Leila composed herself before she looked at Alix, where he was lounging in the chair opposite, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, effectively caging her in. Despite her best efforts, one look at his hard, sensual mouth was bringing their kiss back in glorious Technicolor...the way it had burnt her up.
She forced her gaze up to his eyes and tried to remember his question. ‘My mother flew only once in her life, when she came to France from India. It was a traumatic journey for her... She was in disgrace, pregnant and unwed, and was suffering badly from morning sickness.’ Leila shrugged lightly, knowing she was leaving so much out of that explanation. ‘She always associated flying with that trauma and never wanted to get on a plane again.’
‘Aren’t you curious about your Indian roots and family?’
An innocuous enough question, but one that had a familiar resentment rising up within Leila. Her mother’s family had all but left her for dead—they’d never once contacted her or Leila. Not even when a newspaper had reported that some of them were in Paris for a massive perfume fair.
Leila hid her true emotions under a bland mask. She forced a smile. ‘I’m afraid my mother’s family cut all ties with us... But perhaps one day I’ll go back and visit the country of my ancestors.’
She took refuge in looking at the view again, hoping that Alix wouldn’t ask any more personal questions. The lights of the city were becoming sparser. They must be flying further away from Paris now.
But it was as if Alix could read her mind and was deliberately thwarting her. He asked softly, ‘Why did you pull back when I kissed you, Leila? I know it wasn’t because you really wanted me to stop.’
She froze.
She hadn’t expected Alix to notice that fleeting moment when she’d felt so insecure. She hadn’t wanted it to stop at all...she’d never felt such exquisite pleasure. And the thought of him kissing her again—she knew she wouldn’t be able to pull back the next time.
An urgent self-protective need rose up inside her. She had to try and repel Alix on some level—surely a man of a blue-blooded royal line wouldn’t want anything to do with the illegitimate daughter of a disgraced Indian woman?
She looked at him, and he was regarding her from under hooded lids.
‘You asked before if I’d had a bad experience with a lover...’
Alix sat up straighter. ‘You told me it was none of my business.’
‘And it’s not,’ Leila reiterated. ‘But, yes, I had a negative encounter with someone, and I don’t really wish to repeat the experience.’
Alix went very still, and Leila could see the innate male pride in his expression. He couldn’t believe that she would compare him to another man.
‘I’m sorry you had to experience that, but you can’t damn all men because of one.’
Leila took a breath. Alix wasn’t being dissuaded. In spite of the flutters in her belly she went on. ‘In fact, if you must know, my mother was rather overprotective.’ The flutters increased under Alix’s steady regard. ‘The truth is that I’m not as experienced as you might—’
‘Are you ready for supper, Your Majesty?’
They both looked to see the steward holding out some menus. Relief flooded Leila that she’d been cut off from revealing the ignominious truth of just how inexperienced she was. She welcomed the diversion of taking the menu being proffered.
She imagined that Alix would believe she was still a virgin as much as he’d believe in unicorns. But thankfully, when they were alone again, he didn’t seem inclined to continue the discussion.
When she glanced at him, he just sent her an enigmatic glance and said, ‘I recommend the risotto—it’s vegetarian.’
Leila smiled. ‘That sounds good.’
When the young man came back, moments later, Alix ordered. Then he poured them both some champagne. When the flutes were filled and a table had been set between them, Alix lifted his glass and said, with a very definite glint in his eye, ‘To new experiences, Leila.’
She cringed inwardly. He didn’t have to pursue the discussion. He’d guessed her secret. She lifted her glass too, but said nothing. She got the distinct impression that he still wasn’t put off. And, as much as she’d like to tell Alix that flying in a plane was the only new experience she was interested in sharing with him, she couldn’t formulate the words. Traitorously.
* * *
‘Why is everyone looking at us?’
Alix looked at Leila incredulously. She had no idea what a sensation she was causing—had caused as soon as they’d stepped from his boat and into the ancient palazzo on the Grand Canal where the opera was being staged. Leila stood out effortlessly—like a jewel amongst much duller stones. Now it was the interval, and they were seated in a private area to the right of the stage. Private, yet visible.
His mouth quirked. ‘They’re not looking at us—they’re looking at you.’
She looked at him and blushed. ‘Oh...it’s the clothes, isn’t it? I should have—’
Alix shook his head, cutting her off. ‘It’s not the clothes...well, it is. But that’s because you are more beautiful than any other woman here and you’re putting them to shame with your sense of style. Every woman is looking at you and wondering why their finger is not on the pulse.’