Everlasting

THREE

THE EARLY-MORNING sunlight was strong, with the sort of clarity found only in the high country. The softening mist had burned off, leaving the Santa Catalinas stark and brutally beautiful against the cerulean sky.

Kira breathed deeply, letting the piñon-scented breeze intoxicate her with its tangy fragrance. That same breeze lifted her hair away from her face in a gentle caress and tugged like a playful child at her yellow robe. Her hands tightened on the redwood railing of the balcony. No wonder Zack had built his lodge on the side of this mountain. The simplicity and power of the man were echoed in these surroundings.

She crossed her arms over her chest as a little shiver ran through her. She had been determined not to let Zack Damon intimidate her, but, apparently, in order to block out uncertainty it was necessary not to think at all. Which was going to be a near impossible task when even the blasted mountains reminded her of him.

She had been unable to sleep for a long time after she'd gone to bed. Her mind had been a turmoil of jumbled thoughts, impressions, and apprehensions. Why was she so upset? It wasn't like her to brood about things she couldn't help. There was a price to be paid and she would pay it. Zack Damon was both attractive physically and fascinating mentally. And, she went on thinking, there had to be scores of women who would do virtually anything to wind up in bed with him. It wasn't as if Kira had any hang-ups about her virginity, for heaven's sake. Stefan was the conservative one, not she. There just hadn't been a man who appealed to her in that way before.

And there was certainly no doubt that Zack did appeal to her sensually, she thought, amused that she'd used such a tepid word as “appeal” to describe how he made her feel. Her reaction to him had been near inflammatory in the brief time they'd been together. It wouldn't be any hardship giving him what he'd asked, if she could only get rid of this uncharacteristic shyness.

“Do you like my mountains?” Zack asked from behind her.

She whirled to face him. He leaned against the jamb of the sliding glass doors, watching her. He was dressed in jeans and a cream-colored sweatshirt, but the casual garb did nothing to diminish his aura of controlled power. If anything, it augmented it. Now he blended into his surroundings, rather than standing deliberately apart, and she again had the feeling he was drawing power from everything around him.

“I didn't mean to startle you. I brought your breakfast tray. I knocked, but you evidently didn't hear me.”

“No.” She felt suddenly tongue-tied as she gazed up at him. “I thought Juana was going to bring my tray. Do you usually provide personal service to your houseguests?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said simply. “I couldn't sleep for thinking about you last night.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“You persist in questioning the obvious.” He smiled, his eyes bright with amusement. “If I tell you, do you promise to blush again?”

“How unkind. I know it's provincial, but I can't help blushing. I assure you I'm working on eliminating it.”

“Don't. I like your blushes. Every time I see the heat beneath your skin I want to reach out and touch you, feel the heat, the softness, the silk.”

She tried, but couldn't manage, to look away from him. That maddening color rose to her cheeks. “Your words are very pretty, but I'd prefer to appear sophisticated rather than naive.” Her lips were trembling as she smiled at him. “I'm not usually like this, you know. For some reason, you make me a bit nervous.”

His smile faded. “I don't want that. I want you to feel entirely comfortable with me.”

How could she when the mere sight of him caused her breath to catch in her throat and her legs to turn boneless? She glanced away. “I will. It will just take time. I've never met anyone like you before. I'm more accustomed to men who are social butterfly types than to men who are so serious about everything.”

He frowned. “You think I lack a sense of humor?”

“No, you're just more… intense.”

“Yes, I am intense. I don't believe you should do anything unless you're prepared to throw everything you have into it. But then, you should understand. You're an exceptionally intense person yourself.”

Her gaze flew back to him. “Who me? You have the wrong lady. I'm known as the original scatterbrained madcap. Ask anyone.”

“I don't need to ask anyone. I prefer to form my own judgments.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “And I think you're probably one of the most intense people I've ever met. I wonder why you're so determined to hide that intensity?”

“I'm not hiding anything.” She turned her back on him and stared at the mountains. “You asked me if I like your mountains. Do you own them?”

He walked to her side. “I own them. I don't have a deed to them, but they're still mine.”

