“You can do that?”
“Arranged is different from forced. I accept suggestions but the final choice is mine.”
“And hers.”
“Yes. Hers as well.” He sighed. “Did you always talk this much? I remember more silence.”
“Then you remember wrong. I’ve always—”
He cut her off with a kiss.
The moment his lips brushed hers, she felt her entire body begin to melt. He had been the last man to kiss her, to touch her, to make love with her. She had mourned him, knowing she would never want to give her heart again. Not when having it broken had nearly destroyed her.
Yet here he was, so familiar. In the darkness she could pretend he was Diego once again.
As he pulled her close, she went willingly, finding comfort and need in the familiar strength of his body. His scent aroused her nearly as much as the pressure of his mouth claiming hers.
He still kissed with a combination of imperiousness and passion that left her breathless. The light touch of his tongue on her lower lip had her parting instantly. Wanting had her clinging to him, desperate for more.
He plunged inside her mouth and claimed her. Waves of passion nearly brought her to her knees as she felt the familiar desire and tasted the man she remembered.
His hands were everywhere—down her back, on her arms, at her waist. She couldn’t get close enough. She wanted to crawl inside of him and let the old emotional wounds of missing him finally heal.
“Mia,” he breathed as he kissed her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. “How I have missed you.”
It was too much. The need combined with that voice. The voice that had haunted her dreams for nearly five years.
Diego, she thought. Only not Diego. Rafael.
He raised his head. “So the fire still lives between us,” he murmured. “Tell me you can feel it.”
She drew in a slow breath. “You know I can.”
He dropped his hand to the small of her back and drew her against him. Her belly brushed against his erection.
“This is what you do to me, what you have always done.” He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “My father has been parading all sorts of appropriate young women in front of me for years. Marry this one or the next one, he tells me. But I refuse. I know my duty to my people and yet I can’t deny the hunger of my heart. I need more than an arranged marriage. From that comes only children. My father says to take a mistress along with my wife. But that is not for me.”
He smiled. “Have you missed me?” he asked quietly.
“Every now and then.”
“You tease me.”
“A little. I was devastated when I thought you were dead. I didn’t think I’d make it. Finding out I was pregnant saved me.”
“I only had the memories of our love,” he told her. “You did love me, didn’t you? You said you did.”
“More than I should have.”
He kissed her. “So much lost. So much time wasted.”
She felt as if she’d had too much wine, except she’d only had the one glass at dinner. Still, her head was spinning and she couldn’t seem to think straight.
“What are you saying?” she asked.
“That we have been given a second chance, Mia. I have found you again. We have a son. Daniel will one day be king of Calandria. But to see him grow up as I did—it cannot be. You would change that. You are strong enough to stand against tradition.”
She took a step back. “Danny’s not going to grow up like you.”
“I know. You will not let him. We will not let him.”
Sure, he was Danny’s father, but Mia had trouble thinking of Rafael and her as a “we.”
“It is you. It has always been you,” he told her. He kissed her again, then took her hands in his. “Marry me, Mia. Marry me and be my princess.”
An earthquake would have made sense. Hey, this was California and the earth moved all the time. Locusts might have even been okay because they were in the Bible and she had seen one once in a museum. But a proposal of marriage from Prince Rafael of Calandria? Not in this reality.
“You’re crazy,” she said as she jerked her hands free of his. “Marry you? I don’t know you and you sure as hell don’t know me. Rafael, it’s been three days.”
He laughed. “I know how many hours and minutes. Would you like to hear? I thought you were lost to me and now you are found. I cannot let you go.”
He captured her hands again and kissed her knuckles. It was a pretty smooth move, but then he’d had prince lessons. What other guy stood a chance?
“Don’t say no. Give me time to prove myself. We have another chance, Mia. How many people can say that? I don’t want to lose you again.”
She didn’t know what to say. Marriage? Sure, he was the father of her child, but she’d been thinking along the lines of Danny’s spending a couple of weeks each summer in Calandria.
“I have a life,” she said. “School. Family.”
Instead of responding, he stared into her eyes. She felt his presence as tangibly as if he’d thrown a blanket across her shoulders. There was warmth and protection. And the ever-present need.
She had loved him once, she reminded herself. Or at least the man he’d pretended to be. How much had been about playing Diego and how much had been real?
“Don’t say no,” he murmured. “Give us time. Is that too much to ask?”
It was crazy. Foolish. Impetuous.
It was irresistible.
“I won’t say no, at least not right now,” she told him. “But I don’t want you to mention this to anyone.”
“Of course not.” He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “I will win you back, Mia. You will see. I will be all you have ever desired.”
With anyone else, she would have had her doubts. But Rafael was a different kind of man. In this case, she wasn’t sure she would be willing to bet against him.
6
Mia was up early the next morning. The Grands hadn’t even stirred, which meant it was her job to get the coffee going. After pouring in grounds and water, she flipped the switch, then checked out the plastic-covered cookie sheets sitting in the refrigerator.
