by Mindy Neff
If she’d been standing, she might have fallen. Cole Martinez’s words landed like red-hot boulders in her stomach, and it took every ounce of control Chelsa possessed not to charge outside and grab Emily and Sophie, to lock the doors and pull the curtains and simply hide. Her insides quivered so violently, it was a wonder her neck muscles were even capable of holding up her head.
Antonio eased down beside her on the sofa, his arm around her shoulders, lending her much-needed strength.
Cole’s gaze sharpened with speculation, but Chelsa didn’t bother to worry about how cozy she and Prince Antonio might appear. She had much bigger worries.
“He’s here,” she said softly, pleased that her voice only shook a little. “Watching.” Her stomach twisted. In an act that seemed as natural as breathing, she rested her hand on Antonio’s thigh, needing the touch, the reassurance.
“I have men searching the island,” Cole said. “So far, they haven’t turned up anything. And they’re very thorough.”
Most likely he’d meant his last statement as reassurance. Chelsa wondered, however, if there wasn’t a hint of doubt seeping through. And truthfully she couldn’t blame him if maybe a small part of him thought she was overreacting. A tails-up quarter was flimsy evidence at best. “Rick’s sly.”
Cole’s lips twisted, yet in no way resembled a smile. “I’m slyer. I’ll find him.”
So he wasn’t doubting after all. That much was evident in his tone, and it made her feel better. The last thing she wanted was to appear like an overwrought ninny in front of Antonio’s friends.
“What about in the meantime?” Antonio asked.
She felt his warm breath stir the hair at her temple, and knew she shouldn’t be snuggled against his side this way, but she stayed where she was.
“In the meantime, I think it’s best if Chelsa and her children relocate.”
Antonio nodded. “To Valldoria.”
“Yes,” Cole agreed.
Chelsa looked from one man to the other. Were they out of their minds? She was no one to them. They had no obligation to help her. And she definitely didn’t want to be the one to put these royal people in danger.
They’d been lucky so far because San Alegra was fairly remote. Valldoria was another matter entirely. The media would be on Tony the moment he stepped on the soil of his homeland. And anyone who happened to be beside him would be newsworthy, too.
An open invitation for Rick. Like sending a personal invitation via the wire service.
“No.” She shook her head.
“No?” Antonio’s tone suggested he wasn’t used to opposition. “Think, Chelsa. Anyone can slip by on the ferry, or bring their own boat out to the island. At the palace you would be well guarded.”
As much as she might want to turn her life over to his capable hands, she still shook her head. “You’re too newsworthy, Antonio. The minute you return home, the whole world will know about it—including Rick. And if the kids and I are in tow, that not only puts us in danger, it’ll jeopardize you and your family, too.” The thought of bringing danger to the people of the palace—or to Antonio, was intolerable.
And Chelsa knew exactly where that strong feeling came from. Against her better judgment, she’d fallen in love with Prince Antonio Castillo of Valldoria.
One of the things most important to her was protecting those she loved...even if in this case, the love was hopeless.
He wasn’t the staying kind, and she wasn’t cut out to be royalty.
Even if fairy tales did come true, even if he were the type of man who could fall in love with her, she still couldn’t link her life with his. That would be like giving Rick his own personal viewing screen to her life. For as long as she lived, Rick would be able to keep tabs on her and the girls, and Chelsa would never again have a moment’s peace. She’d forever be waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the ghosts of her past to spring up around every corner and shout, “Boo.”
Again she shook her head and whispered, “No.”
Antonio felt an uncontrollable, uncharacteristic urge to shake this delicate woman. To harness his control, he stood and paced instead, nearly running into Raquel as she came back into the bungalow. For no good reason, that set him off, too. Cole had been right. The heiress did not relish being left out of anything remotely resembling cloak-and-dagger stuff.
¡Dios! For a man who prided himself on knowing women, the ones in his life at the moment were running amok, not adhering to any of the characteristics he figured they should. Stubborn. The both of them. Especially Chelsa.