“What?” she asked, puzzled.

“My grandfather used to say that if you love something enough, you become one with it. One entity flows into the other to merge and then to seal.” His gaze was fixed on the mountains with possessiveness as well as affection. “Yes, in spirit these mountains belong to me.”

“That's rather an abstract philosophy for a tough businessman to have adopted. I would think your instincts would lead you to pin down anything you wanted, to buy it outright and to have the deed in your pocket.”

“No one has just one face, particularly not me. There are times when I want to reach out and grab.” His gaze was still fastened on the mountain peaks. “And there are other times when I think that the only way to keep what's mine is to let it go.” He turned to face her, his gaze meeting her own with the same intensity with which he had regarded the mountains. “That's what many Indian tribes believed, you know. They would strive very hard to acquire rich trappings, slaves, and horses, only to give them away to show how little material wealth actually meant to them. It wasn't the acquisition but the release that was important.” His tone was halting, as if he were trying to express something beyond the surface meaning of the words. “Do you understand what I'm saying to you?”

She shook her head. “I don't think so. It's clear you wouldn't be in the position you're in now if you gave everything away, so you must subscribe to a more materialistic philosophy than your grandfather's.”

He was silent for a moment and then he smiled cynically. “You're right, of course. I'm probably far more philistine than shaman. I suppose I wanted to justify myself in your eyes. I don't know why. I've never been tempted to do that before.” He turned away abruptly. “Come along inside and have your breakfast. The plane will be ready in two hours.”

She was troubled as she trailed him into the room, pausing beside the bed on which he had deposited the wicker breakfast tray. She had the vague impression that she had hurt him in some way, and it was causing an odd aching deep inside her. “I may not understand you, but I'm not stupid enough to think I have any right to judge an unknown quantity,” she said gently. “Marna trusts you, so I'm sure you can't be as ruthless as you've been portrayed.”

“But I am ruthless,” he said softly. “It's the other side of the coin. Not with you, though, Kira. You won't ever have to worry about seeing the ruthlessness in me.”

His expression was enigmatic, yet it once again generated within her the warm languid heat she had known last night. She drew a deep, shaky breath and tried to smile. “I'll be very grateful for that. I don't think I'm equipped to handle a man like you, Zack.”

There was a sudden glint of mischief in his eyes. “It's a skill I expect to enjoy teaching you. It will be an exquisite pleasure being handled by you.” He held out his hand. “Starting now. Come here, Kira.”

She hesitated. “You said we had to leave soon,” she murmured.

“Not that soon.” He smiled with a warmth that bemused her. Such a lovely smile, full of gentleness and understanding and… “Come to me.”

Her gaze clung to his as she moved slowly toward him. There was something there, waiting just beyond his glowing intensity. She came to a halt before him and looked up at him searchingly. It was still there, still waiting. She had always hated waiting, she thought hazily, and this waiting was centuries old and curiously timeless.

His hand was waiting for her, too, outstretched in silent invitation. She slipped her small hand into his large one with the supreme naturalness of a trusting child and suddenly experienced a tingling shock of sensation that was immediately drowned in a sparkling sense of perfect Tightness. “Hello,” she whispered.

“Hello,” he said thickly. “Welcome home, love.”

Home. Yes, that's what was waiting for her. Why hadn't she realized it? What had been before, was happening again. A smile suddenly lit her face with radiance. “Oh, I'm so happy. I do love-” She broke off. There was something wrong. She frowned, trying to pierce the mists obscuring the shining truth she'd known just a minute before. “Zack?”

His smile was fading as his hand tightened around her own. “I'm still here, Kira. I'll always be here.”

“Yes, I know, but there's something wrong. Something-” She stopped again. Then she shook her head as if to clear it. Crazy. What had happened was completely crazy. Her nerves must be more strained than she thought to have tricked her into a wild flight of fancy. She closed her eyes for an instant and drew a deep, steadying breath. She was experiencing a poignant disappointment that was shaking her to the core and was as insane as the rest of it. She didn't want to return to reality when that moment of piercing recognition had been so magnificent. Recognition? Oh, Lord, she was going mad. Her eyes opened and she smiled with forced gaiety. “Sorry. I think you must have mesmerized me for a moment. Are you sure you're not a shaman too?”

