Claiming His Royal Heir

by Jennifer Lewis

  “No wonder you look so good.” Her body was delicious. Fit without being too slim, with high, plump breasts that beckoned his palms to cup them.

  Lucky thing his palms were wrapped around suitcase handles. “I bought some bags for the trip and printed copies of your eTickets. I’ll come by to pick you up when we leave for the airport.”

  Stella’s pink mouth formed a round O.

  “You did say you could leave anytime after Wednesday, so I booked us on a flight for Thursday. Plenty of time to pack.”

  “Did you book the return trip?” Her voice sounded a bit strained.

  “Not yet, since we don’t know how long you’ll be staying.” He smiled, in a way that he hoped was reassuring. He did not intend for them to come back, but it was far too early for her to know that. “Where shall I put these?”

  Her eyes widened further at the sight of the luggage in his hands. “I didn’t know Coach made suitcases.”

  “They’re good quality.” He decided to walk in and put them down. Maybe she was a little flustered by her Pilates workout. “Where’s Nicky?”

  “Napping.”

  “He naps a lot.”

  “They do at this age, which is a blessing since it’s the only way I can do anything for myself. I can’t take my eyes off him for an instant lately before he’s climbing onto the back of the sofa or tugging on the lamp cords.”

  “In Montmajor you’ll have plenty of time to yourself. All the ladies in the palace are fighting with each other for the chance to take care of him.”

  “Ladies?” Her face paled.

  “Older ladies with gray hair.” He fought the urge to chuckle. Had she seen them as competition? “They won’t try to take him away from you, just to squeeze his cheeks a lot and cluck over him.”

  She blew out a breath. “It’s a lot to take in. Nicky has the advantage of being too young to worry about everything.”

  He wanted to take her in his arms and give her a reassuring hug, but right now he could see that would be anything but reassuring. Her whole body stiffened up whenever he came within about five feet of her.

  There’d be plenty of time for caressing and soothing once they arrived in Montmajor. “Don’t you worry about anything. I’ll take great care of both of you.”

  Four

  The journey to Montmajor was an adventure in itself. Naturally everyone assumed they were a family. Stella was called Mrs. Montoya twice at the airport, even though her ticket and passport were in her own name.

  Vasco carried Nicky at every opportunity, and the little boy looked quite at home in his strong arms. Vasco himself beamed with paternal pride, and handled each situation from Stella’s overweight luggage to Nicky running around the airport—he’d started walking that Monday, and quickly progressed to sprinting—with good humor and tireless charm.

  And then there were the stares.

  Every woman in the airport, from the headphone-wearing teenagers to the elderly bathroom attendants, stared at Vasco wherever he went. His easy swagger and piratical good looks drew female attention like a beacon. He wore a long, dark raincoat—it was pouring when they left—and army green pants with black boots, so no one would have guessed he was a king. His passport was black and larger than hers, bearing an elaborate seal, and she wondered if all his royal titles were listed inside.

  He still had to go through security like everyone else, but he’d bought them some kind of VIP tickets that entitled them to fly past most of the lines and get right onto the plane with almost no waiting.

  Stella tried to ignore the envious looks. She certainly didn’t feel smug about strolling around with Vasco. Probably none of these people would covet the situation she was in, her future uncertain and her son’s affections at stake.

  The long plane ride passed quickly. Nicky sat between them in the wide first-class seats, and they were both so busy keeping him entertained, or being agonizingly quiet while he napped, that she didn’t have to worry about keeping a conversation going.

  A small private plane met them at Barcelona Airport for the rest of the journey to Montmajor, whose airport wasn’t large enough for commercial jets.

  Suddenly things felt different. Men in black jackets with walkie-talkies swept them onto the plane, bowing to Vasco and generally treating him like a monarch. The inside of the plane was arranged like a lounge, with plush purple leather seats and a well-stocked bar. Except for takeoff and landing, Nicky was allowed the run of the plane, and two stern male attendants indulged his every whim. Vasco smiled and watched.

