by A. C. Arthur
“Are they reporting on what Sam does? Who she sees? How long she stays out?”
“Sam isn’t playing poker with people who do business within our country. And she’s not at the museum telling tourists that there may be buried treasure in the castle.”
So he knew that Roland had gone to the museum, as well. Roland wondered when, or if, Kris was going to ask the million-dollar question.
“Sam is living her life. She married the man of her dreams. She’s continuing her work with the children here, and now in the United States, which will soon be her second home. Everything she does is rooted in who she is and what she’s always wanted to become. Me, I’m doing the same thing.”
Kris shook his head.
“You’re stalling,” Kris told him. “That’s what you’ve always done. But one of these days, Ro, you’re going to have to grow up. When you do, you’ll have to decide who the adult Roland DeSaunters is going to be. A professional poker player? A womanizer? Whatever it is, you’ll have to decide for yourself and stand by it. Are you ready to do that?”
“I don’t have to answer that,” Roland countered.
He was slowly becoming agitated. He did not like that feeling, so he stood. Moving cleared his mind. It reminded him that not only was he alive, but that he was in control. He could decide where he went, what he did, how he did it. Everything was his decision and no one else’s.
Kris stood as well. “You’re right, Ro. You don’t have to answer to me. Or to Dad or to any one of those reporters that love to write stories about you and your frequent escapades. There’s only one person you’ll ever have to answer to, and that’s yourself. Just make sure that when you do, you can be honest about everything you’re doing. Everything you’re saying or promising.”
Roland stared at his brother and waited, because he knew it was coming.
“I was never engaged to marry Valora Harrington,” Kris said. “We both know that. She knows that. Her father believes differently. And you kissing her on the side of the road will only confuse matters for her and for the people of Grand Serenity.”
“I’m an adult and so is she,” Roland instantly countered. “It’s nobody’s business what we do or where we do it. Nobody’s!”
Kris shook his head. “You’re wrong about that, Ro. Because, whether you like it or not, you’re a prince. That’s not just a title, it’s a responsibility. Even for the Reckless Royal.”
Roland turned away then because he wanted to curse. He actually wanted to throw something. But not at Kris. He knew his brother was just doing his job. As always. He had to come and say something to his younger brother. He had to correct the wrongs before they could affect the country. Roland knew that. He hated it, but he knew it.
“She’s been through enough, man. Just leave her alone. We’ve got enough going on to keep us occupied. Don’t start unnecessary rumors or make her another notch in your belt. It’s not fair to her. None of this has ever been fair to her.”
Roland didn’t move, not even when he heard his front door open and close. He stood there staring out at his mountain, wondering how soon he could be packed and get off this island.
Chapter 5
“What’s this?”
“It’s a picnic basket,” he replied.
“I mean, what’s it for?”
He tilted his head and grinned. “To have a picnic. And if you’re going to ask what a picnic is, I’ll save you the trouble. It’s when you put a blanket on the ground, sit down and eat. Usually requires nice weather, which we have on this balmy Tuesday.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but Roland continued.
“You probably want to know what’s in the basket. Well, I believe Chef Murray said something about spicy tuna, lime onion rings and a crabmeat salad with her very special creamy ginger dressing. And I must admit I requested my favorite dessert of all time, rice pudding. You’ll love it! She puts fresh cinnamon sticks into each cup.”
The last was said as he tapped the large brown wicker basket taking up most of his backseat. Val had finished work a little earlier today than usual. She’d come out of the museum and had been heading down the street to where she’d parked her car when she saw Roland looking like a model out of a magazine as he casually leaned against that flashy sports car.
He wore beige linen slacks with a matching short-sleeved shirt. His skin looked golden or sun kissed or whatever that delectable shade was called. The leather tie-ups he wore were only a shade or so darker than his clothes, his ankles crossed as he leaned against the sleek silver car. His goatee was close and neatly trimmed along his strong jaw. The silver watch he wore sparkled in the sunlight. If she could have—and if she were still a teenager—Val might have snapped his picture with her phone and used it as her screen saver.
The thought made her dizzy and disgusted at the same time. She was not drooling over this guy. Of all the men in the world, not this one.
It was almost six in the evening, and while the sun was still shining, it would be setting soon. People still moved about the street. Tourists headed to some of the souvenir shops up and down the corridor, and some waited at the trolley stop on the corner. Cars drove down the cobblestone path, some slowing to look at Prince Roland’s car. One even stopped and a man hung out his window to take a picture.
It was at that moment that Val realized Roland was waiting for her to respond as she stood there staring around like some lost schoolgirl.
“I have a pot of soup at home,” she blurted out.
He grinned. “So you’d rather have soup than tuna and rice pudding?” Before she could answer, he shook his head. “Even if you say so, I won’t believe it.”
Val didn’t believe herself either, so she didn’t bother to say it. “You don’t have to do this. I told my father not to spread any rumors about us and he agreed that it would be foolish. So we’re okay, there’s no need for you to feel like you have to make sure he’s not going to go to the press or make any other false claims against you or the royal family.”