There was a flicker in his eyes that might have reflected the same wild disappointment she was feeling. “I'm sure.”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” she said flippantly. “Do you get that response from Mallory Thane too?”

“No.”

Kira could feel the wild color sting her cheeks. She was suddenly feverish. “I'm surprised.” Her tongue moistened her lower lip. “I hear you're quite the ladies' man and she's known to be-”

“Be quiet.” His voice was very soft to be so commanding. “I know you're frightened, but stop trying to put barriers between us.” He released her hand and suddenly was cupping her shoulders. He shook her gently. “Mallory Thane isn't important. None of them were important, and now they're all simply past history.”

She wouldn't look at him. Her gaze was fastened stubbornly on the middle of his chest. “You were expecting her here last night.”

“No, I wasn't expecting anyone but you.”

She believed him, and that was as crazy and frightening as everything else that had gone before. “I don't understand any of this.”

“You will.” His hands moved from her shoulders gently to cup her face in his palms. “It isn't time yet. Trust me, Kira.”

“I'm trying.” Her words were a mere whisper. “I have to trust someone. I don't seem to have much confidence in myself anymore.”

“Do you suppose you could stretch that faith enough to look up at me?” There was a thread of gentle humor in his voice. “I think your fierce glare is burning a hole through my breastbone.”

Her gaze lifted, and his look of tenderness and understanding was like a soothing balm to her troubled spirit.

“That's better.” He smiled. “For a moment I thought we'd skipped a few hurdles, but evidently it wasn't meant to be.” His thumbs splayed out across her cheekbones to rub gently at the corners of her lips. “Perhaps it's better this way. We have so much to experience, and everything is bright and shining and new.” His head came down slowly. “I'm going to kiss you. Is that all right with you, love?”

He was only a breath away, his dark eyes holding her own. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell the clean, fresh scent of him. Her throat was so tight the assent came out a little huskily. “Yes.”

She had expected warmth and gentleness, but not the honey sweetness. His lips were hard and firm, yet they wooed and tempted, cherished and promised. He built labyrinths of golden intimacy and then led her through them so lovingly she thought her heart would stop with each new, exquisite twist and turn. She didn't know how many times their lips met and parted or how many ways his hands moved and angled her head to take and give and take again. Time flowed, intimacy deepened. Time flowed again. Such a beautiful, meaningful circle, she thought dreamily.

His head lifted at last and he looked down at her. His eyes were night-black, the pupils dilated. “Good?” he asked softly.

“Wonderful…” She wished he hadn't stopped.

Her lips felt soft, pliant; she ached for the sweetness of his lips, and the pain was almost as sharp as the desire she'd known last night. How strange and wonderful were the heights to which his mere kiss could lift her. “I wish it could go on forever.”

“It can't, though.” His lips were pressing soft, loving kisses on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her temple. “There's too much electricity stored up between us.” He tilted her head back and his warm lips drifted over the sensitive cord of her throat. “It has to change, but we'll always have this to come back to, you know.”

“Will we?” It was very comforting to know that, she thought hazily. But he was right; it was already changing. His lips were growing hotter against her throat and she could see his chest rising and falling with the harshness of his breathing. The tiny changes she could detect in his body triggered identical ones within her own. She was no longer languid and dreamy.

The sensations she was feeling now were all sharp and aching and fever-hot, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be jarred out of blissful euphoria. There was a liquid throbbing between her thighs and her breasts felt full and painfully swollen. She wished he'd move his hands from her face and put them on her breasts. Perhaps that caress would ease their strange aching. She was vaguely surprised that the desire didn't shock her. She had never before wanted a man's hands on her, touching intimately. Yet she supposed it shouldn't have surprised her. There was no comparing any of the emotions she was feeling for Zack with those in her previous experience.

The muscles of his body were hardening, rippling. She was aware of that meaningful tautening, even though he was only touching her with his hands. His body was readying itself. The knowledge sent a near savage jolt of pure desire through her. He wanted her. She could see the pulse leaping crazily in his temple and feel the soft nip of his teeth on the flesh of her throat.

