“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.”