The King's Bought Bride (Royal House of Leone Book 1)

by Jennifer Lewis

  The sadness in her eyes tugged at his heart. They walked along the beach, swift gusts now whipping at their clothes and a sting of cool rain on the back of their necks. “Your pain will give you perspective in time.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “It’ll make you more compassionate, more understanding when things go wrong for other people.”

  She glanced up at him. “Do things ever go wrong for you, or do you just jet around jumping off mountains, wearing a coronet?”

  He drew in a breath. “That assumption is my biggest hurdle in life. People assume I live to entertain myself and never experience defeat or disappointment or yearning.”

  “Are they right?” She lifted a slim brow.

  He squinted against a gust of sand-laden wind. “I’m smart. I work hard. I do my best to think of others and put their needs first. If no one’s interested in listening to my first-world problem, I suck it up and move on.”

  “I guess a prince would have only first-world problems.” She laughed, shielding her eyes from the sand. “I suppose mine are, too. I bet you’ve never had a broken heart, though.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” The rain picked up, big droplets now hitting them hard. “Let’s run.”

  Back at the house, Serena toweled off her face and hair, surprised at how quickly the weather had turned. “I guess this is the edge of the tropical storm. Are we supposed to put storm shutters up or something?”

  “I don’t know. Let me call Zadir.” A minute later Sandro frowned and looked up from his phone. “I can’t get a signal.”

  “I haven’t been able to get one since I arrived.” She tried again, to no avail. “The coverage is horrible out here and now the Wi-Fi is gone, too. I think the dish isn’t working because of the weather. I’ve been grateful for the solitude so far, but now it’s making me nervous. We’re so close to the beach. Should we be worried about a storm surge? It’s been raining off and on since I got here.”

  “Possibly.” Sandro looked grim. “At least this house has upper floors.”

  “As long as the whole thing doesn’t get washed away.” Her stomach clenched at the thought. Which at least gave her some distraction from the much more disturbing feelings happening just below it—especially when she had the misfortune to look at Sandro.

  How had she let him kiss her? He’d obviously had second thoughts about it pretty fast, getting them up and headed back to the house, but the effect on her had been hot and heavy and intense and almost frightening.

  Overwhelming.

  No doubt it was all on her side, like her feelings for Howard and her foolish assumption—encouraged by the simple but elegant engagement ring he’d given her—that they’d live happily ever after.

  Boy, was she wrong.

  Sandro had moved on and was preheating the oven and rubbing the chicken with butter. The wind had picked up and was whistling through the trees outside, while rain pelted against the large windows.

  She tried to distract herself with peeling the potatoes, which he intended to toss with herbs and roast. “I don’t believe you’ve ever had a broken heart.”

  “Maybe not broken.” He looked up, dark eyes warm. “Perhaps just badly bruised. It was a situation where she meant a lot more to me than I did to her.”

  “Sounds familiar.” Suddenly she felt a little better. “She was your girlfriend?”

  “I thought so. I was young, maybe eighteen, and she was a sophisticated older woman of twenty-five or so.”

  “A cougar.” She smiled, cutting the eyes out of a potato. “I can see you falling for a cougar.”

  “She taught me a lot.” His slightly lifted brow suggested that much of what she’d taught him happened between the sheets. “Which any eighteen-year-old would be grateful for. But I fell hard. She seemed so wise and interesting. She’d traveled a lot by herself, backpacking around Asia and Africa, meeting all kinds of people, and she had such great stories. I envied her freedom and anonymity. Everywhere I go there are paparazzi waiting to catch me doing something stupid.”

  “First-world problems,” she teased.

  “Indeed.” A slow smile crossed his broad mouth. “But it became more of a problem when she wouldn’t be seen in public with me. She didn’t want anyone to know about our affair. She was embarrassed to be involved with a royal.”

  “That’s different. I’d think you’d have more trouble with people wanting to date you because you are royal.”

