’t capable of managing even the most ordinary of tasks.

  Like dipping up ice cream.

  “You’re leaving.”

  “Is there any reason to stay?” She knew the answer to that. Of course she did. She was an intelligent woman, after all. So why, when he merely said they’d go across to his office and he’d call someone, did she feel a last bit of hope inside her wither to nothing?

  She followed him to the big building across from Horizons and up four flights to his office. He was a colonel and a nobleman. Yet his office was barely half the size of her dressing room.

  The metal desk faced away from the window. No doubt he wouldn’t want to be tempted with something so mundane as staring out the window and daydreaming. Behind the desk was a chair that looked as if it dated from the 1950s. Or before. A round metal trash bin sat beside the desk, and four filing cabinets filled one of the walls. In front of the desk sat two wooden straight-back chairs, precisely aligned.

  Other than the mammoth stack of files and books and papers on top of the desk, it was sterile and austere and verging on dreary.

  “You need a plant. A painting. Something to look at in here other than oddly yellow walls.”

  “So my secretary tells me.” He lifted the phone and spoke into it briefly. Then he turned and leaned against the edge of the desk. “Someone will be by to undo the lock in a few minutes. I hadn’t realized you’d driven yourself.”

  “I do drive.”

  “I know. But the mountains around here aren’t quite what you’re used to down around Marlestone.”

  “And since I can’t manage to keep track of my keys without locking them away, I probably can’t manage to navigate myself safely around anything but the simplest of roads? Really, Pierce. Hold onto your hat, but not only have I driven all over Penwyck from North Shore to the south, I’ve also driven in other countries. In America, even. On the wrong side of the road.”

  “I never suggested you were incapable.”

  She ignored him. Gave him as wide a berth as the confining office allowed, and moved to look out the window. The moment she saw someone approach Horizons, she would head down there, she silently vowed.

  She stared at the window, gradually noticing the precise imprint of a hand on the glass, knowing by the size of the palm print, the length of the square-tipped fingers, that it was Pierce’s. “Why did you go down there today?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. “Horizons is on my base.”

  “It was on your base when you declined to participate when we were arranging the day. One of your aides gave the welcome speech, even.” She slowly lifted her hand and fit it within the print on the glass. “You changed your mind. Why?”

  “I ended up with a free afternoon, after all.”

  She looked over her shoulder, eyeing the materials nearly overwhelming the surface of his desk. She knew he was closely involved in the alliances, and those particular matters weren’t allowing anyone extra time these days. “Right.” She returned her attention to the window. It was growing dark, and lights were flicking on around the grounds. On the corners of buildings, atop tall lampposts beside the roads, on the ground along the walkways.

  “Boredom?”

  The fenced-in playground across the way looked peaceful, all signs of the opening celebration gone. The swings were still. The merry-go-round’s bright-blue paint glistened under the floodlight at the corner of the lot. The slide was a silent sentry, and the sand-box and the heavy-duty rubber tires that were arranged in an obstacle course looked like secrets in the dusk. It all looked perfect as it lay in wait for the next child to race from one structure to the next, laughing and playing.

  “I think you stood up here this afternoon in your austere, monklike office, looked down there at the balloons and banners and children and wanted to be part of something vital and cheerful,” she said softly.

  “I didn’t think any of your degrees were in psychology.”

  “They weren’t.”

  “Then I suggest you not quit your day job.”

  She slowly pulled her palm away from the window. She’d left a print, also. Perfectly aligned within his larger one. “Then why?” She turned to face him, but he was still leaning against his desk, looking toward the door. Not looking at her at all. “Why did you go down there?”

  “I wanted ice cream. I wanted to see if I could remember how to pull coins from someone’s ear. I wanted to get some fresh air. I wanted to see up close the people who’ll be a regular part of base life from here on out. Take your pick or make up your own reasoning, I don’t care.”

  “What do you care about?” She saw his shoulders flex against the soft fabric of his shirt, and she moved until she could look into his face. That beautiful face that looked as if it had been carved in granite for all the emotion he allowed to show.

  Except in his eyes. Where a wealth of shadows spoke of things, painful things, of which she knew nothing. It hurt to see those shadows. To know that he held something deep inside him that caused them. To know that she could wish upon a million stars and never be able to help him shed light on them, disperse the shadows once and for all.

  “I care about Penwyck.”

  Such a simple statement, yet one that encompassed so much. “I asked my father once what he cared about.” She smiled faintly, tugging her ear. “I believe I was nineteen and filled with high-minded ideals learned at university, and we were debating something. I can’t even remember what. But I remember asking him that. What he cared about. He said that very same thing. ‘I care about Penwyck.”’

  She wandered to the window. There was still no sign of anyone tending to the locked door across the way. “In general, most citizens would say they cared about their country. But with my father, it meant so much more than that. He’d die for his people if he had to. So would you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Honor,” she murmured. “It’s a powerful thing.” She looked over her shoulder when she heard the scrape of one of the chairs against the tile floor. He’d risen and was straightening the edge of some thick books atop one of the file cabinets. Sighing a little, she looked out the window. A uniformed soldier was crouched by the door of the center. She saw it swing inward.

  “The door’s unlocked.” She moved away from the window and headed out of his office, down the hall. He went with her. “You needn’t see me out,” she said smoothly. “I imagine I’ll find my way just fine.”

  “Meredith.”

  “What?”

  “Shut up.”

  She blinked. And stood in silence as he punched the button for the elevator. They rode down in silence, and he waited while she went into the building to retrieve her purse from the shelf on which she’d left it. Then he walked her out to the VIP parking lot and held the door for her as she sank down into her sporty little roadster.

  He slowly pushed the door closed, his hands resting over the top of the door. Close enough to brush her shoulder if he wished. Close enough for her to press a kiss to his knuckles if she dared.

  She swallowed and pushed the key in the ignition. Her temperamental car was serviced weekly by the palace. It started with a soft purr. “Well. Whatever your real reasons were—” she didn’t dare look at him “—I’m glad that you did decide to join us. The children and parents were very happy you were there.” So was I.

  “I went because I couldn’t stay
away from you.”

  Her fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel. She blinked furiously.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No!” Only she made the mistake of looking at him.

  His expression softened, which didn’t help Meredith in the least. It was easier to hold the emotions inside her when he looked as immovable as a hunk of granite. But when his changeable eyes deepened, and the tight line of his lips relaxed, pulling eons from his age, she could feel herself dissolving.

  “This is my fault,” he said gruffly, and lifted his hand, looking pained when she leaned back, bumping her head against the headrest. He continued the motion, though, and slowly thumbed away the tear that was slipping down her cheek. “I knew I would hurt you.”

  “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” Meredith said, but the effect of the tart words was somewhat lost beneath the huskiness of her voice. “You’ll hurt me if you avoid me, you’ll hurt me if you don’t avoid me, you’ll hurt me if you l-love me.” She shrugged, striving for nonchalance and failing miserably. “You might just as well have taken me to bed, Pierce. Then at least you’d have something in exchange for all this trouble.”

  “Making love is a hell of a lot more important than an exchange,” he said.

  “Right. Whatever you say.”

  “Meredith, don’t sit there and act as if you blithely sleep around in exchange for anything. You’re too—”

  “Cold? Removed? Uppity? I believe all the terms have been applied to me at one point or another.”

  “Too honorable.”

  She swallowed, wondering if she’d ever be rid of the lump in her throat. “Honor doesn’t keep you warm at night,” she whispered. “And as it happens, the issue’s never been put to the test.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”