CHAPTER FOUR
Naruto was angry. Ridiculously angry. He had no right to be angry, either.
He knew last night was a one-time only, he knew when he woke this morning that he'd never let his control slip like that again, and yet the knowledge did nothing to ease the hot. Livid emotion building inside him.
The fact that he still had any emotion inside him shocked him.
He'd been the vigilante—the terminator—so long he hadn't thought he could care about people, needs, feelings. But he was caring about something at the moment, and it was a mistake.
Emotions got in the way of him doing his job.
"How are the ribs?" he asked, his voice coming out short curt. He shouldn't still be sitting here naked. He shouldn't still be fighting desire. He shouldn't even be thinking about stripping the still damp skirt and blouse off her curvy body and pulling his mouth against her sun warmed skin and drinking her like a sweet strawberry Italian soda.
His body hardened. It was impossible to forget how she'd felt beneath him. He was ready to take her again, ready to slide his hands across her breasts, her belly, her thighs. Ready to feel her squirm and whimper and cry with pleasure.
"Fine," she answered crisply, balling her undergarments tighter into her hand. He felt his lips twist in a savage smile. Last night she'd been broken... open... but this morning she'd remembered who she was, who he was. What her title represented. Princess Hinata Hamazaki born Princess Hinata Shinobi, probably the world's most beautiful, famous princess. No one was more photographed. No one was more regal.
And she was regal now, even with her long dark hair loose over her shoulders. Even with the wet clothes clinging to her slender figure, she managed to tip her straight nose, press her full mouth light. She'd become so perfectly proper again. She'd become exactly who she was supposed to be and even though it was right, it made his head hurt, his pulse pound, made him want to lose his temper as only he could lose his temper.
And he had one hell of a temper, too.
"Do you mind turning around?" she said icily, gesturing with her finger.
He ground his teeth together. Did she honestly think he hadn't seen everything?
That he hadn't memorized every curve of her body, every dip and hollow and soft satin place?
But she was staring at him pointedly, and with an exasperated sigh he rose.
Hinata's heart stuttered and then nearly broke through her chest as Naruto slowly got to his feet.
How she could have fallen so willingly into his arms?
He was huge. Muscular. Intimidating. Hiro had been an aristocrat, medium height, lithe, slender, with hands like a pianist—long slender fingers, narrow wrists.
Naruto Uzumaki was anything but narrow and slender. He was thickly built, broad through the shoulder, deep in the chest, thighs, bull hard with light, compact muscle. Blonde hair shadowed his chest, formed a line trail down his flat carved abdomen to a thatch at his thighs. Male, his body screamed. I am all male.
She wanted to avert her eyes but knew it was too late. They'd been... intimate.
Very. Besides she'd been married before, conceived a child, delivered a child. It wasn't as if she didn't know how men's bodies worked, how men and women came together for pleasure and procreation.
But their joining last night had had nothing to do with procreation, which left just pleasure.
With his back to her. She struggled out of her blouse again, groaning softly at the effort of trying to hook the bra. Each lift of her arm. Each twist lanced pain through her. Hot and sharp. Blinking back tears, she tried to get the hook to take a second time.
"Enough." Naruto ground out, turning around. He took the delicate straps of the bra from her and deftly hooked the bra closed. "It's absurd to not let me help you."
"I don't want your help."
"Too bad, isn't it?" He bent down, picked up her blouse from her feet and held it out.
"You shouldn't—" she broke off. Bit hard on the inside of her cheek, held the recriminations in. She couldn't blame him. She'd allowed it to happen.
Worse, she'd wanted it to happen.
He buttoned the blouse for her. Even tucked it into the waistband of her skirt, and heat filled her at the brush of his fingers against her skin. Eyes closed, she felt her stomach clench and remembered the way his body had joined with hers, how his body had taken hers, a deep, relentless assault on her frozen self.
How to stay cold when someone so hot, so hard was taking your breath away? He'd tilled her completely, driven every thought from her mind until all she fell, all she wanted, all she needed was him. Each thrust of his hips rocked her world, creating wave after wave of excruciating sensation. She couldn't survive pleasure like that.