  Stella felt herself shrinking into the background. They were now in Vasco’s world and she wasn’t at all sure of her place there.

  Once they’d landed, a black limo drove them from the airport through some hilly countryside, then up toward an imposing sandstone castle with a wide, arched entrance. Inside the arch, the castle spread out around them, long galleries of carved stone columns lining a paved courtyard.

  People rushed out from all directions to greet them. Vasco put his arm around her and introduced her—in Catalan she presumed, since it sounded somewhere between Spanish and French—with a proprietary air that made her stomach flip.

  Did he want people to think they were a couple? His arm around her shoulders set alarm bells ringing all over her body. She gripped Nicky’s hand with force. She hadn’t got used to him toddling beside her rather than traveling in her arms.

  “Stella, this is my aunt Frida, my aunt Mari and my aunt Lilli.” Three women, all dressed in black and too old to be literally his aunts, nodded and smiled and gazed longingly at Nicky. She’d presumed that his father was dead, or he wouldn’t be king, but it hadn’t occurred to her to ask about his mother or any siblings. How blindly she’d walked into this whole thing.

  “Nice to meet you,” she stammered. They didn’t extend their hands to shake, which was lucky as she didn’t want to let go of Nicky. He seemed the safest anchor in this strange, foreign world. Vasco’s arm still rested on her neck, his fingers curling gently around her shoulder.

  “I’ll take Stella inside and show her around.” He squeezed her shoulder with his fingers, which made her eyes widen, then ushered her up a wide flight of stairs and through a double door into a large foyer. A vast woven tapestry covered one stone wall—a hunting scene, lavishly decorated with foliage and flowers. Vasco walked toward a curving flight of stone stairs with a carved balustrade. “And on the way we’ll pass by the library, which I suspect is far more interesting to you than your bedroom.”

  Another squeeze made her heart beat faster. He seemed to be giving the false impression that they were involved. Her face heated and she wondered how she could pull away without seeming rude. Anger rose inside her alongside the heat Vasco seemed to generate whenever he came near her. It wasn’t fair of him to toy with her like this. She bent down, pretending to adjust Nicky’s dungarees, and managed to slip from his grasp.

  Vasco simply strode ahead, pointing out what lay behind each carved doorway. An attendant had taken his raincoat so she had an annoying view of his tight rear end as he marched along the hallway. She tugged her eyes to the timeworn stone carvings that lined the walls.

  Nicky pulled his grip from hers and ran forward, toward Vasco. A shriek of glee bounced off the ancient stone and echoed around them. Vasco turned to her with a grin on his face. “Just what this old place needs—some youthful enthusiasm.” She couldn’t help smiling.

  The library was every bit as awe-inspiring as she could have dreamed. Two stories of volumes lined its walls and the long oak table in the center of the room was scarred by centuries of scholars and their ink. Nicky ran up to an ancient chair and she dashed to scoop him up before he could pull it over on himself. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what treasures must lurk on those high shelves, accessed by rolling ladders. The one tall window was shaded, probably to protect the books from sun, so the room had a mystical gloom that fueled her excitement.

  Nicky yawned and fidgeted, and for a second she
felt guilty about wanting to be alone with all those magnificent books. “He needs a nap.”

  “Or a good run.” Vasco took Nicky’s other hand. “Come on, Nicky!” He took off toward the door, with Nicky running beside him. Stella stood staring after her son for a moment, then hurried after them, torn between her pleasure at watching Nicky so secure on his tiny feet, and fearing that the pace of everything, including her son’s development, was happening way too fast for her to keep up.