“Cinnamon rolls,” she moaned as she hurried to the oven and dialed in the correct temperature. Caffeine and sugar. Was there any better antidote for a sleepless night?
She hovered by the coffeemaker until the hot liquid began to pour into the carafe. When there was enough to fill her mug, she pulled it out and claimed it for herself.
The first sip tasted heavenly. As the warmth slid down her throat and settled in her belly, she felt the first stirring of consciousness. Unfortunately with that came too–clear memories of the previous evening.
Had Rafael really proposed? She told herself he couldn’t have, then took another drink of coffee and realized he had.
Marriage? She wasn’t sure she wanted to get married. Besides, they barely knew each other, and while she had many really fabulous qualities, she doubted she would make much of a princess. She could barely find Calandria on a map.
Marriage? No way. She and Rafael were intelligent adults. They could find a way to share their son without resorting to what would only turn out to be a disaster.
“Good morning.”
She looked up and saw the man in question standing in the doorway. His hair was damp from his shower, his body casually clad in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and his mouth…
Suddenly she couldn’t stop looking at his mouth. Because whatever was the same or different about him, his mouth and his voice were exactly as she remembered.
Then, without meaning to, she suddenly recalled another kind of kiss from him. An intimate one that had her screaming out her release as he licked and—
“Morning,” she managed through suddenly dry lips. She took a gulp of coffee and motioned to the nearly full carafe. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you.”
He poured himself a mug and took a drink. �
�Did you sleep well?”
“Not really.”
“Anything in particular keeping you up?”
“An unnatural concern about interest rates and the latest drought in Africa.”
“Really? I had no idea you were so concerned about current events.”
“Sarcasm, Rafael. That was sarcasm.”
He smiled slightly. “Yes, I know.” He took another drink. “I did not mean to distress you with my proposal.”
“Distress really doesn’t cover it. I was confused—a pretty continuous state of affairs since you showed up in my bed.” She frowned. “You could have just knocked on the front door.”
“Perhaps, but far less interesting an entrance. Besides, I have not missed being at your front door.”
Good one, she thought. The implication being he missed her bed. Or, one dared to assume, her in his bed.
“I, too, did not sleep well. You kept me up, Mia. I could not stop thinking about you.”
“Yes, well, how interesting.” She moved to the far side of the kitchen just as the oven beeped. Damn. Now he stood between her and cinnamon rolls.
He glanced at the appliance. “Are you baking?”
“Grammy M made cinnamon rolls last night. They need to go in the oven. They’re in there.”
She jerked her head toward the refrigerator. He crossed the room and removed them, then slid them into the oven.
“Better?” he asked.
“I will be in about twenty minutes.” She glanced from him to the oven. “You know your way around the kitchen.”
He grinned. “Yes, even I, Prince Rafael of Calandria, can find an oven in a kitchen. If you promise to show the proper amount of awe, I’ll cut up some fruit later.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I tease a little. I might live in a palace, but I do know how to exist in the real world.”
“Unlikely.”
“Why do you doubt me? I was on my own all through university. When I pretended to be Diego, I took care of myself.”
“Barely. You had an entire harem of women. I distinctly remember being stunned by the number of otherwise intelligent women so eager to do the smallest thing for you.”
He moved closer. “You are correct, but the leader of the pack always has his choice of the females. Diego was no exception. But you were not so willing to be my slave. You insisted I serve you.”
“I have a very high IQ,” she said primly. Mostly she’d refused to trail around after him in an effort to stand out. It had worked, although not in the way she’d imagined.
“One of them noticed I had my eye on you,” he said. “She came after you.”
“With a knife.” Mia still remembered her fear and outrage when a tall blonde from northern Italy had called her some very disgusting names and ordered her to leave. Mia hadn’t noticed the knife until she’d already told off the other woman.
“Do you still have a scar?” he asked as he placed his hand on her side.
The warmth of his fingers made it difficult to think, but she managed to nod. “It’s pretty faint but still there.”
“The cut was not deep, but there was much blood. You were very brave.”
She’d been stunned by the swift attack. Rafael—a.k.a. Diego—had reacted with fury. The other woman had been sent away and told she would be killed if she returned. He had then taken Mia to his private rooms and had carefully stitched the cut. That night, he’d claimed her as his own. She still remembered how gentle he’d been, how careful so that she wouldn’t feel any pain from her wound.
She’d already been half in love with him. His tenderness had pushed her over the edge. Afterward she’d been unable to sleep as she’d wrestled with the moral dilemma of her situation. She’d fallen in love with the enemy—a classic, almost clichéd, mistake.
As soon as she’d been able to get away, she’d contacted the agent in charge and explained that she was afraid of compromising the mission. She’d asked to be removed. Instead her boss had told her to suck it up and stay in play.
