'The northern terrain is home to our much-lauded olive groves too. Far better than yours.'
'Now, now, Thane. Your head is getting a little too big over there.'
He grinned, amazed that they were joking about what had once been a life-threatening issue.
'Once upon a time we grew the best oranges too. Arunthian oranges are tasteless in comparison.'
She rolled her eyes. 'Of course they are.'
'I'm serious. Our crops were said to be the best in Europe. But your great-grandfather didn't like it that overseas trade demand was greater for ours, or that we made more money than he did. So he sent in men to disease our crops. Not one survived.'
Her head reared as if he'd slapped her. 'That's a lie! Nothing more than propaganda!'
'It is not. I swear it. In many ways we continue to suffer from that loss now.'
'But … but that's terrible.'
'Si. It is. Just one of the spats our countries-or should I say the houses of Verbault and Guerrero-have engaged in over the centuries.'
Her nose scrunched up as she grimaced. 'Hard to believe we were allies-sister islands at one time. I have heard some gruesome and horrific accounts … '
'And I bet we were always the villains.'
Thane didn't bother to wait for her to agree; they both knew he was right.
'I won't lie-I imagine we committed many an outrageous act not to be proud of, but most were in retaliation. If you care to go back far enough it all comes down to Arunthia's greed. Galancia has always been the richer in industry, and many an Arunthian leader has tried to take it by force. Almost succeeded two or three times too. But it just made us stronger. Hence we have an indomitable military presence. Now no one would dare to touch us.'
Those decadently long lashes swept downward, as if his words weighed heavily on her mind. 'I can see why you wish to be feared, in that case. To protect what you have. No matter what it takes.'
Thane narrowed his gaze on her, sure there was a deeper meaning to her hushed words-which had been spoken in a cracked parody of her usual tone. When she failed to elucidate he ploughed on, riding the imperative desire for her to know. Understand.
'We stop at nothing. Which has caused a whole new set of problems for us. Because to protect, to build an army, takes an obscene amount of money. More than you could ever imagine. So the crown hoards the land for revenue and taxes businesses until they can't breathe-until we've suffocated our own. All to make us indestructible. More powerful than any other. While our children need new schools and our hospitals are in dire need of repair.'
Sadness crept over her demeanour, making her eyes darken. 'That makes so much sense it's scary.'
'My uncle will never release those bonds on our people. Nor will he let the feud go-just like my father before him. His father before that. The hatred is inbred.'
'I know. My father is the same. But what I don't understand is why Franco Guerrero is in power and you're not. Why haven't you taken your throne?'
'Must we talk about this now, Luciana?'
'Yes, Thane, we must. You brought me here against my wishes. You talk about marrying me … which is ludicrous. We don't even know one another. And basically all you expect me to go on is rumours and secrets and lies. So here I am blindfolded, smack-bang in the midst of a labyrinth, not knowing which way to turn. Can't you see that?'
Disquiet hummed through his mind. He didn't particularly want her to know how dark he was inside, how deeply twisted by it all.
They'd reached a shaded wrought-iron arbour often used by his workers and Thane swung his right leg over the saddle and dropped onto uneven ground, determined to tread carefully over the minefield that was the past.
He was too close to success to risk everything now, by admitting he'd been a trigger away from assassinating her father. Especially when some days he regretted not doing so, since his people had ultimately paid the price. Other days he accepted it would have severed the very last thread of humanity he'd been clinging to at the time. And today, looking at the man's daughter-the woman he wanted as his wife, the woman who would give him his crown-he couldn't help but wonder if fate truly did move in mysterious ways.
* * *
Vigilance tautened his striking features, telling Luciana she was trying to open a conversational door best left shut. Then an artful devious light shone in his dark eyes and he stretched out his arms, gripped her waist and lifted her down, dragging her body against his.
The friction charged her pulse and set off a chain reaction she was powerless against. Inside her bra her breasts grew heavy, aching to be touched. Those burning butterflies went wild, flitting in and around her ribcage, and her panties suddenly felt too damp, too tight.