It'd been so intense, too intense, and yet he wouldn't let her hold back. He just kept driving into her. Hard, thick thrusts that sent her shattering.
"Thank you." she said stiffly as he finished his task and took a step away. And she commended herself for sounding so cool when on the inside she felt feverish all over again. She had to forget. She had to put the memory of her shuddering response out of mind. Had to block out how she'd held onto him for ages, her body rippling with aftershock after aftershock, her nails pressed to his shoulders. Had to forget that he'd just about finished her off when he kissed her breast, suckling her aching nipple.
How did some men know exactly what to do? How could Hiro with all his experience, never give her any pleasure? How could lying with Naruto here on the beach become the most sexual, sensual night of her life?
"What about the panties?" he drawled.
She went hot cold, and she fought to keep her gaze above his waist. He was so powerfully made, and with his magnificent body completely naked, she discovered he was hard, very hard. She found his arousal this morning shocking and exciting.
What did he think of last night? Was it good for him, or had it all been about her?
His blue eyes met hers and held.
She felt a shiver race up and down her back. In the morning light he looked even more dominant than he did at night. While the storm had raged, he'd held her safe in his arms and now she knew why. Naruto wasn't about to be blown away by sea breezes or tropical storms. He wasn't about to be blown away by anything.
"I can help you." he reminded her.
"Please." She meant to sound sarcastic, instead it came out breathless. She was losing control again, and she knew she couldn't. "This was a mistake, Mr. Uzumaki—"
"I think we're past formalities now, Hinata."
The way he said her name sent another hot shiver racing through her. Flashes of feeling in her belly. She was burning hot on the inside. "'Could you please put some clothes on?"
He smiled. Grimly. "Of course. Princess."
Relations were most definitely strained. Hinata thought, disgusted with herself.
He'd been wonderful on the plane, the kind of man she might have actually enjoyed as a friend, but now... now...
Never.
"What exactly do you do?" she asked, digging into the sand with a little stick, trying to ignore the growling of her stomach, the heat around them, the near sweltering conditions. According to her watch, it was close to noon and he still refused to let her return to the plane wreckage—something she found utterly absurd—but at this point, with tender ribs and a stunning headache, she wasn't going to test him.
"I have my own business."
She tried to imagine what kind of business he'd be in. "You're successful?"
"Very."
She nodded and poked the stick deeper into the hole she'd dug. Finding water down below the surface sand. "And you have your own island?"
"Yes."
Hinata heard a droning sound overhead, a faraway hum of engine. "Do you hear that?"she asked, tilting her head back, scanning the endlessly blue sky.
She didn't wait for Naruto to answer. She struggled to her feet, pressing her right arm to her side to keep the tender ribs and surrounding muscles as still as possible. Suddenly a plane swooped low overhead from behind the tall trees of the rainforest.
Hinata let out a shout of relief. "They found us!"
The plane circled the island. It descended even lower, making a final approach. "We should go. It's landing," she said, checking the buttons on her blouse, then the hem of her salt-stained skirt.
Naruto didn't move. "That's not our plane."
"It's a rescue plane." She was hot and hungry and ready for a shower and clean clothes. And if he wasn't going to head back, fine, but she wasn't about to waste another minute here. "Fine, stay here. I don't care."
He reached out circled her ankle, held her still. "It's not our plane," he repeated.
She very nearly kicked his hand, his fingers so warm, too warm against her bare skin. "Let go."
"Once you sit down."
This wasn't even about power. It was survival, pure and simple. Naruto Uzumaki was too much for her. She couldn't handle him. Couldn't even handle herself around him. "I don't want to sit down. I want to go join my staff. I want to board the plane—"
"We're waiting for a different plane. Princess."
She could feel his fingers wrap around each of the small bones in her ankle, feel his warm firm palm along the back of her anklebone and she shivered. His fingers tightened.
"I don't think you understand me, Naruto. I don't want to wait for another plane. I want this one."
