The Disgraced Princess Read Free Page B

sardonically amused because he was discussing his plans for Carathia with the precocious, light-hearted girl-child who’d jolted him with the passion in her kisses—and his own violent and unconsidered response to them.
    That summer three years ago had revealed that behind her sexy, laughing face lurked a keen, quick brain. He’d enjoyed their discussions, but her ardent kisses on the final night when he’d yielded to the for bid den temptation of her sultry mouth had reminded him she was far too young and innocent to do what he’d wanted to do—carry her off to the nearest bed and make reckless, sensuous love to her.
    Thank God he’d rejected her open invitation. Etched into his brain was the sight of her kissing Kelt the very morning after she’d turned to flames in his arms. He’d realised then that she’d been using him as a substitute for the man she really wanted.
    Did she still long for his brother? If her expression when she watched Kelt dancing with Hani was anything to go by, it seemed more than likely.
    Kelt had always been there for her when her father was away searching for ancient civilisations, when her mother was off with the latest boy friend. A beautiful woman with everything going for her, Eva Matthews wasted her life chasing some sort of rainbow fantasy of the perfect love. Judging by the stream of men through her university years, her daughter was doing the same.
    Searching for a security she’d never known? Possibly. Trouble in a delicious little package?
    Undoubtedly. But she was no longer naïve and in experienced.
    Above her froth of amber curls he sketched a humourless smile. He was acutely aware of her small, elegantly curved form in that sinuous dress, its colour reminding him of the beaches on his brother’s estate in New Zealand. Subtly glittering, the fabric made the most of her curves and narrow waist without clinging. In a room full of women clothed to impress, she stood out because she wore no jewellery at all, not even a ring on a slender finger.
    A strand of hair snagged itself on his lapel, glittering in the light of the chandeliers. She jerked free and said, ‘Sorry about that. I did try for dignity, but my curls are uncontrollable.’
    â€˜It would seem so.’ His voice sounded odd in his ears, and he frowned, fighting back a swift, elemental appetite, a headstrong physical goad that knotted his gut and dried his mouth.
    Half smiling, she gazed up at him, dark lashes wide around the intense, gold-flecked blue of her eyes. ‘I straightened my hair once and it just hated it and went all lank and limp, so now I let the curls do their own thing.’
    Gerd closed his mind against a swift, erotic image of her, sleek and golden and laughing against crisp white sheets, but the maddening questions refused to go away. Would she be as passionate as the promise of her soft, laughing mouth?
    Hard on the heels of that came another question, even more insubordinate. Was she like this—provocative, tempting—with her lovers?
    Of course she was. And now she was twenty-one and experienced, there was no need for restraint…

CHAPTER TWO
    G ERD dampened down a compelling surge of desire to say remotely, ‘Although you affect to despise your hair, it’s very pretty. As I’m sure you know.’
    Rosie should have been gratified; apart from that final crack about her hair—delivered with aloof kindness, as though she were ten—he had at least treated her like an adult.
    Unfortunately, since they’d moved onto the floor she’d reacquired a taste for the danger and zest of crossing swords with Gerd. Like fencing with a tiger, she’d decided dreamily three years ago.
    Her pulse rate skyrocketed when her glance skimmed the strong, boldly chiselled features, intimidating yet profoundly sexy. Now she understood why she’d always been attracted to men with a slight cleft in their chin and hawkish