“You see?” His voice was guttural. He lifted his head and his face was flushed and heavy with sensuality. “It never stays the same. There's too much waiting for us.”

“Yes,” she whispered. She wondered if her eyes were as glazed and wanting as his. They probably were. She felt as if every breath she drew was exploding little fiery sparks into her bloodstream.

“I want to touch you. I want my hands on you.”

“Yes,” she said again. She couldn't seem to say anything else to him. Response and assent. The reaction was as basic as nature itself.

“You want it too? I don't want to take, Kira.”

“I want it too.”

His lips curved in a rare smile. “That's all I wanted to know. I'm surprised I even had the restraint to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. Come along, love.”

He was taking her by the hand and, to her surprise, leading her away from the bed across the room. “Where are we going?”

“Right here.” He had stopped beside the deep-cushioned contemporary easy chair against the wall. He sat down and positioned her between his legs. “If we used the bed, I'm sure this preliminary foray would result in an instant merger.” His hands were swiftly untying the belt of her robe.

She felt a swift thrust of disappointment. “I assumed you had grown impatient with your little anticipatory game.”

“I am impatient,” he said dryly. “And hurting and…” He opened the robe and stared at her for a long moment. She felt scorched, burned, and knew her body was responding helplessly and very obviously to his hot, lingering appraisal. The sheer veiling of the yellow chiffon nightgown might just as well not have been there for all the covering it gave her. “Oh, Lord, am I hurting.”

And so was she. The robe dropped, making a pool of sunshine color on the dark brown carpet at her feet, and she stood before him in only the sheer nightgown. There was something vaguely barbaric about their positions-Zack sitting fully clothed and she standing almost naked between his legs like a slave girl waiting to pleasure him.

“What are you thinking about?” His gaze had moved from her body to her face. The tip of his tongue reached out to moisten his lower lip and the unconscious motion sent a surge of aching tension to every muscle in her body. Sweet heaven, those lips were so diabolically and beautifully sensual in his taut face.

“I think you know.”

“I probably have a good idea.” His gaze traveled slowly from the creamy satin of her shoulders to the full thrust of her breasts against the chiffon. “Do you like me to look at you?”

“Yes.”

“That's good. I think there's every chance it will be one of my very favorite things to do.” He slowly reached up and slid first one thin strap off her shoulder, then the other. The bodice of the gown slipped until only the swollen fullness of her breasts was holding the clinging material in place. Zack leaned back in the chair and simply looked at her for a long moment. “You have wonderful skin. It radiates a sheen that glows with life.”

“Do I?” She scarcely knew what she was saying. How could he just sit there looking at her when every muscle and nerve in her body was on fire with frustration? Why didn't he touch her?

“Yes.” He leaned forward and laid his cheek against her abdomen. She inhaled sharply as she felt the sudden warmth of his flesh through the sheer fabric of the nightgown. “Wonderful skin. Strong, firm muscles.” One big hand was lazily rubbing her belly. “And softness.” His palm slid down to gently cup the apex of her thighs so that only the mist of material separated him from that most intimate part of her. She could feel the heat of his hard hand and made a low sound deep in her throat as he started to rub back and forth, alternating hard pressure with gossamer lightness so that she could become accustomed to neither, his every touch then giving her a fresh jolt of sensation. “Do you like this?”

She nodded. She didn't think she could have spoken if her life had depended upon it. With his cheek pressed against her, he couldn't see the nod, but it didn't really matter. He knew very well what pleasure he was giving her. “What else would you like me to do to you?”

She could scarcely breathe. How could he expect her to speak? But he evidently did, for he was lifting his head to look up at her. His hand was still moving gently against her. “What else, Kira?”

Her tongue moistened her dry lips. “Zack…” Her gaze dropped helplessly to the sheer chiffon veiling her breasts. Her nipples were so exquisitely sensitive now that even the light wreath of material was causing them to ache.