"I'm sorry."
She yanked on her ankle, got nowhere at all. "Stop. Just stop this game right now. I want to go."
"You can't."
She felt a shaft of cold, her skin prickling with heightened nerves. "You're beginning to frighten me."
"I've no desire to frighten you. It's my job to protect you." He released her, fluidly stood. "Your safety is my number one concern."
She stared at him for the longest moment, eyes searching the hard planes of his face, the dark stubble on his square jaw. "Why? What do you mean?"
"You've no idea who I am, do you?"
She hated the confusion filling her. And her lips pressed, her heart beating double fast. "No."
There was much more she wanted to say but she'd learned years ago to ask only the most pressing questions, to fight only the most essential battles. But surely, this was one of those battles. "Who are you?"
His eyes creased at the corners. He looked as if he were enjoying a private joke.
"Your shadow."
She might have learned to bite her tongue, but Hinata hated sarcasm and cryptic answers. It was so typical of the kind of answers Hiro and his people gave her, answers indicating that she didn't need to know certain things, answer indicating that as a woman she ought to be ignored... lied to.
Her nails dug into her palms. She'd had it with the lies, had it with the silence. "My shadow? As in—" her eyes searched his, trying to see past the hard veneer that hid his thoughts and all his emotions "—bodyguard?"
"Exactly."
She frowned, increasingly uncomfortable. Maybe she'd never handpicked her security detail, but she'd always been part of the final selection process and been promptly introduced to new staff. "I didn't hire you."
"No."
She felt a muscle twitch between her eyebrows, a small convulsive tug. "Then...?"
He gave her a long, level look, as if weighing what he could tell her, weighing what he would tell her. It was already clear to her that he wasn't accustomed to confiding in women. But then, she wasn't an ordinary woman, either. "Your brother in-law. King Kazuri, hired me—"
"Sai?"
"—With your grandfather's blessing."
Hinata felt cold despite the simmering heat. She reached up blotted her forehead with the back of her hand. Her skin was beaded, damp, and yet she felt chilly on the inside. "I'm afraid the heat is getting to me. I don't understand. Nothing you're saying is making sense—"
"You're not listening, then."
She needed a bath. Sand and sea coated her skin. The heat and humidity wasn't helping, cither. "Then say it again."
"Your family hired me to protect you."
"Why?"
"You're in danger."
No. She wasn't. How absurd. "Somebody would have said something to me. My sister... my grandfather."
"I've been shadowing you two weeks, Princess."
Her head snapped back. She stared at him appalled. "Two weeks?"
"Everywhere you've been, I've been."
"The fashion shows?"
"The receptions and cocktail parties."
A world shimmered precariously beyond her reach, a whole world rotating on an axis and she could see it, imagine it. But she wasn't part of it. "The breakfast at the hotel?"
"I know exactly the waiter you were talking about. She was my waiter, too."
Hinata noticed that Naruto had referred to the waiter as she. Naruto understood the waiter's need to be someone else, too. Somehow the thought settled her, calmed her. She focused her thoughts, forced herself to regroup.
"Why do you think I'm in danger?"
But before he could answer there was a loud humming noise and the humming turned into a full roar. The jet that had landed fifteen minutes ago was taking off.
For a long moment she stared at the belly of the white glossy jet, watching the wheels, the tilt of the aircraft's nose.
Then panic hit and she screamed. "No. No. Not without me!" She chased after the plane, running barefoot along the beach, blindly kicking up saltwater and sand.
But the jet kept rising and the wheels folded, disappeared. Tears filled her eyes as the jet sailed off. Away from the island into the endless blue sky.
She dropped to her knees, tears of hurt and rage filling her eyes. She wanted to go home. She needed to go home. She'd never been away from Kaori for more than a week. Seven days. That was her limit. She'd made it clear from the beginning that she'd fulfill her royal duties, but when scheduling her appointments the staff had to accept that no matter the occasion, no matter the reason, she'd never leave her daughter for longer than a week.
She should have been home last night. Which made today day eight.