“I might not recognize my title often, but I do hold a certain amount of power,” he said, pinning Chelsa with a look that dared her to contradict him. “I think I’ve got enough clout to control the local media, and I’ve sure as hell got enough smarts to get us to the palace unseen. God knows I’ve slipped in and out often enough without notice.”
The tension in the room became thick enough to cut.
Raquel defused it by sending the girls to search for the cat, then stepped into the middle of the fray.
“I could not help but overhear your objections, Chelsa,” she said. “And as much as I wish I could uphold the sisterhood and side with you, I find I must agree with my husband and Tony. The palace is like a fortress. I should know. For too many years I felt stifled by the watchful eyes of security, until one special security guy came along and taught me that love sets you free—but that it’s still a good idea to lock the doors.”
Cole glanced at his wife with amused indulgence. “She’s right, Chelsa. The palace is the safest place—even if my own wife was too stubborn to listen to my advice at one time.”
“It was not stubbornness, and you know it,” Raquel countered, flicking her hair behind her ear and facing her husband as though girded for a battle.
Chelsa might have smiled at the picture they presented, but her own thoughts and emotions were in too much turmoil. It was so difficult to stand firm when everything within her wanted to cave in.
Oh, she should have never let herself fall in love—as if she could have prevented it in the first place, she thought. If she were the cause of harm to Antonio or his family, she could never live with the pain. It was hard enough as it was, knowing the pain she would experience when he left. And she knew he would leave, because Antonio, by his own admission, was a rolling stone with no intention of settling down. The heartache of losing him to wanderlust could be borne, she assured herself.
The pain of losing him to her ex-husband’s madness could not.
Startled, she sucked in a breath when Antonio stepped in front of her, gripped her arms and brought her to her feet. The intensity in his brown eyes bored into her like a laser. Determination was tempered by tenderness, though she imagined it cost him some effort.
He held her in front of him for several moments, his eyes never wavering. Their knees bumped, and for a wild moment she though he was going to jerk her the rest of the way to him. Her heart skittered strangely and a throbbing ache pulsed through her. A mere inch and their pelvises would be aligned, pressing...arousing.
She blinked. Good night, what in the world was she thinking?
“Antonio—”
“Hush.” His voice was soft and rough edged, and held a command that bespoke his status—even though he denied it half the time. “I am capable of taking care of myself, and my family has an excellent guard to see to their safety. So do not present me with that argument again. If you will not think of yourself, at least think of your children. Can you guarantee their safety?”
She lowered her eyes. Trust him to bring out the big guns. She would do anything, at any cost, to keep her children safe. “No.”
“Our Royal Guard can. I can.” His voice softened, as did his touch. His palms caressed now, rather than held. “Come with me, querida.” His fingertips brushed a curl from her cheek. “I owe you for rescuing me from the surf. You must let me return the favor and see you through your crisis.”
Oh, there was
danger in his touch, in his silky, accented voice, in allowing herself to remain close.
But that danger was only to her heart.
The threat to her life and her children’s lives took precedence.
Although there were no guarantees, he was offering her a safer haven. And for her children’s sake, she had no choice but to accept.
He’d issued his offer as little more than the return of a favor. The type of thing any friend would do for another. Chelsa hoped to heaven she could remember that and not let her heart get carried away.
It’s all a matter of how you play the game, she told herself.
At last she nodded and stepped back, feeling cold without the warmth of his touch. “It won’t take me long to pack.”
Chapter 10
They touched down in the Royal Guard compound and were whisked into Cole’s Lincoln with its blacked-out windows that effectively hid the occupant’s identities.
“I usually land at the airstrip on the palace grounds,” Antonio explained. Sophie was asleep in his lap, her pudgy cheek pressed against his chest, her little lips slightly open. Emily was snuggled in between Chelsa and Raquel, awake and watchful. “Landing at the palace, though, signals the citizens that I am home.”