His eyes followed hers and then grew midnight dark as he saw the hard, pointed tips thrusting at the material. “Your breasts?” His hand instantly reached out and hovered over her right breast. She could feel the warmth, though he wasn't touching her. “So swollen,” he whispered, his eyes on the firm globes rising from the chiffon. “So ripe and swollen and ready.” His hand closed suddenly over her breast and a wild shudder ran through her. “Ready for me.”

“Yes. Oh, yes.” The cry was wrung from her. “Please, please do something!”

“Shh, I will.” He pulled her onto his lap, settling her astride him. His fingers were trembling as he pushed the chiffon the last few inches and bared her breasts. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Sweet heaven, you're beautiful, Kira.” He lowered his head slowly. She felt his warm breath, then the firmness of his lips, and she gave a low, frantic half-moan, her fingers tangling in his hair, bringing him to her.

Kira heard his low laugh. Strangely, it held no hint of triumph, only an exultant joy. “You want me. Lord, I love to know that.” The words were muffled against her breast. Then his mouth was opening, taking her, his tongue running over one breast in wild delight and then switching to her other breast to suckle and pleasure her with a hunger that soothed even as it inflamed.

She was vaguely aware of his hands on her thighs pushing up the chiffon while his lips and teeth nibbled, nipped, and then soothed with a deep, primitive enjoyment. His chest was shuddering with every breath and his hands were suddenly frantic as they slipped under the gown and cupped her naked buttocks in his warm palms. Another shock, she thought hazily. Every different touch was a fresh shock to her nerve endings, but a shock that she accepted happily and with amazing rapidity. He was pressing her closer and she felt his iron-hard warmth against the center of her womanhood. She nestled even closer and moaned with hunger. Hunger. She had never known such hunger. He kept taking, giving, but it made no difference. The hunger kept growing, sharpening with every passing moment.

“We have to stop, you know,” he muttered. His hands tightened on her flesh as if to refute his words. “Kira…”

“No!” He couldn't stop now. The hunger was so intense it was hurting her. Was this what he meant when he said that he was hurting? Her hands gentled his hair as she felt a rush of almost maternal feeling. “Please. Don't stop.”

“Do you think I want to?” he growled. His eyes closed. “It's out of control. I didn't expect you to be this… loving.”

Loving. The word should have been out of place, but somehow it wasn't. Lust alone could never be this emotionally intense-there had to be a strong element of love in it. Her fingers ran through his hair yearningly, adoring the crisp texture between her fingers. “That's the way I feel,” she said softly. “I want…” Her voice trailed off. There was so much she wanted all at once that she suddenly felt as though she'd been catapulted into a strange emotional maze. Assuagement on a physical level alone wouldn't be enough, yet what else could she hope for? Zack was a stranger.

“So do I,” he said huskily. His eyes opened to reveal unbearable strain. “But we can't have it. Not yet.” He was swiftly shifting her off him and standing up. “It has to be right.”

“Right?” He was leaving her. She couldn't keep the note of disbelief and frustration out of her voice as she watched him stride swiftly toward the door. “Isn't it a little late to worry about-” She cut the words off abruptly. Her fingers automatically went to her bodice and pulled up the straps of the gown. “I don't understand any of this. Why did you do this to us if you weren't going to finish what you started?”

He turned at the door, his face taut with pain. “I know you don't understand. I told you, I miscalculated. I thought I could take a little and lessen this damn hunger I have for you. But it didn't work out that way. It only made it worse.” His gaze traveled over her and she felt as if he were touching her again. “I'm not even going to be able to look at you or touch your hand without wanting this again.”

“Why?” she asked. Her hands tightened on the arms of the chair. “What's the difference whether it's now or later.”

“You have the right to know me,” he said harshly. “I may not be able to hold out for very long, but I don't want to be a faceless stranger to you when I first make love to you. I want it to be right, dammit. If I didn't think it was important, do you believe I would have let you go?” He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “You'd better get dressed. We'll be leaving for Tamrovia within the hour.”

He closed the door with quiet restraint and it seemed more explosive than a slam to Kira.