"My jet will be landing shortly."'
She hadn't heard Naruto approach and she shook her head, hating him. Hating him for keeping her away from her daughter. "I wanted to be on that plane. I wanted to go home. Now. Today." She reached up and wiped away her tears, feeling overwrought. "You have no idea how much I miss Kaori."
Naruto stared down on Hinata's dark hair, the long strands blowing in the gentle breeze. The first clouds were appearing on the horizon. True to the tropics, the wind would pick up, rain clouds would gather, there'd be another spectacular storm later.
She was wrong about one thing, he thought, watching the breeze lift and blow her hair. He understood how much she missed her daughter. He'd lost his wife and child. And he'd never stopped longing to see them, touch them, hold them just once more.
He'd made endless bargains with God, promised his heart, his home, his soul if Chieko and their daughter could be spared.
God, he learned, didn't bargain.
"I miss her." Hinata repeated softly, tipping her head back to watch the jet—now just a speck in the sky—disappear from sight.
"And she'll miss you. But better we keep you safe."
"So when does your plane arrive?" She asked, unable to keep her voice from breaking.
"Soon."
"And your plane will fly me to The Tea Country?"
He was silent a long moment. "We're not going back to The Tea Country."
Hinata was glad she was sitting. Her bones felt dangerously weak. "Not going home?"
He took a step toward her and then another, until his body dwarfed hers, his shadow stretching long, a tower of a man. "Not immediately."
"My daughter's in The Tea Country." Hinata said quietly, firmly, grateful she'd spent years learning the art of camouflage.
"I know. But we're not going there."
"Where are we going then?"
"To the Rock."
"The Rock?"
"My island."
Hinata fought down her anguish. "And Kaori?"
"She'll be safe in The Tea Country with your family.""
Hiro's family. Hinata averted her head, faced the ocean, watched the waves, which were beginning to turn dark green beneath the early-afternoon clouds. A storm was moving in. Again. She suppressed a shiver. She didn't want to be here when the next storm hit. Didn't think she could survive being caught in the middle of another storm with Naruto Uzumaki. He was a storm in and of itself. "My daughter should be with me."
"She will be."
"They won't let her leave the country." She spoke carefully, finding it painful to speak difficult truths out loud. "Part of my... contract... as princess is that I can leave, but Kaori, who shall inherit the throne must stay behind." She felt the lump block and fill her throat, cutting off air, making her head swim. "She's The Tea Country's only heir."
"Then for now she remains with her father's family."
The Uzu's voice sounded flinty, almost indifferent and Hinata bowed her head, hiding her pain. "I need her." She could barely squeeze the words out. It was nearly impossible for her to claim what she needed most. And she needed her daughter.
Her daughter had been everything for her so long... her daughter had been her sole reason for living, breathing, her daughter was life itself.
"You'll be with her again." He crouched in front of her, forced her chin up, stared long and hard into her eyes. "Eventually. Once it's safe. For you and her."
Hinata swallowed around the hot pain filling her. a lance through her heart. "You don't believe she's in danger, do you?"
"No. But you definitely are."
She flinched, but it wasn't his words, which frightened her. It was him. She realized the others were gone. She realized they were alone, truly alone together, and the situation terrified her. Him. Her alone. Him. Her...
"And once we're on your island...?"
"I'll be able to keep you safe my way."
She hesitated, unbalanced. "Your way?"
"My people, my island, my control."
He called this an island? Hinata asked herself, leaning sideways in her seat to see the land loom up below them.
Greek islands were supposed to be beautiful. This was a piece of black rock in the middle of the sea.
Moments later the jet touched down on the shortest runway imaginable, and the moment they deplaned they were traveling in a dark Mercedes convertible with Naruto at the wheel.
Still wearing her stained silk suit. Hinata pressed her hands to the side of her seat, her nerves absolutely shot.
During the flight, they'd had a hot meal and slept, but Naruto had spoken very little.
But now, driving, he glanced at her, and finally she registered on his personal radar screen. "We're almost at the house," he said.
