The Most Coveted Prize(14)

She took a deep breath, and then asked him in a voice that only trembled very slightly, "What will I need to pack?'

"Very little.'

When Alena's face went bright red and she dropped her lashes over her  eyes Kiryl laughed. He had been so intent on his plan that he had  forgotten for a minute how inexperienced she actually was.

"Ah, I see,' Kiryl teased her. "You are imagining that I plan for you to  wear only the minimum amount of clothing?' He shook his head. "That was  not what I meant at all. I should have said that you need only pack a  few essentials. The rest we will buy when we reach our destination.' He  paused, and then told her softly, "Besides, when I make love to you it  will not be "very little" you will be wearing, it will be only your own  skin-

because the only covering you will need will be my hands, my touch, my kiss and my body.'

Now her face was hotter than ever-and so was her body. The images  conjured up by Kiryl's words were so enticing and exciting that they  made her feel giddy with longing.

"You have three minutes left,' Kiryl reminded her. "And don't forget your passport.'

"But I need to know something,' Alena protested. "Are we going somewhere hot or  … ?'                       
       
           



       

"We are going first to the airport, and for that you will need a coat. More than that I am not prepared to tell you.'

He was looking at his watch again.

The sudden reality of how awful it would be if he were to leave without  her was the only impetus Alena needed to send her almost running into  her bedroom. She stood for several vital seconds, too ecstatically happy  to be able to formulate a single practical thought, until she  remembered how little time she had.

"A few essentials' Kiryl had said, Alena reminded herself as she hurried  into her walk-in wardrobe-cum-dressing room and removed a case, quickly  sweeping her toiletries into it and then equally speedily opening a  drawer to remove a couple of sets of clean underwear, grabbing her  passport from her dressing table drawer to put it into her handbag and  then reaching up for a quilted dark grey parka that toned with her pale  grey cashmere jumper and silk taffeta skirt. Bending down to kick off  her heels, she dropped them into a bag before putting them into the case  and then slipping on a pair of warm lined boots.

"Four minutes,' Kiryl told her when she re-emerged into the sitting room  with her case. "That's one minute too many. For which I shal demand  that you pay me a forfeit, so be warned,' he teased her, looking  pointedly at her mouth in a way that told her the forfeit he had in mind  was going to be a kiss.

"You've got your passport?' he asked, holding out his hand, his manner suddenly briskly businesslike.

Alena nodded her head, automatically reaching into her handbag and  passing it to him. When their fingertips touched Alena felt her whole  body tingle in sensual excitement from that brief contact. And if that  brief contact could have that kind of effect on her, then how was she  going to feel when he really made love to her?

"Come,' Kiryl commanded, holding his hand out to her after he had tucked  her passport away in an inside pocket of the cashmere overcoat he had  previously been carrying but which he was now wearing over his suit.

Just for a second Alena hesitated, suddenly sharply aware of the  symbolism of what taking his hand would mean-of the giant step she would  be taking, leaving behind her the security of her brother's loving  protection to go with a man who until yesterday had been a stranger to  her. A stranger who now held her heart, Alena reminded herself. A  stranger to whom she felt more intimately and emotionally connected than  anyone else she had ever known. A stranger who was, she was sure, the  one to whom she was destined to give her heart and herself.

So not a stranger after all, but her one true love. Once she had given  her hand-herself-to Kiryl she would have given them for ever, she knew.

The smartly uniformed young steward waiting for Alena at the top of the  stairs into the private jet with its discreet corporate logo-Kiryl's  corporate logo-smiled welcomingly at her as he showed her into the  luxuriously appointed cabin, whilst Kiryl spoke with the captain.

"We're cleared for take-off,' the steward told her, stowing her small  case in what looked like a wall but was in fact a bank of cupboards,  "and as soon as we're airborne I'll be serving pre-lunch champagne and  canapés. This is the control for your seat,' he added, showing Alena a  control unit. "If you'd like me to show you how to use it?'



Alena smiled politely and shook her head. She was no stranger to  travelling by private jet-her brother owned one, after all -and she had  recognised the private area of the airport the minute the  chauffeur-driven limousine that had picked them up from the hotel had  turned into it.

The interior of this one might be slightly smaller than her  brother's-Vasilii travelled extensively all over the world-but it was  every bit as luxurious, if not more so. The expensive plain grey carpet  with its black stripe was thick and immaculate, the leather of the  charcoal-grey leather chairs so soft that Alena couldn't resist stroking  her fingertips along the arm of her own.

This section of the cabin was furnished rather like a small meeting  room, with its leather chairs and a sofa, but a door in the dark glass  screen at the rear of the cabin caught her attention.

Seeing her look at it, the steward told her, "The door leads to Mr  Andronov's workstation area, and beyond it are the bathroom and the gall  ey. If I may take your coat for you?'

Nodding her head and returning his smile, Alena allowed him to help her  off with her coat. He was a good-looking young man, with a certain look  in his eyes when his gaze brushed her body that told her he was  attracted to her.

Kiryl, who was on the point of entering the cabin, saw the way the  steward looked at Alena as he took her coat, and the sudden, sharply  savage red burn of male possessiveness that took him from the doorway to  Alena's side was so swift and overwhelming, so instinctive, that it had  dictated his actions before he could even think of defying it.                       
       
           



       

It was, he told himself, perfectly natural-given the importance of the  success of his plan. And, given Alena's naïveté, he wanted to ensure  that no other man showed appreciation of her. His response had been  driven by practicality, that was all. Practicality. Not male  possessiveness, and certainly not male jealousy.

"You still haven't told me where we're going,' Alena reminded Kiryl when he took his own seat preparatory to take-off.

"No, and I don't intend to tell you. It's a surprise, remember?'

"But you can tell me how long the flight will be?' Alena suggested coaxingly.

"Around seven hours,' he told her promptly. "And seven hours could take  us to many places. New York-one of the most vibrant cities on  earth-Oman, or Dubai, where so many Russians love to go in the cold  weather.'

Alena laughed. "Vasilii certainly loves it there. He hates the cold. His mother's family tribe came originally from the desert.'

"Then there is the Caribbean,' Kiryl continued.

"You could always simply tell me where we are going instead of keeping me guessing,' Alena pointed out.

"Ah, but if I did that what would you have to think about for the next seven hours?' Kiryl asked softly.

His words might sound innocent but Alena knew that they were not-just as  she also knew perfectly well exactly what was going to be occupying her  thoughts for the next seven hours. And that would not be their  destination so much as what would happen when they reached that  destination. Kiryl holding her, touching her, taking her to bed and  making her his. Kiryl, Kiryl, Kiryl. He was her journey and her  destination.

Seven hours later, after an elegant lunch of smoked salmon followed by  sea bass served with perfectly cooked vegetables and then champagne and  orange mousse, Kiryl had flirted with her so subtly that some of the  time she hadn't been sure if he had really said or intimated what she  had thought he was saying, or whether it was her own fevered longing and  imagination that had made her believe his words cloaked a deliberately  sensual message and the promise of shared pleasures to come.

One glance out of the jet's window as they started to descend told Alena  exactly where Kiryl was taking her. Her face alight with joy and  excitement, she turned to him to exclaim happily, "St Petersburg! Oh,  Kiryl. Thank you. You remembered what I said about it.' Impulsively she  reached out to him, her hand on his arm, her face turned up towards him.

As he looked down at her the sudden savage ache of physical desire that  gripped his body shocked Kiryl into immobility. She was the one who had  to want him so unbearably that her need was impossible for her to  resist-not the other way around.