She gazed blankly at the door for a moment before she could even consider moving from the chair. She had a vague feeling she should be resentful toward Zack for having wrested the decision from her so summarily. Yet how could she regret the fact that he had been willing to undergo such painful self-denial in order to spare her the possibility of feeling cheapened?

He wanted her to have a chance to get to know him, but in a strange, incomprehensible way she felt that getting to know him was completely unnecessary. She did know him. She knew he was honest and had a code of ethics that would be even harder on him than on those around him. She knew that his loyalty, once given, would be as unshakable as those mountains he had claimed as his own. The knowledge was so fundamentally instinctive she didn't even question it.

Something was happening to them, and although she was still bewildered, she was no longer frightened. Instead, she was beginning to experience a buoyant exhilaration like nothing she had ever known before. It was as if a wonderfully thrilling adventure were hovering on the horizon and all she had to do was move toward it and it would be hers. Dear Lord, how she wanted that adventure!

She jumped up and bent to retrieve the yellow silk robe on the floor. She had to shower, dress, and then repack her night things. She cast a glance at the covered tray on the bed and made a face. The food was probably stone-cold by now. Even if it was still edible, she was too emotion-charged to find food appetizing at the moment. Perhaps she would be able to eat something later on the plane.

Her steps were quick and light, with just a hint of ebullience, as she crossed the carpet toward the adjoining bathroom.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” Zack said, his eyes narrowed on her face. “I had no idea you'd be this happy to get back to Tamrovia. Somehow I got the impression you weren't overly fond of your native land.”

“I'm not. Oh, that's not true. I guess I actually love it.” Kira slipped her arms into the pearl-gray suit jacket she'd removed for the trip. “It's just that I always feel a sense of oppression when I step off a plane onto Tamrovian soil.” She wrinkled her nose. “Which doesn't indicate that I'm particularly sensitive. Stefan is known to have the same effect on the entire country. No one has ever told him monarchs can't censor the press and outlaw trade unions in this century. Or, if they have, he hasn't really heard it.”

“And no habeas corpus,” Zack said thoughtfully. “His particular form of deafness could be very dangerous.”

“Why do you think Stefan has tightened the exit visa restrictions and strengthened the complement of border guards? The Tamrovian factories are all pitifully undermanned because workers are leaving Tamrovia for Germany and Switzerland. Who can blame them?”

A curious smile touched Zack's face. “You seem very well informed for a ‘scatterbrained madcap.’”

Her glance slid away from his. “It's common knowledge. I just don't bury my head in the sand the way Stefan does.”

“Perhaps.” He unfastened his seat belt as the Learjet came to a rolling stop before a hangar in the private sector of the airport. “You didn't answer my question. Why are you in such good spirits all of a sudden?”

She still didn't look at him. “Why shouldn't I be happy? You've promised to free Marna and that's very important to me.”

His hand reached out and fastened on her arm. She could feel the warmth and strength of it through the linen blazer. His eyes met hers with searching gravity. “No games. Truth.”

She opened her lips to make another evasive answer and then closed them again. She didn't want to evade him, even if it meant exposing her vulnerability. “I don't know,” she said simply. “I'm just happy. I think it has something to do with you, Zack.”

His hand tightened on her arm for the briefest instant. “Dear Lord, I hope so.” Then his hand was releasing her and he was rising to his feet. “Come on. Let's get this show on the road. The sooner we can get Marna out, the sooner we can move on to more important things.”

She raised an inquiring brow. “For instance?”

His eyes twinkled. “Why, the mondava, of course.”

She cast him an exasperated glance. “Now who's playing games? If you won't let me in on the big secret, it's not very kind of you to tease me with it.”

“Sorry, you're right. I'm not being fair.” His voice lowered to velvet softness. “I think I went a little giddy for a moment. You see, I find I'm very happy too. Strange, isn't it?”

She was having trouble tearing her gaze away from his. She was sure his eyes spoke of many fascinating things if only she could understand. She stood and picked up her handbag. “We haven't decided what story we're going to tell Stefan about our relationship. Hadn't we better put our heads together?”

“Not exactly the portions of our anatomies I was interested in joining,” he murmured. “But if you insist…” His brow gathered in a thoughtful frown. “Where were you six months ago?”