Roland pushed away from the car and moved until he stood directly in front of her. Val, standing at five feet nine inches, tilted her head back slightly to look into his eyes. They were nice deep-brown eyes with thick lashes and eyebrows, but she insisted to herself she wasn’t paying attention to any of that.
“I could have sworn I explained this to you the other night, but I’ll say it again, just so we’re officially on the same page,” he began. “Your father and I have already spoken. That poker game, him losing to me and how we plan to work that out, is between me and Hugo. You have nothing to do with any of that.”
“He’s my father,” she insisted.
Roland shook his head again. “We have no control over that. It just is. And the food that I had to do a lot of maneuvering to get into the backseat of this car will go to waste if you do not climb in and have this picnic with me.”
“You could eat the food yourself or donate it to the children’s mission,” she countered.
“I could,” he agreed. “Or I can have a lovely evening meal with a nice woman who I’m sure isn’t just trying to get her picture taken with me.”
He raised his brows while looking back at her, as if he were asking, “Got any other excuses?” Of course, those words never fell from his lips—medium-thick lips that she recalled kissing all too well.
“The last time we shared a meal together it rained,” she replied.
“I already checked the forecast. Tonight will be clear,” he said. Then, before she could think of another response, Roland grabbed her hand.
He tugged her gently toward the car before saying, “Come on, it’s just a blanket and food. Nothing more. Nothing less. What’s the worst that could happen?”
* * *
This wasn’t the worst circumstance, Val thought. In fact, it was the b
est picnic she’d ever been invited to, and she had yet to taste any of the food.
She should have known it wouldn’t just be a blanket and food. He was royalty, after all. Still, the effort and thought that she presumed had gone into this setup was reason enough for her to relax and enjoy.
There was a wood canopy—like maybe some of the palace staff had been out there all day building the dwelling just for them. Sheer white curtains hung along three sides, blowing slowly in the breeze. Through the open fourth side she could see a fluffy white blanket had been spread over the sandy ground area. On that blanket, six large white pillows were lined up along the back. On one side was a huge silver ice bucket with two bottles sticking out of it. Wicker serving trays held martini glasses that had already been filled with strawberries and blueberries. In the center was a crystal bowl containing more fruit, and arranged in a lovely tropical design. This all meant there had to definitely be someone else there besides them. She looked around, but did not see anyone. They were most likely paid well to be discreet—out of sight and out of mind. She sighed and looked into the distance toward the crystalline water that rolled onto the sandy shore while the bluest sky provided a perfect backdrop.
“Have a seat,” he said as he came up behind her and moved around so that he could set the basket on the blanket.
The white looked so pristine, the scene so serene and perfect and...romantic. She hesitated, but only for a moment. Even though doubts swirled in her mind, the last thing she wanted the prince to think was that she was indecisive or immature. Val took a step and then looked down at the black boat shoes she always wore to work. Hurriedly toeing them off, she stepped first one and then the other bare foot onto the softest cotton she thought she’d ever felt in her life.
When she finally sat, it was with her back to the pillows and the water. She crossed her legs beneath her and watched as Roland also removed his shoes and moved across the blanket. He sat beside her, pulling the basket close enough so that he could reach into it without getting up.
“Here are two glasses. You can pour whichever wine you prefer and I’ll fix our plates,” he said.
Roland handed her the glasses without even checking to see if she planned to do as he asked. He was used to that, she surmised. People just jumped to do what the prince wanted. Women would do somersaults to impress him, to be sitting beside him on this beautiful day about to share a meal. Val knew that all too well. She knew precisely what it was like to dream of this moment with a prince, or rather, with her very own knight in shining armor.
Only this wasn’t the man she’d dreamed of, or at least, she didn’t believe it was. The man in her dreams, the one who came and swept her away from everything that had ever caused her pain or strife, had always been faceless in her slumber. To Val, that made the dream so much more romantic and possibly attainable. But, today, she thought the dream might have been nicer if the face she saw just before she awakened was Roland’s.
Clearing her throat and hopefully her delusional thoughts, Val did as Roland had instructed. She selected the white wine that she knew was from the vineyards owned by a member of Princess Vivienne’s family in the United States. As a show of support, every restaurant and bar on Grand Serenity served this brand. It was a little expensive, so Val only consumed it on special occasions. Her father refused to drink it at all.
“This is yours,” he said, handing her a real china plate of food. “Wasn’t sure how much you wanted, but we have plenty if you want seconds.”
Roland continued to fix his own plate, one filled with a good deal more food than he’d put on hers, and then he settled back to lift his glass. Turning to her, he said, “Let’s toast to picnics and sea air.”
He looked fantastic sitting there with a glass in one hand, his plate in the other, the sheer curtain billowing behind him and the rolling sea in the distance beyond. He could be on a postcard inviting all to visit Grand Serenity Island. If he were, Val figured tourism would increase by no less than eighty percent. That is, if someone actually ran with the postcard idea. She, for one, knew she’d visit if this guy were inviting her to a Caribbean island.
