Roarke's Kingdom Read online

  He bent to her slowly, his eyes holding hers, and then his mouth was on hers.

  For one brief flash, she thought of that night with Craig, and her body tensed. But then Roarke whispered her name and she knew that the ugly memory had finally lost its power over her.

  She sighed, murmured “Roarke,” and wound her arms around his neck.

  “Kiss me,” he said thickly, and when she raised her face blindly to him, he crushed her mouth beneath his.

  His tongue swept along the curve of her lips and she whispered her surrender as she opened to him. His tongue thrust into her mouth and the taste of him filled her. Her breath quickened; her bones turned fluid and he groaned and ran his hands down her spine to her hips, then cupped her buttocks and brought her against the hardness of his body.

  “Roarke,” she whispered.

  He heard her capitulation in the single word.

  Quickly, he swept her into his arms and stepped further back into the darkness until they were lost in the trees, and then he lay her down on the soft ground and bent over her.

  Her dress fell open under his fingers.

  “I can feel the race of your heart, love,” he said, cupping his hand over her breast.

  It was true; her heart was galloping like a wild thing racing to be set free. Jennifer stared up into the darkness, seeing only the gleam of Roarke’s eyes, the pale silhouette of his face above her.

  In the distance, the beat of the drums had reached a fierce intensity.

  It was a night for miracles, Roarke had said and this—his mouth at her nipple, his hands parting her thighs—was the miracle she had waited for.

  “Please,” she said, “Roarke, please…”

  He got to his feet. Unzipped his fly. Came back to her and knelt between her legs.

  “Too fast?” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  She shook her head and he groaned, eased his hands under her backside, yanked down her panties and then, God, then he was inside her, deep inside her, moving inside her and she cried out, sobbed his name, wept as he kissed her, and when he felt her muscles starting to tighten around him he rocked forward, hard, rocked into her again and again and they came together just as a shooting star blazed a fiery path across the night sky.

  He collapsed against her and held her to him for a long time.

  “I’m too heavy for you,” he finally said.

  He was, but when he tried to move away, her arms tightened around him.

  Moments slid by. Then he sighed.

  “Jennifer?”

  She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Roarke?” she whispered back.

  “I know a much nicer place for this.”

  “For what?” she said, batting her lashes.

  He grinned. Gave her a quick, delicious kiss. Then they got to their feet, straightened their clothes and, laughing like kids on a day off from school, they ran hand in hand to the house, to his bedroom.

  To his bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Hours later, Jennifer lay in Roarke’s arms, wide awake while he slept. How could she sleep with so much racing through her head?

  She was in love with him. Completely. One hundred percent. Head over heels. Any way you said it, it came down to the same thing.

  She’d fallen in love with Roarke Campbell.

  Jennifer sighed. She’d known it for a while, but tonight had changed everything. Living with the knowledge that she loved him was one thing.

  Living with this, the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body…

  After tonight, he would forever be in her heart.

  They’d made love again, here in his bed. Then he’d drawn her close, he lying on his back, she on her side with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” he’d said softly.

  “Yes,” she’d whispered, and she’d thought Tell him now. Right now.

  But she hadn’t. And seconds later he was asleep. A little while after that, the beat of the voodoo drums slackened until finally the beat mirrored the slow, steady rhythm of his heart. Still she lay awake, loving the feel of his arms around her even as she despised herself for her cowardice.

  Tears rose in her eyes.

  She hadn’t told him about herself. And she had to. It meant risking everything, but she had no choice. She was a liar and a cheat and either he would hate her or forgive her, but she had to put an end to the deception.

  Or maybe—maybe she had to leave him. Maybe the possibility that he would look at her with disgust or, worse, hatred was too much to face.

  Somewhere in the darkness a night bird cried out, its voice as lonely and anguished as her heart.

  Carefully, she began to roll away from her lover. He made a soft sound of protest and even in her despair she loved that he wanted her to stay with him.

  She pressed a light kiss to his shoulder.

  His arm tightened around her. A minute passed and then his breathing steadied again.

  Yes. She had to tell him the truth.

  Or—or she could leave Isla de la Pantera.

  Do it quickly and cleanly, without confronting him. Whatever he thought of her when he found her gone might be better than what he’d think of her if she told him that everything he thought he knew about her—even her name—was a lie.

  He always left for his office by eight o’clock.

  Once he was gone, she could get her things together and head for the dock. If one of the local fishermen was willing to help her, fine. If not, there were charter services that would come and pick her up, and to hell with the cost.

  Until then—until then—

  “Sweetheart?” Roarke murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

  “Roarke.” Jennifer curved her hand against his jaw. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Why don’t I go to my room and let you—”

  “My thoughts, exactly.” He rose over her. “The ‘let me’ part, that is.”

  She didn’t want to smile, but she did. He smiled too; she knew it when he kissed her and she felt his lips curve against hers.

  “And just what is it I’m supposed to let you do?”

  His arms tightened around her. “Let me show you that I know the perfect cure for insomnia.”