“Sedikhan.”

“Then that's where we met. I was really in seclusion in Switzerland, putting together a pharmaceutical combine, but only a few people know that. It wouldn't have been unheard of for me to fly to Marasef for a conference with Alex Ben Raschid and run into you there. I took one look at you and-voilà-instant passion.”

She frowned. “I'm not the kind of woman who inspires instant insanity in men, Zack. Do you think anyone will believe it?”

He slowly shook his head. “What am I going to do with you? In case you didn't notice, only this morning I gave an extemporaneous demonstration of how insane you're capable of driving a man.” His finger gently touched the hollow of her cheek. “I promise to be very convincing. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. Happiness bubbled up in her like a clear, golden stream. She turned away as the door of the Learjet opened and stairs were rolled up to the entrance. “If you don't think Stefan will think something is fishy.”

“Let me take care of it. I've probably handled more difficult customers than your brother Stefan. Corporate types are far more ruthless than diplomats.”

“I just might do that. I haven't had any great degree of luck in influencing Stefan up to the present.”

“I've noticed,” he said dryly as he took her elbow and urged her toward the door. “I'm surprised that Marna didn't just put a spell on him instead of your unfortunate suitors.”

“She couldn't. It would have been a gesture of disloyalty to the royal household and would have broken the tradition that binds her people to the Rubinoff dynasty.” She suddenly frowned as her gaze swept over his big body, still garbed in the sweatshirt and jeans he'd put on that morning. “Where is your jacket?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“You can't go outside like that.”

He went still. “Is Her Highness ashamed to be seen with me?”

“Don't be stupid,” she said crossly. “It may be hot in Tucson, but it's autumn in the Balkans, and it can be very cool here in October. You can't run around just in jeans and a sweatshirt. You might catch cold.”

“Really.” A flicker of tenderness transformed the wary hardness of his face. “Well, I certainly wouldn't want to do that. A cold in the head might prove very inconvenient at the moment.” He opened a shallow closet, pulled out a beige suede jacket, and slipped it on. “Satisfied?”

She nodded contentedly. “Yes. Now you're being sensible.”

“I'm known to be a very sensible man.” He directed a grin at her before he stepped back to allow her to precede him down the stairs. “Sometimes.”

“Your dual personality?” she asked over her shoulder. “I would think you'd feel very Jekyll and Hyde with-”

“Who's that?” Zack's gaze had focused on someone beyond her shoulder and his voice was so sharp it startled her.

Her head turned to follow his gaze and she unconsciously tensed. “We're evidently about to be honored,” she said quietly as she watched the tall, lean man approaching them with leisurely catlike grace. “It's Sandor Karpathan.”

Zack gave a low whistle. “This little junket may prove more entertaining than I thought. I can see why he made you uneasy. He has-”

“Condar. Strength,” Kira finished flatly. “Marna says he is a disek, one of the exceptional ones who can be anything he wants to be. But diseks can be evil as well as good. She doesn't trust him. She says there is something not as it should be.”

Condar. Yes, the word suited Karpathan, just as the impression inherent in the word power fitted Zack. He was in his middle thirties and his slender body was clothed in a flawlessly tailored three-piece beige suit, which he wore with effortless grace. His hair was dark and barbered by a master hand, his shoes shined to a mirror gloss. His features were just as perfect as his dress and he should have looked a trifle effeminate. But there was nothing effeminate about Sandor Karpathan. He appeared to be tough, intelligent, and dangerous.

His smile was a brilliant flash in his bronzed face as he stopped before her and bowed. “Your Highness, I was informed by immigration that you would be arriving this afternoon and I took this opportunity to come and meet you.”

“How kind of you, Sandor,” Kira said ironically. “I didn't realize you'd missed me. I've only been gone three days.”

“But we always miss you, no matter how short your journey,” he said softly. “There are some people who take the sunshine with them when they leave.”

“How very flowery. I'm sure both you and Tamrovia survived my absence.” Karpathan and Zack were sizing each other up like two gladiators about to enter the arena, and she doubted if either man heard her. “However, I think it far more likely you were interested in the information immigration gave you regarding my companion.”