  With Nicky tucked up in bed, under the watchful eye of one of the “aunts,” Stella joined Vasco in the grand dining room for supper. The majestic surroundings demanded elegant attire, and in anticipation she’d made sure to bring several dresses with her. Karen was a talented thrift shop hunter and had scored four lovely vintage dresses for her at her favorite shop in an expensive neighborhood, each from a different era. Tonight she wore a rather fitted 1950s dress in steel-gray silk. Its perfect condition suggested that it had never been worn, and the crisp fabric hugged her body like reassuring armor. Karen loved to choose matching accessories, so tiny clusters of 1950s paste diamonds ornamented her ears. She had one pair of shoes for all her ensembles, gunmetal silver with pointed toes and medium heels. She tucked her hair into a 1950s-style chignon and felt—if not as glamorous as the type of women Vasco was used to—pretty elegant and well put together.

  Vasco rose from the table as she descended a small flight of stairs into the dining room. His gray eyes swept her from head to toe, and darkened with appreciation. He walked toward her, took her hand and kissed it.

  “You look stunning.” Throaty and sincere, his words made her blink.

  Luckily the stiff peaks of silk hid the way her nipples tightened under his admiring gaze. “Thanks. Jeans and a T-shirt didn’t feel right for dinner in such a dramatic environment.”

  Vasco himself wore tailored black pants and a fine-striped shirt, open at the collar. Considerably more formal than his clothes in the U.S. “I’m not sure it matters what you wear here. The palace drapes around one like a velvet robe.” His white teeth flashed a grin. “But you make everything around you vanish.”

  Her hand tingled where his lips had touched it. Normally this kind of flattery would make her roll her eyes, but from Vasco’s lips it sounded oddly sincere. He pulled out a carved chair and she sat in it. The table was elaborately set for the two of them. Glass goblets glittered with both red and white wine, and the silver cutlery shone from recent polishing. As soon as Vasco was seated, two waiters appeared carrying an array of dishes, which they offered to her one by one, spooning their contents onto her plate when she agreed.

  She didn’t understand the words they’d said but the aromas spoke for themselves. Crispy-skinned game hen, fragrant rice with snippets of fresh herbs and a rich ratatouille. Her mouth watered.

  “It’s good to be home.” Vasco smiled at the feast. “I miss the cooking almost more than anything when I’m gone.”

  “How long were you gone? When you were younger, I mean.” She wanted to know more about his past, and the circumstances that had conspired to bring them together.

  “Almost ten years.” He took a swig of red wine. “I left when I was eighteen and I didn’t plan to ever come back.”

  “Why not?” He seemed so deeply rooted in the place.

  “There’s only room for one male heir in Montmajor. He inherits the palace, the crown, the country and everything in it. Any other male heirs must set forth to seek their fortune elsewhere. It’s a thousand-year-old tradition.”

  “But why?”

  “To avoid conflict and struggles for the throne. One of my ancestors made it a law after he seized the throne from his own older brother. On his eighteenth birthday the younger son must leave the country with a thousand Quirils in his pocket. It’s been enforced rigidly ever since.”

  “So they literally drove you out of the country on your eighteenth birthday.”

  “No one had to drive me. I knew to make myself scarce.”

  Stella tried not to shiver. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like growing up knowing you’d be banished one day. “And I bet one thousand Quirils doesn’t go as far as it did a thousand years ago.”

  Vasco laughed. “Nope. Then it was the equivalent of a couple of million dollars. Now it’s about seventy-five.”

  “What did your parents think of all this?”

  He shrugged. “It’s the law.” The candlelight emphasized the strong planes of his face. “I suppose I thought they wouldn’t enforce it. What boy thinks his own parents plan to send him away? But when the time drew near…and there was my brother.” Vasco’s brow lowered and his whole expression seemed to darken.

  Stella gulped down a morsel of tender meat. She had the feeling she’d hit on a very sensitive topic. “I assume your brother is dead.” She said it as quietly as possible. “Which is why you came home.”

  “Yes. He killed himself and both my parents in a car accident. Drunk at the time, as usual.” He growled the words. “And it’s over all of their dead bodies that I’m back here.” His eyes flashed, and he took another swig of wine. “Lovely story, isn’t it?”

  She drew in a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

  “That was nine months ago, when my father’s oldest friend called me up and told me to return.” He raised a brow. “I flew back the following day for the first time in ten years.”