“There were no other women after you, Mia. Do you remember?”
His words made her more uncomfortable than the memories of her horror at being torn between her mission and the man she loved.
“I remember,” she said softly, not wanting to let him get to her. Not again. Not until she was sure. Which might be never.
But he was telling the truth. From the second the two of them had become lovers, he hadn’t looked at another woman. How long had it taken him to get over her?
He moved to the table and took a seat across from her. “My guilty secret,” he said with a shrug. “I made you promise not to tell.”
“I never knew why it was such a big deal. So you don’t cheat. Most women consider that a good thing.”
“My father has kept mistresses all his life. Usually two or three at a time. They know about each other and on the surface all is well. I was never comfortable with that. I could see the pain in their eyes.”
He looked away, as if embarrassed by the turn in the conversation. That surprised her, and in a good way. She liked knowing that the imperious crown prince had a weakness or two. Twenty would be better but she would take what she could get.
“Tell me about life in the palace,” she said, taking pity on him and changing the subject.
“It is not so different from your world,” he said.
She laughed. “Oh, please. Royalty. It has to be different. Do you have your own wing or county or something?”
“I live elsewhere, in a private house on the edge of the sea. I am close enough to be reached quickly if there is an emergency, but I do not still live at home.”
“I wouldn’t have thought living in the palace would count as living at home.”
“I learned very quickly that it was difficult to take girls to my room when we had to tiptoe past my father’s quarters. At twenty, such things mattered to me.”
“They would matter at any age. Okay, so you get up and one of your several harem women prepares you for your shower.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I do not have harem women.”
“Not a good crop this year?”
“I get myself ready in the morning.”
“What? No servants?”
“A handful. They prepare my breakfast and take care of my clothes.”
“Nice work if you can get it. Then what?”
“Then I drive to the palace for my morning meetings with my father and officials from our government.”
“Do Umberto and Oliver tag along?”
“I have bodyguards in a car following me.”
This was one of the strangest conversations Mia could remember having. To her, none of what Rafael talked about was real, yet every bit of it was his life.
“So what happens after a hard morning of governing the little people?”
“You mock me.”
“It’s something I’m really good at. The reverence thing has always been a problem. Fortunately I don’t run into many people deserving of that kind of attitude.”
He sighed. “You are going to be difficult, but I expected as much.”
“Really?” The thought pleased her.
“Of course. You forget, I know you. You are too smart for your own good and intimidated by no one. A dangerous combination.”
“Ooh, let me guess. For a woman.”
“For anyone. And to answer your question, which you have probably already forgotten, I lunch with different heads of state or visiting dignitaries. Sometimes I meet with officials in parliament. I spend my afternoons with charity work—I deal with three international organizations—or events in the city. Once a week or so there is an official dinner or fund-raiser of some kind.”
“Sounds boring,” she said. “What do you do for fun?”
“Polo, sailing, skiing, mountain climbing. I keep busy.”
Her idea of excitement was a twilight stroll around the vineyards, followed by an extra glass of wine
with dinner. They were practically twins separated at birth.
“I am in the unique position of training for a job that I may not have for years,” he said. “I do not wish my father to die, yet this is the expected way of succession.”
“Would he abdicate?”
“We have talked about it. He does not want me to wait indefinitely.”
“So you would be king sooner rather than later?”
He nodded.
She didn’t like the sound of that. Not with a proposal still hanging between them. Bad enough to be a lousy princess, but it was so much worse to be a horrible queen.
“You would do well,” he said, reading her mind.
“I have many, many doubts. I could put them into categories and have them spiral bound for you, if you’d like.”
“Calandria is a small country. Your duties—”
She cut him off with a strangled cough. “See, that’s the thing. Any sentence that begins with the words your duties isn’t for me. I’m not the duty type.”
“There would be compensations.”
She wasn’t sure if he was going to talk about the wealth and relative power or the thrill of being married to him. Right now she didn’t want to think about either.
“What about Danny?” she asked. “What would his life be like?”
“He would have tutors.”
“Now?”
“Of course. There’s much he has to learn.”
That didn’t sound good. She remembered what Rafael had told her about his years growing up.
“Just so we’re clear,” she said flatly, “he’s not being sent away to some European boarding school. He can go to a regular school with other Calandrian children.”
Rafael stiffened as if she’d slapped him. “My son is the heir to the Calandrian throne.”
“Funny, because my son is just a little boy. Are you saying Calandrian schools are substandard?”
“Of course not. They are the best in Europe.”
“Then think of the money we’ll save. Besides, if Danny is going to grow up to rule the people, doesn’t it make sense that he get to know them from an early age?”
She could feel Rafael winding himself up for some kind of princely tirade, so she quickly asked, “Did you like being sent away when you were all of seven? Didn’t you miss your friends and your family? Do you really want that for Danny?”
The Marcelli Princess Page 8
