As Rafe gradually came back to awareness, he gave a pained moan. His head was throbbing, and it felt as if it might crack open at any moment. His head felt as large as a melon. The swaying motion he was feeling was not helping matters. Combined with the pounding in his head, he thought it just might cause him to throw up.
Rafe tried to swallow, but his mouth felt like it was full of sawdust. He took a deep breath, trying to ease his nausea, and the smell of sweet jasmine and clean woman wafted through his nose. That scent was startlingly familiar. His eyes opened instantly, and they locked with the warm sherry eyes directly across from him.
Queen Eleta sat watching him with a delicate frown on her face. Rafe blinked and shook his head to clear it, ignoring the fresh stabs of pain the movement caused. His own brows drew together in the fiercest of scowls. He braced an arm on the seat of the coach and slowly sat up, eyeing her warily the whole time.
Little did he know that the queen's thoughts were focused on their brief encounter in the library. She had not intended to let things get so out of hand, especially since she had known that her trusted guardsman was lurking in the shadows. However, when Rafe had pressed her against the door and kissed her so passionately, she had forgotten everything and had simply responded to his touch. Nothing in her extensive sexual training had prepared her for the overwhelming desire she would feel for this man. She had been so caught up in the pleasure of her first climax that she had not even moved to cover herself when Rafe had been knocked unconscious. Sir Eric had averted his eyes and gallantly draped his own cloak around her to cover her naked breasts. Only then, had she managed to recover her scattered wits. Eleta could not allow herself to lose control like that again. She needed to steer their interaction back onto the right path toward fulfilling the prophecy. With that thought in mind, she sat patiently beneath Rafe's searching gaze.
As Rafe took in her appearance, his eyes bulged slightly. The twin lanterns in the coach allowed him to see even more detail than he had in the dim hall of his castle. The deep emerald green of her gown accentuated the fairness of her skin and her ebony hair. The garment was lovingly fitted to her curvaceous form, and Rafe's eyes were drawn repeatedly to the shadowed valley of her cleavage. The generous swells of her breasts fulfilled every fantasy he had of feminine perfection. As the coach rattled and bounced, so did those sumptuous orbs. It was a struggle not to stare. But she was the queen. She was the ultimate forbidden fruit! Unless he was her betrothed or her prince, he had absolutely no right to ogle her. Yet with every jolt of the wheels, Rafe found his eyes kept wandering back to appreciate the sights.
The queen appeared to be oblivious to his fascination. "How are you feeling?" she asked quietly.
He cleared his throat to answer, and his voice came out as an ominous growl. "I would feel a lot better if I knew what the hell was going on, your Majesty."
"Oh, so you did recognize me," she replied with a soft chuckle. "I thought so." Her eyes twinkled as she met his gaze. "I had begun to wonder whether you would ever figure out who I was."
Her husky laugh reminded him of their teasing banter...and all that had transpired afterward. He was mortified by the lustful behavior he had already shown his sovereign. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist another peek at her bosom.
"Of course I recognize you, ma'am," Rafe replied with a puzzled frown. "I've seen many portraits of you. Your beauty is famous throughout the realm and beyond."
He studied her face in detail for the first time. Hair of the deepest ebony was dressed high on her head, leaving the slender column of her neck exposed. Her black hair and elegant brows complemented her lustrous and fair complexion. Her eyes were large and almond shaped. Their color was most unusual, making him think once again of fine sherry. The fact that they were fringed with thick sooty lashes and tilted up slightly at the corners lent them an air of seductive mystery. Her nose was slim, and her cheekbones were high and delicately formed. He would swear the hint of pink riding their outer contours was not the result of rouge. Nor was the deep red of her lips. His eyes were drawn to her lush mouth, and he remembered exactly how those lips felt beneath his own. He barely stifled his groan of longing.
Rafe's gaze met hers once more. "The artists did not do you justice, your Majesty. I'm afraid even the most talented of them could not capture the depth and breadth of your loveliness."
Eleta gave a smile and small nod to acknowledge the compliment. She had heard many extol her beauty, but she had never felt nervous flutters in her stomach when they did so. The rich timbre of his voice touched something deep within her. She cleared her throat to cover her jitters. She was trying not to remember the liberties she had already allowed this man to take, and she definitely didn't want to think about all those yet to come. She would lose her focus entirely.
"I am honored that you know who I am," she teased. "I had the impression that you could not remember the difference between one woman and another."
Rafe's brows drew together. "Your Majesty, I am afraid you have misjudged me. You can hardly condemn my lack of memory since we had, in fact, never met until now." He gave her a pointed frown.
She waved her hand in airy dismissal. "Nevertheless, your Grace, it was quite amusing watching you try to narrow down the many women of your...acquaintance."
The emphasis she placed on that last word brought a light flush to his cheeks. She thought his lips twitched ever so slightly. "Ma'am, you can hardly expect that a man of my age should not have had any past lovers."
One slim brow arched and she gave him an impish grin. "True, but neither did I think there would be so many that you would not be able to remember them all." Seeing him squirm, she gave a soft chuckle and relented. "I apologize for tricking you," she murmured. "I am afraid it could not be helped."
Rafe arched one brow, instantly regretting it. He winced as he gingerly touched the base of his skull, groaning when his fingers probed a small, raised lump.
Eleta watched him, feeling pangs of remorse. She chided herself for own foolishness. A small bump on the head was nothing compared to what she would eventually have to do to him. She cleared her throat nervously again. She was not used to feeling so unsettled.
"Would you care for a drink?" she asked sweetly.
Rafe gazed at her suspiciously, obviously hesitant to accept the flask she was offering.
She noticed his mistrust and smiled reassuringly. "There is no need to worry," she chided. "I haven't poisoned it. See?"
She raised the flask to her lips and drank deeply. Rafe's eyes were riveted to her luscious mouth. Once again, he remembered exactly how those same ripe lips had tasted and felt beneath his own. The memory made him instantly hard. A dark flush crept up his throat, and he hoped she would not notice the bulge between his legs. As if she read his thoughts, her eyes dropped to his loins, and then her gaze locked with his. A frisson of awareness passed between them.
Rafe was more than slightly confused. He knew the queen was still a maiden, but she behaved as if she were no stranger to games of seduction. Unlike the virgin she was reputed to be, she was neither shy nor hesitant. In fact, he had entertained courtesans who were less bold! Memories of what he had done with her in the library caused his flush to rise up his neck and face. It was more than slightly ironic that he felt like an untried youth, and she was behaving like an experienced woman of the world. She seemed to be purposely inflaming his lust with both her actions and her clothing, and he had no idea why. She was betrothed to another man, for heaven's sake! Against his will, Rafe's gaze dropped to her bosom once again, and he stifled a groan.
Beneath his gaze, Eleta felt her mouth go suddenly as dry as a desert. Though appearing outwardly calm, Eleta was shaken to her core. All her education and training had not prepared her for what she would feel while dealing with this man. He had always been just some faceless enemy, a theoretical foe to be vanquished. Yet in person, he was so much more. He was steely muscle and hard bone, sculpted into the most tempting form imaginable. He made her feel desirable and irresistible. When his eyes ran over her body, heat welled beneath her skin, and she found it difficult not to squirm self-consciously while he looked his fill. Remembering the moment he had pleasured her against the library door, Eleta felt her nipples tighten, until they were achingly hard nubs. She had never imagined that his touch would bring such ecstasy and yet leave her wanting so much more. Of a sudden, she could not draw a deep enough breath.
Eleta leaned toward him as she held out the flask invitingly. "You must be thirsty. Here."