  Something in his expression touched her. He looked wistful. “You must have missed Montmajor while you were away.”

  “Like a missing part of me.” His gray eyes were serious. “I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”

  “The laws demanded that you never even visit?”

  He nodded. “In case I was tempted to lead a coup.” His eyes sparkled with humor. “Paranoid country, huh?”

  “Very.” Stella swallowed some wine. Was Nicky heir to the throne here? The question seemed far too huge to just say out loud. “Do you plan to change the law, so that if you have several children the younger ones don’t have to be turfed out at age 18?”

  “Already did it.” He grinned. “My first edict when I came back. People were really happy about it. That and I made it legal to have sex outside marriage.”

  Stella laughed. “I bet that law was broken a lot anyway.”

  “I know it. Sounded pretty funny when the official speaker pronounced it from the castle walls. Maybe that’s why no one ever had the nerve to change it before.”

  “So I guess you’re not under pressure to marry anyone in order to enjoy life.”

  “That’s a fact.” He smiled and lifted his glass. “Marriage and the Montoya men generally don’t agree with each other.”

  Stella lifted her glass, but wondered what he meant. Did he not intend to marry? If Nicky was his heir he didn’t need to. The next in line was already born and he hadn’t had to break any ancient laws, either. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”

  Vasco’s eyes darkened. “Or maybe I have?”

  His suggestive tone sent a ripple of awareness to her core, and she shifted slightly in her fitted dress. “There must be a lot of women who’d be happy to be your queen.”

  “Oh yes. They’ve been coming out of the woodwork from all over.” His dimples showed. “A crown has amazing aphrodisiac effects.”

  Not that he needed them. With those looks he wasn’t in much danger of being lonely. But could he marry some glamorous woman and expect that she’d put up with his sperm bank son becoming king?

  Frightening as it was, she needed a clearer picture of what he had in mind. “What are you hoping for, with Nicky? He’s not really next in line to the throne, is he?” The whole thing sounded so ridiculous that she blushed when she said it. Maybe a lot of moms would love their child to carry a scepter, but she wasn’t one of them.

  “Right now he is. He’s my only heir.” Vasco frowned. “However, if I were to marry someone, the first son I had with her would become heir. Children born in marriage take precedence over illegi
timate heirs.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair.” Indignation flared in her chest, which was insane, considering that she didn’t want Nicky to be king. Still, it implied that somehow he was less important, and maybe that tugged at her sense of guilt over choosing to bring him into the world in a nontraditional family.

  “You’re right. It’s not. I could change the law but it doesn’t seem to be an urgent problem right now.”

  “Not like the need to have unmarried sex.”

  “Exactly.” His eyes twinkled. “First things first.”

  Heat sizzled inside her and she wished his seductive gaze didn’t have such a dramatic effect. She had no intention of having any kind of sex with him. She’d managed without sex for more than two years since she broke up with Trevor, and hadn’t missed it at all. Of course being woken up several times a night by a baby could put a damper on anyone’s libido. Maybe now that she was getting sleep again it had come back?

  Not a very convenient time for lust to reappear in her life. She tugged her gaze to her plate and pushed some rice onto her fork.

  “How did you get into restoring books?”

  The innocuous question surprised her. What a change of subject. “It happened by accident. My mom had an old edition of Alice in Wonderland that had belonged to her great-grandmother, and she gave it to me when I was in college. The spine was starting to come apart so I asked for advice at a local bookseller, who told me about a course in book restoring—and I got hooked. There’s something addictive about restoring someone’s treasure so it can be enjoyed by another generation of readers.”

  “An appreciation for the past is one thing that links us. My ancestors have lived here for more than a millennium and I grew up walking in their footsteps, using their furnishings and reading their books.” He gestured at the long wood table, its surface polished to a sheen but scarred with tiny nicks by generations of diners.

  “It must be nice to have such a sense of belonging.”

  “It is, until you’re turned out of the place where you belong.” He lifted a brow. “Then you search and search for somewhere else to belong.”