She couldn't imagine how anyone could live on such a barren black rock. "A real house?"
"With indoor plumbing." Rare amusement lurked at the corner of his mouth.
But she wasn't amused. The last thing she felt like doing was laughing.
"So when can I call my daughter?"
The amusement faded from his expression. "You can't."
He couldn't keep her from phoning her own family. He didn't have that kind of power. "You forget. Naruto, you work for me."
"Actually. Princess. I work for the sultan."
She chafed at the way he said, princess, resenting his authority and the mockery she heard in his voice. "He's not going to approve of how you're treating me."
"He knows my methods."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," she flashed, pressing her lists to her thighs, trying desperately hard to hang on to the last scraps of her royal dignity. Somehow he'd managed to strip her of everything else.
"And so do my people," he added, shooting her a warning glance. "Don't think they'll loan you a phone, a boat, or a plane."
"Your people?"
His head, with the thick jet-black hair, inclined. "The Rock is my world. Everything on this island is part of that world, and it's the only world I trust. Those that live here, work here, work for me."
"Are you sure you don't own them?" she flashed, provoked beyond reason, remembering her years in The Tea Country. Hiro had acted like he owned her and she'd hated it.
But Naruto wasn't perturbed. He looked at her, shrugged. "Of course not. They're not objects to possess. But I own their loyalty. They are my people."
She stared at his profile now. Questions racing through her head, making the short drive from airport to house interminable. How did she know she could trust him?
How did she know anything he said was true? It was quite possible he was the threat.
Emotion coiled inside her. Tighter, tighter until she felt like a child's wood top about to spring loose.
What if, just what if, he really hadn't been hired by Ino's sultan? What if he worked for someone else? What if...?
She shot him another suspicious glance, unsettled by the high bridge of his nose, the hard prominent cheekbones. The lines in his face were so dominant, so strong.
She'd never known another man with a face that looked as if it'd been gouged from stone.
"If there's something on your mind." he said flatly, his gaze never leaving the narrow twisting mountain road, "say it."
Say it? She silently wondered, thinking of the past. The problem was she'd spent too many years silent, biting her tongue, holding back her protests. She didn't know how to say what she needed to say. Didn't know the words...
There'd been years and years of being politely ignored. Years where the attention was focused on the man—the male definition of experience. In The Tea Country she'd never been a woman, not a real person, much less a royal princess. She'd simply been a companion. It was as if each tour, each visit, each appearance was strictly for Hiro's benetit. She was only seen when she was at his side.
His side. His pleasure. His interest.
Now and then guides and interpreters would engage her in conversation when she was alone, on her own, waiting. But the moment Hiro appeared, all friendliness vanished. Silence fell. Energy, attention focused exclusively on Hiro.
She'd had no idea how strong her feelings were until she wasn't allowed to express them. Hiro's culture was the culture of men. It wasn't merely arrogant—it was oblivious to the feminine. For most The Tea Country men, a woman was to be seen, not heard, to be beautiful, but pliable, to comply, compromise, acquiesce.
Acquiesce.
She'd spent her life giving herself up. Giving herself out. Giving, giving, would there ever be time for herself? Room for herself? How was a woman supposed to survive in a world like this?
"I can't answer your fears if you don't tell me what's worrying you—"
"I'm not afraid."
"And I can't help you, if you don't tell me what you need," he continued as if she hadn't spoken.
Help her? How could he possibly help her? He was a man. Anger surged through her and balling her hands into lists, she held the fury in.
Suddenly she pictured herself standing on the top of Naruto's mountain and screaming up into the sky, screaming at the stars and the sun and the dawn, screaming at the night. Look at me. See me. I am real, aren't I? I must matter, don't I?
I matter.
I do.
"We're here." Naruto said abruptly, parking in front of a tall whitewashed house, stark, simple. The air caught in her throat. She'd never seen such a severe looking house in her life. How could he live here? The building looked as cold and hard as a hospital.
Or a prison.
Naruto turned off the engine. "Welcome to your new home."
