She glanced at her friend. Amelia seemed a little ill at ease around Prince Dominic. Or maybe it was the four waiters lined up like a firing squad on the far wall or the stone-faced Ian over in the corner making her uneasy.
“He doesn’t like me much, does he?” Madeline asked sotto voce so the bodyguard in question wouldn’t overhear.
“Would you expect otherwise? You threatened to slit my throat,” Dominic replied in an equally quiet tone—but not so quiet she missed the amusement tingeing his voice.
“Madeline!” Amelia squeaked.
Madeline winced. She’d escaped telling Amelia what happened by ducking into the shower and dawdling over dressing for lunch. The extra care she’d taken with her appearance had absolutely nothing to do with impressing Dominic. She didn’t care if he liked her slim-fitting lime-green sundress or her strappy sandals. She’d chosen this outfit because it complemented her eyes and showed off her hard-earned shape.
Right now she needed the confidence booster of looking good because she felt stupid. Not an emotion she enjoyed or one she experienced often, thank goodness. She had a reputation at work for thinking fast on her feet and being good in a crisis. That would be worthless if this debacle slipped out. Talk about jumping to erroneous conclusions…She’d taken a dive into the Mariana Trench.
“Rest assured, Mademoiselle Lambert, Madeline had reason to question her safety. But that is something we shall not discuss around outsiders.” Dominic indicated the waiters with a slight inclination of his head.
His defense surprised Madeline as did the reminder that others would be interested in his life.
“Please be seated.” He touched his hand to the base of Madeline’s spine and sparks skipped up her vertebrae like stones skimming across a pond’s surface. Her breath hitched. She didn’t look at him as she crossed the long room to the lavishly laid table.
Frankly, the entire episode, or rather her lack of perception, was embarrassing. How could she have believed him to be a simple tour guide? From his fluency with languages to his expensive clothing, his regal bearing and complete acceptance of the waiters rushing forward to pull back their chairs, everything about Dominic screamed wealth and privilege.
Dominic stood behind the seat at the head of the table, waiting for the staff to seat Madeline on his right and Amelia on his left. Once the women were settled he sat and commenced a wine tasting ritual that launched a meal more elaborate than any Madeline had ever experienced. Each mouthwatering course arrived hot and fresh from the kitchen, and then finally, what seemed like forever later, the waiters placed dessert in front of them. Dominic dismissed the servers. Only Ian remained in watchful silence.
Madeline stared at the confection in front of her. She didn’t even want to think about how many calories she’d consumed or how many extra hours she’d have to spend in the hotel gym to make up for this meal. But that didn’t stop her from sampling the warm chocolate tart topped with Bavarian cream mousse. She’d never tasted anything as rich, decadent and delicious. Her mouth practically had an orgasm. Her eyes closed and a moan sneaked past her lips.
Embarrassed, she pressed her napkin to her lips and peeked at Dominic only to find his attention riveted on her face. His pupils dilated and his intense gaze shifted to her mouth. His lips parted slightly and he moistened them with his tongue. A slowly indrawn breath expanded his chest.
The raw passion in his eyes torched her body like dry kindling. Memories of his lovemaking licked through her. His touch. His taste. His incredible heat. The powerful surge of his body into hers.
Her skin flushed and dampened. The fabric of her dress abraded her suddenly sensitive br**sts and desire pooled and pulsed in her pelvis.
So much for pretending indifference or forgetting even one second of last night. If a single desire-laden glance from his bedroom blue eyes could bring it all rushing back, then staying out of his bed wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as she’d hoped.
Well, dammit, she’d just have to try harder. Failure wasn’t an option.
She makes the same sound when she cli**xes. Madeline’s moan hit Dominic like a sucker punch. Memories of their passionate night erupted inside him with the force of a volcano. Desire coursed through his veins like streams of molten lava. He instantly recalled the slick, tight heat of her body, the scrape of her nails on his back as she arched beneath him and the band of her legs around his h*ps urging him deeper.
She scowled at him and flicked back her hair. Remembering the sweep of her soft curls across his belly as she took him into her hot, wet mouth made him shudder. From the toes curled in his shoes to his clenched jaw, each of his muscles contracted. Sweat beaded on his upper lip.
He had spent the past two hours waiting for Madeline to become cloying, obsequious and more interested in what his wealth and power could do for her. As soon as she did he was certain his fascination with her would end.
The elaborate luncheon had been but a small sample of the luxuries he could shower upon her now that his identity had been revealed. But instead of using her position as his lover as leverage, other than an occasional unsuccessful attempt to derail the conversational path he’d chosen, she’d been unusually reticent.
She’d barely contributed to the discussion about the sights and clubs she and her suitemates had already visited or the upcoming wedding—the reason for her presence in Monaco. Her friend had been more forthcoming, but Amelia’s comments had only led to more questions about the puzzling Madeline Spencer.