  He kissed her again. Her mouth. Her throat. Her breasts.

  In seconds, she was lost to sensation. To passion.

  To him.

  And when she lay breathless in his arms again, she knew that she wouldn’t run, that despite the risks she would confess everything to the man she loved.

  Who she was.

  What she’d done.

  Why she’d come to Puerto Rico.

  No matter what happened to her, Roarke deserved the truth.

  * * *

  The sound of the helicopter woke her.

  She sat up quickly.

  She was alone in Roarke’s bed.

  Obviously, he’d left for San Juan without waking her. That meant she had another few hours’ reprieve before she told him everything.

  It was as much a relief as it was upsetting. Now that she’d made up her mind, she wanted to get it over with.

  She looked at the clock and gasped. It was almost ten. Susanna couldn’t still be asleep…

  The door to the bedroom opened. Roarke stood in the doorway, smiling, his daughter in his arms.

  “Jenfer,” the little girl said happily.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” Roarke said softly.

  “But—but I heard the helicopter…”

  “John’s on his way to pick up some supplies. And I decided to take the day off. Surprised?”

  “Yes. I mean, I thought—”

  “Hey. You’re supposed to be glad that I’m playing hooky today.”

  She was glad. Unbelievably glad. It meant another day with him before she had to tell him the truth because she couldn’t very well do that when he’d stayed home just to be with her—and if the logic that had brought her to that conclusion was upside down and
inside out, who cared?

  “I am glad,” she said softly. “Very, very glad.”

  She held out her arms. He bent down and let Susanna run to the bed so that Jennifer could scoop her up and smother the giggling child with kisses.

  “Save some of that for me,” Roarke said, laughing, and Jennifer raised her face to his for a coffee-flavored kiss.

  When he drew back, he was smiling.

  “Get dressed,” he said. “We’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

  “Roarke…”

  “Yes?”

  Jennifer shook her head. “Nothing. I just—I just wanted to say your name.”

  His eyes met hers. Then he leaned in for another quick kiss, gathered his daughter into his arms and headed out the door.

  Jennifer showered, then dressed quickly. Jeans. T-shirt. Sandals. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, dabbed on lip gloss and hurried downstairs.

  Roarke, Susanna and Constancia were in the kitchen, Roarke standing at the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand, Susu in her chair at the table spooning oatmeal into her mouth with childish gusto.

  “Good morning,” Roarke said, as if he hadn’t already greeted her, but the warmth in his eyes and in his voice said far more than that.

  Jennifer smiled. “Good morning,” she said softly.

  Constancia poured her a mug of coffee. Roarke kept looking at her and looking at her and finally—she could almost hear him thinking To hell with decorum—he strode over to her, cupped the back of her head in the palm of his hand. and said good morning all over again, this time with a kiss.

  Susu clapped her hands.

  Constancia grinned.

  Jennifer blushed and when he kissed her again, she kissed him back.

  “I have a surprise,” he whispered.

  She smiled up at him. “Having you home is all the surprise I need.”

  He laughed. “I’m happy to hear it—but I have the feeling you’re going to like my real surprise even more.”

  “What is it?”

  He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

  He finished his coffee, took her half-empty mug from her hand and put both in the sink. Then he went to Susanna, kissed the top of her head and reminded her that she’d promised to be a very good girl with Constancia.

  “Good girl,” Susanna said solemnly.

  Everyone laughed. Then Roarke reached for Jennifer’s hand.

  “Time to go,” he said.

  “Go where?”

  “Tell Susu you’ll see her tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? But—”

  “T’morrow,” the little girl said, and giggled.

  Constancia giggled too. Obviously, everybody was in on the secret except Jennifer.

  “Roarke,” Jennifer said, trying to sound indignant.

  “Jennifer,” he said in that same tone of voice.

  She tried not to laugh, but keeping a straight face just wasn’t possible.

  He led her out the door, down to the docks and to his boat. When she started to ask more questions, he put his finger over her lips.

  “Trust me,” he said, and it was all she could do not to tell him she would trust him with anything…

  Anything, except maybe her secrets.

  The thought made her smile dim.

  “Sweetheart? Really. You’ll like this surprise.”

  He bent to her and kissed her. Then he helped her onto the boat and in minutes, they were headed out to sea, he at the wheel and she in the curve of his encircling arm.

  She lifted her face to the sun.

  The day was perfect. Bright blue sky. Puffy white clouds. Turquoise sea.

  And Roarke.

  Roarke, holding her close to him.

  Roarke, her amazing lover…

  “Jen?”

  “Mmm?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve been selfish.”

  “What?” She looked at him. “You? Selfish?”

  “I haven’t taken you off the island. Not once since you got here.”

  “You think that’s selfish?” She laughed. “I love the island. Why would I want to leave it?”

  He smiled.

  “That’s good to hear. Hell, it’s more than that. It’s important. I want you to love the island. I want you to love Susanna.” He paused. For the first time since she’d met him, he sounded nervous. “I want…”

  She saw a muscle knot in his jaw. Suddenly, he swung the wheel hard and took them into a small cove where he shut off the engine. He turned to her and what she saw in his eyes made her breathless.