  “True. She was repulsed by all the wealth and privilege and entitlement. All the stuff that gets other women excited was a turnoff to her.”

  “I’ll give her credit for being original.”

  “Yup. And it made me adore her more. I wanted to spend my life with this woman, sharing adventures at her side, but she only wanted me under the cover of darkness. Eventually she got annoyed with me pushing for more and called me a spoiled princeling. She left for a trip to the Caucuses region and I never saw her again.”

  “She died?”

  “No, she married someone else. A much older man, from Georgia.” Noting her amusement, he added. “The Georgia where people speak Russian.”

  “Oh. But you recovered.”

  “Did I?” He looked wistful, his fingers plunged underneath the skin of the chicken. “I suppose I did, but I’ve never felt the same way about anyone else.”

  “I’m sure you will one day.” Clearly the kiss he’d given her hadn’t distracted him from his long-lost love too much. Still, she was the one who’d asked him about his ex. “I appreciate your sharing. It makes me feel better.”

  “You’re better off without him. He wasn’t right for you.” Sandro basted the outside of the skin and tucked herb leaves into it.

  “So I guess the woman who bruised your heart wasn’t right for you.”

  “Clearly not. And there can’t be much worse than being stuck with the wrong person. I think we should break open your champagne and celebrate our freedom.”

  Her face heated at the realization that he’d found her bottle of champagne in the fridge. What kind of loser brings champagne to a weekend alone? “Why not?”

  He washed his hands, put the chicken in the oven, then uncorked the champagne and poured it into two flutes that they found in a kitchen cabinet.

  He handed one to her. “Here’s to love.”

  Serena blinked. He doesn’t mean between the two of you, dummy. “Of course, to love.” Her voice sounded a little more nervous and forced than she’d hoped. She sipped quickly to cover her embarrassment, and bubbles went up her nose and made her sneeze.

  Lucky thing her skin was dark enough to hide the flush rising up her neck. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? He probably kissed every woman he met. He’d probably forgotten all about that kiss, while the memory of it was growing and blooming in her mind, occupying her thoughts and stimulating her senses.

  This was going to be a very long holiday.

  She attempted another sip and managed not to splutter it out. Her ears pricked up. “There it is again, I swear I hear a dog.”

  “I think there’s another house in that thicket of trees next door. I saw a roof when we were out on the dunes.

  “But is the dog outside in this weather ? That seems dangerous.” The wind whistled audibly in the trees, which creaked and groaned under strong gusts. Her fears compounded when suddenly a huge crash sounded from the living room and the lights went out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “That’s not good.” Her voice sounded thin. It was still daylight, but the sky was black with clouds and the kitchen had only one small window, so they stood in almost darkness.

  She heard Sandro put his glass down on the stone countertop. “It sounded like a window breaking.” He hurried into the living room, where, sure enough, one of the tall French doors was smashed in, bisected by a palm whose wet grayish fronds now rested on the beige rug.

  “Oh, my gosh.” She stared at the tree. “That tree wasn’t even near the house.” The upended roots were out b
y the road, at least fifty feet away across the lawn. Tiny square shards of glass sprinkled down onto the floor from the smashed door.

  “Safety glass.” Sandro picked up a piece. “I wish it was impact glass. That stuff won’t break even under hurricane-force winds.”

  “The opening is compromised. Wind and rain can come into the house, and under the right conditions wind could even rush in and blow the roof off.” She’d seen a documentary about that.

  “We need to board it up.”

  “They might have hurricane shutters or plywood somewhere. It’s a shame we can’t get hold of Zadir.” They both tried calling the management agent she’d rented from, but her phone couldn’t find a signal, and though Sandro managed half a bar standing at the top of the staircase, no one picked up at the other end.

  “I’ll feel bad if Zadir’s house blows down.” Sandro looked annoyingly unworried. A tornado would probably just leave his royal hair looking artfully ruffled. “But I imagine it’s insured.”