'Let's have lunch in the shade,' he murmured, his voice enriched with sin. 'It's stifling out here in the open.'
Translation: I'll seduce you in the bushes until you forget your own name, never mind this discussion.
Er … no. She thought not.
Though her resolve would be less painful to stick to if she stopped gawping at the man. Thane in a pair of tall sepia leather boots, black riding trousers and a skin-tight red polo shirt-collar flicked up to tease his hair and short sleeves lovingly caressing his sculpted biceps-was a head-rush all on its own.
So she made a clumsy job of sidestepping outside his magnetic force field.
Out came his arm, to snake around her waist, and she dodged like the netball champion she'd once been and shook her head. 'Oh, no, you don't. I know full well what you're up to, Romeo, and you can forget it. Talk.'
Growling, he turned away. 'Fine.'
Then, just as she breathed a sigh of relief, he came at her from another angle, as if he'd played her with misdirection and now … pounce … stole a tummy-flipping, bone-liquefying kiss from her mouth. Only to grin with acute smugness and walk away.
Her hand shot out and she found Galileo, to steady herself, even as she bit her lip to stifle a gurgle of laughter. He was incorrigible. Couldn't stand being told no. Losing in any way. And, seriously, she shouldn't laugh-because the man was dangerous with it. Kidnapping, stealing kisses … He was off-the-charts unpredictable, and that scared her more than anything.
And it thrills you just as much.
Thane grabbed the lunch bag and Luciana rolled a blanket across the grass beneath the leafy trellised ceiling, where it was blissfully cooler. Then she sat cross-legged and unpacked a tapas feast of cold cut meats, cheeses and rosemary-scented bread.
Throat dry, she drank greedily from a bottle of sparkling water, trying not to splutter or drool as Thane dropped to the red chequered blanket and lounged back on his elbows in an insolent pose, crossing one ankle over the other. She had the shameless urge to climb over his lap, sit on those muscular thighs and feel all that latent erotic power beneath her. And-just her rotten luck-he caught her staring and fired her the most indecently hedonistic smile she'd ever seen.
Luciana deflected his corruption tactics with a haughty sniff. 'I'm waiting. So talk.'
'I have the strangest urge to take you over my knee.'
She harnessed the shiver that threatened to rattle her spine. 'And I have the strangest urge to get back on that horse and leave you to eat lunch by yourself.'
The brute actually grinned at that, then popped an olive in his mouth. Though when his humour faded, to be replaced by an aching torment, she almost let him off the hook, hating to see him in the throes of anguish. Oh, he banked it soon enough-but it was too late.
'When my father knew he was dying I had only just turned seventeen … ' He paused, as if figuring out his next words. 'He ordered me to do a job, and at the very last moment I defied him. I thought I'd seen and felt his fury before then. I had seen nothing.' He shrugged blithely. 'I deserved every blow for going against him, and I could have lived with that, or anything else he doled out to me personally. What I hadn't expected was the depth of his wrath and the price my people would pay.'
Abruptly, he jerked upright and rested his forearm on one bended knee.
'When I failed him he decided I was too cocky, too young … too free-thinking to rule. Too liberal. I had shown my true colours. My father and my uncle are of the same ilk. Dictators. Born and bred militia. So my punishment was a stipulation that said I couldn't take power until I was thirty years old. Until I had learned my lesson.'
Outrage and the fiercest taste of bitter acrimony roiled in her stomach. To give his uncle time to work him over, no doubt. As if anyone could reshape Thane's mind. The very idea was ludicrous.
'I deserved every blow … '
The man didn't even flinch or care that he'd been beaten. No, all he cared about was that he'd failed his people.
'What made you break from the pack?' she asked, awed. 'Being of the same ilk and all.'
Luciana couldn't begin to comprehend the strength it would have taken to set himself apart from such men. The stories she'd heard-the ones she had nightmares about, imagining Natanael embroiled in them-brought her out in a cold sweat.
In one graceful movement he was up on his feet, leaning against an iron post, focused on the rolling hills.