  “The thing is,” he said gruffly, “that what I really want is for you to love me.”

  She stared at him, speechless.

  The muscle in his jaw twitched again.

  “Dammit,” he said, “I’m not doing this right. I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with you.” He waited. And waited. Then he cursed softly. “Jen. Say something. Tell me—tell me—”

  No, her head said, Jennifer, don’t…

  But her heart didn’t give a damn about her head.

  “You don’t have to want me to love you,” she said. “Because I already do.”

  Laughing and crying, she went into his arms.

  * * *

  He started the engine and took them further into the cove. They anchored just off a white sand beach.

  Roarke explained that the island was uninhabited.

  “It’s beautiful,” Jennifer said, gazing at the pristine beach and its tall, lush palms.

  “Constancia packed us a lunch. We can swim and lie in the sun and talk.” He touched the tip of his finger to her lips. “In other words, we can do absolutely nothing but be together.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  “And you get a choice. Constancia swiped your swim suit and I stashed it below.”

  Jennifer laughed as the wind tossed her hair back from her face.

  “Your fellow conspirator, huh?”

  He grinned, hauled her against him and kissed her.

  “Damn right. I think she was going crazy, waiting for me to admit how I felt about you.”

  It was hard to keep smiling when he said that.

  If he knew the truth—if he did, would he still say he loved her?

  “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I was just—I was wondering. You said I get a choice.”

  “Ah. Well…” His smile turned wicked and sexy. “You do. You can change to that suit. O you can skinny dip.”

  “Wow. That’s some choice.”

  “Uh huh. So, what’s it going to be?”

  She hesitated. She’d never gone into the water naked. Never imagined wanting to do it. Especially with a man…

  “Well?” he said.

  She took a deep breath. “Skinny dip.”

  Roarke grinned.

  “But you have to turn your back,” she said. “And you have to promise not to peek. No looking until we’re in the water.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, woman.”

  “I’m serious.”

  He sighed. “No looking. Scout’s honor.”

  He turned away and she undressed quickly. Sandals. Jeans. T-shirt. Bra. Panties. And oh, the sun felt glorious on her bare skin.

  Roarke, good to his word, was still standing with his back to her.

  “Ready?” he said.

  “Uh huh. You next.”

  He didn’t ask her to turn her back. And she didn’t. Why would she deny herself the sight of her lover, naked?

  He pulled his T-shirt over his head. Toed off his mocs. Stepped out of his jeans, his shorts…

  And turned toward her.

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  He was beautiful.

  Absolutely beautiful.

  She had slept with him last night. Explored him with her hands and mouth, but she hadn’t really seen him.

  Now, she did.

  The muscled shoulders and arms. The washboard abs. The taut
thighs and long legs. And the part of him that was pure male, that was rising and hardening as he looked at her…

  Until that second, she’d been so caught up in admiring her lover’s body that she’d forgotten she was naked.

  “Oh,” she whispered. “You said Scout’s honor…”

  He caught her hands as she started to cover herself.

  “What I didn’t say was that I was never a Scout.”

  She laughed. Or tried to, but the way he was looking at her, the heat is his eyes, the promise of that proudly erect male flesh…

  He took her in his arms, brought her down with him on the warm teak deck.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said softly.

  His skin was hot, satin-smooth over his taut muscles. Touching him sent a tingle through her fingertips.

  “Roarke,” she said again, but this time the word was a sigh.

  “Yes, love,” he whispered. “That’s right. Touch me, while I—” He caught his breath as his hands moved over her. “Ah, Jennifer. Your skin is as hot as the sun. You feel so—”

  She moaned as he cupped her breasts in his hands. His thumbs moved across the nipples and she arched toward him, eyes closed in ecstasy.

  “Look at me,” he said. Her breath caught when she did. His face was taut with desire, his eyes black with need. “Tell me you want me.”

  “Yes,” she said unashamedly. “Oh, yes. I want you.”

  “Tell me you love me.” He lifted her face to his and looked deep into her eyes. “Tell me,” he said fiercely.

  The words burst from her throat. “I love you,” she said, and when she saw how her admission transformed him, she felt a swift surge of joy. “I love you, love you, love you…”

  His head and shoulders blotted out the sun as he kissed her—deep, deep kisses that drove all rational thought from her head.

  She gasped as his hand moved over her, stroking her flesh until it bloomed with desire, and she moaned softly against his mouth. Her arms lifted and wound around his neck, her lips parted, and she began kissing him, too, each kiss wilder and deeper than the last, until nothing mattered but Roarke and this moment.

  His fingers stroked lightly between her thighs where she was wet with wanting him.

  “I want to taste you,” he said thickly, “to imprint your scent and your heat on my soul.”

  She cried out as he put his mouth to her. A kaleidoscope of colors danced inside her closed eyelids and she sobbed his name.