Finally, Amelia pushed her dessert plate away.
“You enjoyed lunch?” He hoped his impatience didn’t show.
“Yes. Thank you so much for including me, Your Highness.”
“Dominic. And it was my pleasure.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Dominic.”
He should be polite and linger over coffee, but he had lost ground to recover and a limited time in which to do so. He stood. “Ian, please escort Mademoiselle Lambert to her suite.”
Madeline shoved back her chair and rose. “I’m going, too.”
Dominic caught her wrist and held firmly when she tried to pull away. Her pulse quickened beneath his fingers. “You and I have unfinished business to discuss.”
She made no attempt to conceal her displeasure as she plopped back into her chair, forcing him to release her. She picked up her fork and stabbed it viciously into her dessert. No doubt she’d rather plant the tines in him.
Looking between him, Madeline and Ian, Amelia hesitated. Dominic suspected she’d stay with the slightest encouragement from her friend, but Madeline waved her away. “It’s okay. I’ll be right there.”
Moments later the door closed behind Ian and Amelia. Dominic refilled Madeline’s wineglass and then his own. “How long did your engagement last?”
“None of your business.” She shoved a bite of confection between her lips and the urge to taste it on her tongue swelled within him. Normally he didn’t care for sweets, but licking the rich cream from Madeline’s skin appealed. Immeasurably.
“Shall I call back your friend? She seemed quite willing to provide information.”
“And you were not in the least bit subtle in prying my personal data out of her.”
He couldn’t stop a smile. “I don’t think she noticed.”
“I noticed.”
“How long?”
She huffed out a breath and pushed away her plate. “Six years.”
“Six years?” What man could possibly allow such an eternity to pass without claiming Madeline as his own? He and Giselle had waited three years, but that was because Giselle had been too young when their engagement began. “Your fiancé had commitment issues?”
“Aren’t you a smart guy to figure that out so quickly. It took me a lot longer.”
“So you once believed in love? And now you don’t.”
“Nice analysis, Dr. Freud. Can I go now?”
“How did you make the transition?”
She blinked. “Huh?”
“How did you make yourself accept the idea of a life without a connection or bond with someone who actually gives a damn about you?”
Her lips parted and her eyes widened. “Holy moly. You’re a romantic.”
He debated telling her about the sterile selection process underway at home, but what point would that serve? It certainly wouldn’t aid his cause in getting Madeline back into his bed and stockpiling his need for passion before he commenced a life without it. And since their relationship was temporary, what happened in Montagnarde would not affect her.
“I am tired of one-night stands. I wish to have someone share my bed for reasons other than duty, greed or fleeting attraction.”
“Why bother? You’ll just get disappointed in the end.”
“My parents have been married for almost forty years and each of my sisters for nearly a decade. Their marriages are strong and happy.”
“For now.” She grabbed her wine and took a healthy sip. “My parents were married for thirty-five years before my father walked out.”
The pain and sadness in her eyes tightened his chest. “Why did he leave?”
She rose. “Does it matter?”
“Apparently it matters to you. I’ve heard children often blame themselves for their parents’ divorce.”
“There you go again. Practicing psychology without a license. Don’t they have laws against that in Monaco?”
But the sudden rigidity of her posture told him he’d hit a nerve. “Do you blame yourself?”
“Of course not,” she replied too quickly. “I was only ten.”
He captured her chin, lifted her face until she met his gaze, and repeated, “Do you blame yourself?”
She glared at him for a full thirty seconds before her lids lowered and her shoulders sagged on a sigh. “They were married twenty-five years before I came along. A menopause surprise baby. So yes, for most of my life I wondered if my arrival had upset the balance.”
She shook off his hand, and hugging herself, moved to the window. “After my father died I finally found the courage to ask my mother what really happened. According to her they split because of indifference. They just fell out of love. Neither cared enough about the other to fight for their marriage, but they fought about anything and everything else. I was actually relieved when Daddy moved out and the shouting stopped.”
She was tough, a fighter, and yet at the moment she seemed fragile and lost. Struggling with the urge to take her in his arms, for he doubted she would welcome his comforting embrace, Dominic joined her by the glass.
“Did you feel the same indifference for your lover?”
“What!” She pivoted to face him with her mouth agape.
“You did not love him enough to push forward with your wedding plans, and yet you did not dislike him enough to end your engagement. It appears he suffered the same indifference.” He shrugged. “I would not wish for such a passionless relationship.”
“It wasn’t passionless,” she said through clenched teeth.
“No? Did you not say last night that you had never had so many orgasms in one night nor found such pleasure? Tell me, Madeline, did you hunger for his touch the way you do for mine?”