In other words, Chelsa thought, the cloak-and-dagger they were engaging in was to spirit him and Chelsa into the country before anybody knew. Chelsa appreciated the need for stealth, but it reminded her of what was at stake.
That she was very likely hunted.
A weight of dread settled in her stomach as she gazed out the tinted windows.
The car leaned into a turn and the sight before her nearly took her breath. The palace was like something out of a storybook. The driveway must have been at least a half mile long, flanked by exquisite gardens and a magnificent expanse of verdant lawns.
Antonio had told her the structure alone covered seven acres, but she somehow hadn’t been prepared for the grandeur of it all, hadn’t truly imagined the scope of something that size.
Members of the Royal Guard, looking like life-size toy soldiers in black-and-silver uniforms, stood at attention by the doors and at strategic points around the grounds. Chelsa knew she was gawking, but she couldn’t help it.
Sophie was awake now, and both she and Emily were as transfixed as their mother, their noses practically pressed against the Lincoln’s tinted window.
“Daunting, is it not?” Raquel said with a smile.
“I can’t seem to find the right words.”
“You will get used to it soon enough,” the heiress said.
That was the problem, Chelsa thought. She might get used to it. Dear Lord, had she made the right decision? What about the girls? They’d been uprooted enough lately. Was it fair to allow them to become attached to new people and places, only to tear them away again, to take them back on the run? Because if by some miracle they no longer had to hide, they would eventually have to return to their own home. Leave all this behind.
Leave Antonio behind.
The Lincoln came to a stop and the door opened. Guards formed a stoic aisleway from the car to the front entrance of the palace. Antonio got out, then reached for the girls, lifting them out. Subdued, they each clung to his pants leg, staring in awe at the expressionless guards.
Chelsa gathered up the cat and accepted Antonio’s helping hand. She, too, had the urge to cling to his pant leg—or at least his sleeve. The opulence before her was foreign and totally out of her realm.
A fortress against evil.
An insular world of the privileged. Royalty.
Good night, she felt as though she’d stumbled into the middle of a dream. An elusive dream.
He touched her cheek. “You will be safe here, querida. Trust me.”
She nodded and settled the cat into Sophie’s outstretched arms. Emily looked a little put out that her sister had beat her out of the honor of carrying Señor Gatito, but kept silent, knowing Chelsa’s rule over whoever asked first got their wish, provided they were good about taking turns. Thankfully the cat had traveled amazingly well. Leaving in such a hurry, there’d been no time to search for a pet carrier.
Flanked by Cole and Raquel, Antonio ushered them up the palace steps. The massive oak doors opened into a vast sea of marble, and Chelsa suffered an attack of vanity. Her hair was a mess. With its tendency to frizz, she probably looked like a wild woman. The sea air in San Alegra and the whip of the helicopter rotors had surely added to her disarray.
And when she caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman walking toward them, looking elegant in a buttercup-yellow summer suit, she decided right then that her own twenty-dollar sundress wasn’t proper attire.
Especially in the company of a queen!
But thoughts of fashion and protocol and pity parties vanished the instant the excited yap of a dog intruded. The puppy of questionable lineage darted past a man who looked enough like Antonio to be his twin. Prince Joseph, Chelsa realized.
The little dog lost traction against the glassy floor and skidded against the wall, then took off like a shot in the other direction.
Impressions surfaced all at once, too quickly to grab a single one. Señor Gatito, startled by the dog, yowled and leapt from Sophie’s arms.
“No, kitty!” Sophie shrieked.
“Sophie!” Emily wailed, automatically assigning blame.
Chelsa didn’t have time to referee. Like a scene out of a Keystone Kops comedy, a flurry of voices and activity erupted. Paws clattered and slipped across marble, and a spindly hall table nearly toppled. Dear God, that piece of furniture was probably centuries old! Someone with quick hands grabbed a leaded crystal vase filled with fresh flowers before it tipped. A granite carved statue teetered.