  “I’m sure it is, but I have another idea. Is there a control panel of some kind?” She began looking around the front hall and kitchen, opening closets and feeling inside the cabinets. At least she came upon a sleek electrical panel tucked discreetly inside the pantry. “I think that I saw signs of roll-down shutters on the outside of the windows.”

  “Except that now there’s no power to roll them down.” He leaned against the island as if nothing could bother him.

  “Damn, I forgot about that. But didn’t you say there’s a generator?”

  “If there was it should have come on by now. Maybe it’s out of gas.”

  “Or maybe it needs to be switched on manually. Come on, let’s find it.”

  In less than five minutes they’d found a power panel for the generator, and all systems were up and running. But they couldn’t lower the shutters on the broken French window as the tree still penetrated the opening.

  They had to brave the rain and thunder and lightning and haul with all their might before they finally got the treetop out of the window. Rain streamed into Serena’s eyes as she surveyed the scene. “The roots are sticking out into the street. It’s a traffic hazard.”

  “There isn’t any traffic.”

  “Someone might drive by.”

  “We’ll have to turn it.” Sandro hauled the heavy root end while she attempted to lever the frond end around until the tree lay across the increasingly sodden lawn.

  “Do you hear the dog now?” Arms aching, Serena strained to hear through the pelting rain. Thunder rumbled overhead, and lightning illuminated the house as it struck nearby.

  “I think it’s just wind in the chimney. We’d better get back inside.”

  By the time they staggered back in, they were drenched with both rain and perspiration. Serena lowered the electric shutters with a sigh of relief. “We’re lucky to have light. I wonder how long before the gas in the generator runs out.”

  “There’d better be enough in there to cook my chicken.” Rain dripped from Sandro’s chiseled features. “I take my Christmas dinner very seriously.”

  “I’m glad they didn’t have a turkey at the store. At least a chicken doesn’t take that long.”

  “With any luck there’s a huge fuel tank buried underground somewhere.”

  “I don’t usually like to count on luck, but in this case we don’t have much choice.” Serena felt self-conscious in her wet T-shirt. “I’m going to go change.”

  “Wait.” Sandro said the word quickly, his eyes focused on hers. Then they drifted lower, to her mouth. Her lips twitched under his bold stare. Should she really just stand here because he’d commanded her to? How did women usually respond to a royal command?

  Her thoughts scattered as he tugged her close and pressed his lips to hers.

  A shudder roamed through her body, and goose bumps spread down her arms. She’d like to blame the combination of rain and cool air-conditioning for the shiver of excitement coursing through her, but she knew it came from deep inside.

  From Sandro.

  Chemistry flashed between them like the lightning outside. Her fingers, acting of their own accord, pushed into his damp hair, and a moan escaped her mouth as he deepened the kiss.

  When he finally pulled back enough for their lips to part, she was panting slightly, her heart pounding.

  Eyelashes half lowered over desire-darkened eyes, he rested his gaze on her face again. “I think we should go upstairs.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Uh, yes.” She croaked, barely able to make a sound. “I need to change.” Was he suggesting that they climb into bed together?

  Her body responded very enthusiastically to that idea—her fingers itched to peel his wet clothes off his strong body—but her mind screamed at her to be sensible.

  “Me too.” His response came after her thoughts had already run away from her, and she struggled to think what he’d agreed with.

  “Oh.” So he did just want to change. Fine. “Let’s go.” She peeled herself further away from him, straightened her T-shirt—he’d fisted his hands into it—and headed for the stairs.

  Her insides pulsed with arousal, calling to her.

  She tried to settle herself. It wasn’t as if she’d gone years without sex. Or even months.

  Her body didn’t care. Her nipples tingled against her wet bra, and her pants chafed wetly against her trembling legs.

  Sandro must be used to women melting under his gaze and turning into quivering Jell-O of need at his touch. Gorgeous and royal? It was a deadly combination.