Karpathan shrugged. “I admit to a touch of curiosity. After all, I'm only human.” His smile was totally charming. “The two of you made every newspaper in Europe this morning. Mr. Damon is such an elusive man; I found it very interesting that you managed to capture him.”

“But she didn't.” Zack took a step closer and his arm slid around her waist in swift possession. “I'm the one who captured her. Introduce us, Kira.”

“Of course,” she said quickly. “Zack Damon, this is His Grace, Sandor Anton Karpathan, the Duke of Limtana and personal adviser to my brother.”

Karpathan held out his hand. “My friends at Oxford called me Sand.” He grinned. “I think it was meant to remind me that the title didn't give me any right to put on airs. I hope you will call me Sand.”

Zack took his hand and found himself looking into eyes of deep sapphire-blue. Very familiar eyes. He glanced at Kira. “You're related?”

“The eyes?” She nodded. “We're distant cousins. That particular color seems to pop up repeatedly in the family.”

Karpathan grimaced. “You notice the emphasis on distant? I can't seem to convince Kira what a wonderful fellow I am. I hope you'll be more ready to accept my friendship.”

“Why do you want to be friends with me?” Zack asked bluntly. “I'm here purely for a social visit because Kira wanted me to see her country.”

“How very sentimental,” Karpathan murmured. “Kira must have a very odd effect on you. I hadn't heard that you were prone to such emotion.”

“She does have an odd effect on me,” Zack said quietly. “But I'm enjoying the hell out of it.”

There was an elusive flicker in Karpathan's eyes. “I believe you're sincere. How refreshing. I'm afraid I've become something of a cynic, and I admit I doubted your devotion to my little cousin.”

“I'm very devoted.” Zack smiled gently. “Why shouldn't I be? You said yourself that Kira walks in sunshine.”

“Not you too,” Kira wailed, wrinkling her nose. “I'm beginning to get a little nauseous with all this sweet talk floating around.”

“You're right. She's very hard to convince.” Zack's gaze met Karpathan's. “That's why I'm here. When we met six months ago in Sedikhan, I told her we were meant for each other, but she thought I was crazy. I've got to convince her that I'm not a man to change his mind.”

“I don't think there's any doubt about it,” Karpathan said lightly. “When we heard you were coming, Stefan and I hoped we could interest you in investing in a few industries that need a little shoring up. We're obviously going to be disappointed.” He shrugged. “Oh, well, perhaps we can still lure you into our toils. Stefan is giving a reception in your honor tomorrow night at the palace. I'll invite a few key men to whom you might be interested in talking. Now, may I offer you a ride to the palace? Stefan is very eager to meet you.”

“I just bet he is,” Kira muttered.

Karpathan gave her an amused glance. “You can hardly blame him. It's not every day that Zack Damon is brought into the fold. You must admit you've proved very difficult in the past, Kira. Stefan is delighted that you've finally managed to get it right.”

Kira opened her lips to speak, but Zack quickly said, “We don't need a lift.” He nodded toward the dark brown Mercedes parked by the high wire fence bordering the runway. “I arranged to have one of my people meet us.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot you have contacts everywhere. Even in our small and unimportant country.” He inclined his head. “Then I'll see you at the palace.” He turned and walked swiftly in the direction of the navy-blue limousine parked to the left of the hangar.

Zack was silent as he escorted Kira across the tarmac to the Mercedes. He greeted the driver briefly and helped her into the backseat of the car. Then he settled back against the cushioned upholstery with an absent frown on his face. The car started and began to move out of the airport parking lot with an almost soundless hum of motion.

Kira turned to face him. “Well?”

He looked at her inquiringly.

“Karpathan,” she said with a touch of impatience. “What do you think?”

“I think both you and Marna are right,” he said quietly. “He is a disek. As for what else he is, I have no idea. I'll have to find out.” He reached out and laced his fingers through hers. It was a companionable, intimate gesture, and a tiny river of warmth flowed through her. “And I think we're definitely going to have an interesting few days in picturesque Tamrovia.”