Chelsa might have laughed at the scene if she wasn’t so horrified. The hall filled with what looked like the entire royal family, and people were darting to and fro after the animals. Antonio led the pack, looking entirely too gleeful under the circumstances, and Emily and Sophie were hot on his heels, squealing—and running!
Stunned, mortified, Chelsa had trouble finding her voice.
Thankfully the paralysis didn’t last more than a beat. “Girls!”
They halted as though they’d smacked into an invisible force field, each looking guiltily over their shoulders.
Even the animals paused.
Antonio snagged the cat. Cole got the mutt.
Princess Briana, holding an infant swaddled in a powder-blue blanket, let out a burst of unrestrained laughter, the exuberant sound echoing off the walls. Her husband, Prince Joseph, stood by, his amused eyes filled with so much love as he gazed at his princess, it almost to hurt to watch.
With the cat under one arm, Antonio grinned, pushed a sexy lock of dark hair out of his eyes and looked at Chelsa.
“Nothing like a mad chase to get the adrenaline pumping.” Pointing like a bouncy ball following song lyrics, he said, “Chelsa, meet the family—Joseph, Briana, baby Prince Joseph Lorenzo II and my mother, Isabel. Everybody, this is Chelsa, Emily, Sophie and—” he lifted the cat “—Señor Gatito.”
The queen gave a delicate sigh. Tall and regal, with her midnight hair swept into a chic coronet, she stepped forward and extended a hand in greeting.
“My youngest son delights in flaunting convention. Honestly, he was educated by the best in manners—even though it does not show. Welcome to our home. I apologize that my husband is tied up at the moment, but you will meet him when we dine.”
Chelsa wasn’t sure if she should curtsy or kiss the queen’s hand. In the end, she simply shook it politely, still embarrassed over the chaos her arrival had caused.
“I apologize for dropping in on you this way...and for the cat’s grand entrance.” Dear Lord, not only was her presence putting these royals in danger, now her kids and their adopted pet had likely ruined some priceless treasure. “I’ll pay for any damage—”
“Nonsense,” Isabel interrupted. “No harm has been done. And we do not worry about b
reakage here in the palace, so you must be at ease with your children. Things are made to be touched. How else can one learn and admire? You are welcome here, Chelsa Lawrence.” She glanced down at the girls. “As are your precious niñas and their pet. As it is, Bri’s pup could use a little competition. We have spoiled him terribly. Perhaps another animal will show him he is not king of the palace after all—which will make my husband, Marcos, quite happy.”
“Mother, please,” Joseph said. “Irish is sensitive. You mustn’t demote him so openly.”
“Irish?” Chelsa questioned before she could stop herself. Well honestly, the dog was a mutt, with a black ring around one eye and white hair that looked permanently mud stained. A pink tongue lolled out of one side of his mouth in what looked suspiciously like a canine grin. There wasn’t a single feature on this mischievous puppy that appeared remotely royal.
“Briana found him in Ireland on our travels last month.”
When Joseph spoke, Sophie turned solemn eyes up to him. “You don’t look like you used to be a frog.”
Chelsa sucked in a breath. Good night, would there be no end to her mortification?
Joseph’s brows slammed down and Briana laughed, the sound once again bouncing off the cavernous walls, touching everyone in the vast grand hall.
“Criminy, Joseph,” Briana said. “Don’t look at the child like that, you’ll scare her to death.”
Joseph’s expression softened into a look of love so bright, it blinded. It was as though the very walls themselves sighed.
Chelsa wondered what it would be like to have someone look at her that way.
She glanced up and saw Antonio watching her. Her heart skittered in her chest. If she went in for fanciful thinking, she might imagine that the soft look he gave her held something more...deeper emotions perhaps.
But that couldn’t be. He wasn’t the commitment kind.
Joseph knelt before Sophie and tweaked her curly hair. “My apologies, little one. You took me off guard. Do you find my looks appropriate?”
“What’s ’propriate?”
