‘Devereaux,’ Mackenzie said with a sleepy smile as she felt the warm hand on her bare shoulder. She began to stretch languorously. Eyes still closed, she turned in search of the warm security of his wonderfully muscular body
‘Good morning, Miss Roberts. I’m sorry to wake you.’ Hans’ upper crust English accent jolted her.
Her eyes flew open. Grabbing at the sheet to make sure it covered her completely, she wriggled her way further under the covers. She could hide her body, but it was more difficult to conceal her awkwardness at being found in the prince’s bed.
Good grief. What must Hans be thinking to find her here?
Stark pity.
Gentle compassion.
Slight embarrassment.
Deep regret.
Mackenzie saw all those emotions in Hans’ eyes.
Hell! There was no escape from this situation.
Sitting up very slowly so she didn’t dislodge the bed sheet, her chin jutted forward as she attempted to chase her embarrassment away. ‘Good morning, Hans.’ As if it were the most natural thing in the world to wake up in Dev’s bed amid tossed sheets that broadcast the tale of a night of passion. ‘Where is Prince Devereaux?’
Hans actually winced. ‘I’m so sorry, Miss Roberts. The prince … well … he doesn’t make a habit of seeing the women he’s …’ Hans shifted on his feet and looked the picture of discomfort before he straightened and cleared his throat. The next words he uttered were official—as though he launched automatically into a speech he’d delivered thousands of times before. He looked straight ahead—instead of at Mackenzie—as he said, ‘The prince sends his thanks for your … er … company last night.’
Silence.
Seconds dragged.
‘That’s it?’ Aghast, Mackenzie couldn’t hold the question back.
What the hell had happened to his decision to embark on a more serious relationship?
Hans bit down on his lip and creases of consternation appeared on his forehead. ‘Miss Roberts, I’m sure King Gabriel will understand if—in light of the prince’s … um … one-night stand with you—you don’t want to remain here at the palace.’
One-night stand.
A punch to her solar plexus from a heavy-weight boxing champion couldn’t have rendered Mackenzie any more winded or delivered any more pain.
The bastard!
Oh geez. Mackenzie wished she could sink through the floor. Heat flooded through her cheeks and she knew the true despair of complete mortification for the first time in her life.
Mercifully, the heat was replaced by a chilling numbness. It started in the region of her heart, froze the vital organ until it was heavily encased in a block of ice, then spread out through her entire body until she had no feeling in her fingers or toes.
‘I fetched your …’ Hans cleared his throat. Once again he became official, giving her the sense that this was a scene he’d played out countless times. ‘I placed your clothes at the end of the bed, Miss Roberts. I’ll leave you to get dressed.’ He gave a brief nod. ‘I’ll let you see yourself out.’ Then, he spun quickly on his heel and vacated the room as though a thousand hungry hounds were on his tail.
A whoosh of air escaped from Mac’s lungs.
Pulling her feet up along the mattress, she rested her arms on her knees and wriggled her toes to try to get some feeling back in them.
She was as hollow as if her insides had been scooped out. She shook her head to try to clear the fog of disbelief that misted her brain. Devereaux had sent his assistant to give her marching orders. The impersonal action told her everything she needed to understand. She’d thought last night was the beginning of something special.
What a fool! She’d completely misunderstood his intentions!
Clearly, when he’d spoken about his decision to go along with the King’s plans to consider a more serious relationship, Devereaux hadn’t been contemplating it would be with Mackenzie.
She buried her face in her hands.
Heartbroken, she realised that once again she’d been one of those women who went to bed with an experienced playboy and stupidly believed things would be different—that she was more than just the latest in the line. There’d been a desperate hope in her heart that she had whatever it was going to take to change him. After the mind-blowing sex, she’d allowed the tiny seed of hope to flourish. She’d truly believed that it’d been just as incredible for Dev as it had for her and that they had a future together.
How pathetic!
What about how jealous he seemed of Gabriel paying attention to you? her inner voice questioned. He’d been determined not to leave Gabe alone with her. Had it all been a matter of ‘If I can’t have you, then neither can my brother’? With the benefit of hindsight, the cringe-worthy thought seemed true.
Her initial reaction was to go to Devereaux, call him a low-life bastard, and rant and rave at him about how he’d deceived her. But, that was hardly fair. Maybe she’d wanted him so badly, she’d deliberately misunderstood his intentions. It was hardly his fault she’d become addicted to his brand of lovemaking throughout the night.
She’d believed nobody could make love so tenderly, unselfishly and thoroughly without being emotionally involved with their lover. Now, she had to acknowledge how inexperienced she was with relationships and admit she’d been wrong. The blame for imagining what they’d shared had been more than one night of shared lust, lay firmly at her door.
Raising her head from her hands, she accepted the responsibility for her actions.
Were you also just a little caught up in the challenge of winning him over? Her conscience taunted.
It was possible. Maybe part of her had wanted to succeed with Dev where she’d failed with Grayson?
How arrogant was I? she wondered. How could I have entertained the possibility that
I’d have what it took to win Devereaux over? But, hadn’t he told her he cared?
Face the stark reality. You failed to win Grayson’s love, and now you’ve failed with Devereaux.
At least Devereaux hadn’t deceived her like Gray by whispering words of love before, during or after their sensational sex. Gray had given her a diamond ring and promised marriage. Devereaux hadn’t.
Devereaux had warned her he wasn’t the man for her and he’d been right.
She tried to be pragmatic—tried to ignore the shattering internal pain in her chest.
Fighting for what she wanted and believed in was part of her DNA. But, Hans had delivered Devereaux’s message in no uncertain terms. All that was left for her to do was accept it, bury their personal relationship and resurrect their professional one. She had an assignment to complete and Eliza to return to. She’d be no good for her daughter if she mooned around over an affair where the odds had never been in her favour.
Just hide your heartache and get on with it!
Trying to keep a lid on the tears that threatened, she searched for a positive.
Devereaux had reintroduced her to passion. Since Gray, she’d totally absorbed herself in Eliza, her studies and then her work—in that order. With every ounce of inner strength she could muster, she choked back a sob and told herself sternly that it was time to move forward and entertain the idea of dating.
She glanced at the scene of her seduction. Just looking at the rumpled black satin sheets caused heat to shoot all the way through her. It had been one incredibly passionate night …
No! Don’t think about it! Be strong!
She wrenched her eyes away. This time she wouldn’t swear off men. Goddamn it! Other people found love. There had to be a guy out there somewhere who could make her feel just as physically satisfied as Devereaux had, but who could actually fall in love with her.
Straightening her spine and clamping her teeth together, she vowed not to let Devereaux know she’d woven fantasies around their night together and clung to a hope that theirs would be more than his usual one-night fling. It wouldn’t do any good for her professional image or their working relationship if he thought she’d read more into the situation than he’d intended. The connection she’d imagined they’d shared had to be buried if she was to fulfil the terms of her business contract and walk away with her pride intact.