  Not that she was usually susceptible to such superficial qualities in a man.

  She was emotional, though, with this whole Christmas-in-hiding thing. Her recent breakup had crushed her confidence and left her worried—would she now be alone forever? Would all her followers decide she was a fraud and desert her?—so maybe she was more vulnerable than usual to the attentions of a practiced player.

  “Good lord.” The gruff voice behind her made her turn as she walked up the stairs. Sandro’s eyes rested on her behind. She blinked. That was crude. She didn’t like that. It wasn’t gentlemanly.

  Still, her body responded with a flush of heat.

  How did he do this to her?

  She could tell he was attracted to her. Very attracted. She could see it in his hot, steady gaze and feel it in his touch.

  But he probably felt the same way about half the women he met.

  Did she want to be another notch in his bedpost?

  Yes, some traitorous part of her body answered swiftly.

  No! She tried to reason. Besides, she’d gone off her contraception so she couldn’t, even if she wanted to.

  Which she didn’t. How would she feel in the morning if she slept with a man she’d just met?

  She headed into her bedroom. Sandro followed. “Uh, what are you doing in here?”

  “I’m here to help you undress.” Mischief danced in his eyes.

  “I can handle that all by myself, thanks.”

  “Wet clothes can be quite difficult to remove.” His dark gaze drifted to her breasts, where her damp T-shirt clung to the outline of her bra. “I’m sure I’ll need some help myself.”

  Her heart beat faster. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “We’re both single, we’re stuck here, there’s an attraction between us strong enough to light something on fire.” A smile tugged at one side of his mouth.

  “But…” This isn’t going anywhere. It would just be a fling. She prided herself on not jumping into pointless dalliances. On saving herself for Mr. Right.

  Except that he’d turned out to be Mr. Wrong.

  The sound of her own voice surprised her. “You do make some good points.”

  He took her in his arms. “I’m smarter than people give me credit for.”

  She giggled as her chest crushed against his. “I might be less smart than people give me credit for. If my readers knew what I was doing right now…” The thought mad
e her stiffen. “I can count on you to be discreet?”

  “Of course.”

  Should she? Temptation clawed at her. Then she heard it again. “The dog. Listen.”

  This time it was unmistakable. A bark, followed by a long howl of desperation.

  “Poor thing. It might be chained outside.”

  Serena pulled from their embrace and hurried to the window. “I can see the house from here.” From the look of its rusting metal roof, it was an older house, wood and rather ramshackle, with a front porch half hidden by a clump of trees. “There it is. It’s chained to a porch column. Oh, my. It’s soaked.” Even from up on the second floor, she could see black and white fur plastered to its skin. “Let’s bring it inside.”

  “Sure.” If Sandro was annoyed by the interruption to their almost tryst, he didn’t betray it. He was out the door and down the stairs before she could gather her thoughts.

  “What if the owner is home?” she wondered aloud as they reached the foyer. “I hope we don’t get shot.”

  Sandro chuckled. “We’ll call out first.”

  They headed out into the blasts of wind and rain. “Ugh, this is nasty.” Rain slapped her in the face, and the gusts were distinctly colder than before. “Oh, no, look at the road.”

  Its bumpy unpaved surface was slick with water—moving water.

  “My God, it’s a river.”

  The water was already creeping up onto the lawn. “Quick, let’s get the dog.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Serena hesitated for a moment. Sensible people didn’t step into floods. This was the kind of thing you saw people doing on the news, then getting swept away in water far deeper than they’d expected.

  Still, the dog couldn’t be more than a hundred feet away. Now that she knew the house was there, she could glimpse it past a thin clump of trees. Sandro was already splashing across the puddle-strewn lawn.

  “There’s a fence.” Sandro climbed over a crumbling picket fence, then helped her over. The property next door was lower, and already water crept over their shoes.