With a slight shake of her head, she lifted her glass and moved it until it clinked lightly with his. “To picnics, sea air and strange days.”
“Strange days, indeed,” Roland said quietly after he sipped from his glass and set it on one of the serving trays in front of them.
It occurred to her then that maybe this picnic wasn’t about her or her father at all. Roland had already begun eating, so Val joined in. What she did not do was say anything to him. Even though there were several questions rolling through her mind at the moment.
“This crab salad is wonderful,” she remarked minutes later, when the silence begin to border on frustration.
“Ms. Murray’s been cooking for our family for as long as I can remember,” he said, having long finished the heaping portion of salad he’d put on his own plate. “I guess she must have been in her teens when I was a youngster because she only looks to be about twenty-nine today.”
Val smiled. “I’m sure she loves hearing you say that.”
He shrugged. “I can’t help if it’s the truth.”
Val was sure that Ms. Murray would believe any compliment coming from Roland, with his charismatic smile and undeniable charm, as the truth. Any woman would believe anything he said, whenever he said it. She wondered how it felt to have that type of power.
“You want to hear something else that’s the truth?” she asked, without considering whether or not she should.
Roland immediately turned to look at her. “Yes, that would be refreshing.”
“Why?” she asked yet another question, but this time she answered it herself. “Because you’re not used to women telling you the truth. Or rather, you’re inclined to always believe what they say is a lie.”
He waited a beat, his gaze never wavering before he replied. “It comes with the territory. The resistance to trust, I mean. Like it or not, I’m a hot commodity. Cautiousness was taught to me at a very young age.” He’d smiled as if he were joking, but she could tell he totally believed in what he had said.
“I’ve learned to be cautious, as well,” she replied, not at all offended by his comments about being a hot commodity.
To someone else those words may have sounded arrogant or possibly conceited. To her, ironically, they were honest. Roland was being honest with her, even though he didn’t trust any woman to give him the same in return.
“You never know what people truly think about you when all they’ve ever heard was gossip,” she admitted.
“Misjudgments,” Roland commented, as his eyes seemed to search her face for something she wasn’t quite sure she possessed. “People tend to do that far too often.”
“I agree,” she said, her throat suddenly dry.
“Honesty is a beautiful thing,” he continued as he rubbed his hands down his thighs.
“It can be,” Val replied. “On the other hand, some people can’t accept the truth as well as they can a lie.”
“You want to know what’s true at this very moment?” Roland asked.
Was he leaning closer?
Val clenched the napkin she’d been holding tightly in her hand.
“What?” she asked in response.
She didn’t really think she wanted to know what Roland was going to say next, but at the same time, she didn’t want this moment to end.
He was leaning closer, so that now he’d planted a palm on the blanket to hold himself steady as his face neared hers.
“I want you,” he whispered.
She gulped, loudly. Then she licked her lips impulsively as she watched his gaze lower to her mouth.
“Yes, Valora, I definitely, unquestionably want you.”
Val did not respond. Or rather, she did, similarly t
o the way she had the last time his lips touched hers. She kissed him back. This time with fervor that came from out of nowhere, whisking down over them and crashing into her chest as she opened her mouth to his.
* * *
He’d said it and, yes, Roland meant it. More than he feared he’d ever meant anything in his life. He wanted this woman.
While wanting a woman was nothing new to Roland, this was different. He wanted Valora on a totally different level than he had ever desired anyone else. Was that strange? Yes. He’d decided that about ten seconds after he’d called to reserve the jet. After Kris’s impromptu visit, Roland had been ready to leave Grand Serenity for one of his little vacations.
Now, he was glad he’d stayed.
She tasted like honey. Even after the spicy seafood and fruit, she still tasted sweet. And warm. Her tongue stroked slowly against his and Roland’s body heated all over. His fingers itched to touch her. His growing erection throbbed and Roland knew in that instant that he was in big trouble.
She pulled away before he could think of what to do next. Continuing their kiss and seeing where it led was currently high on his list of priorities.
“What are you doing, Roland?” she asked him as she smoothed her hands over her hair.
He liked her hair. It was short, combed in a feathery style on top and cut even lower on the sides. The color of it was black and stark against her butter-toned skin.
“Wow, if I have to explain, I guess I’m not doing it very well,” he joked, hoping to ease the sudden tension building between them.
“No,” she said with a shake of her head and a tentative smile. “What are you doing here? With me?”
“I’m doing something I’ve never done before,” he admitted.
“Why?”
She was staring intently at him, genuinely searching for the answer. Roland figured he might as well give it to her.
“Of all the people I know in this world, the ones I love and that love me, and even the ones I’ve never met, you’re the only one that looks at me without judgment. I know this because you never call me the Reckless Royal. You don’t mention the gambling or the rumors about the women I’m supposedly involved with, and you seem as comfortable sitting here with me as you were walking through that museum. I like all of those things.”
