“Who said anything about sleeping?”
He thought women liked having men sleep over. He’d certainly been asked to enough. Rowena looked as if she wasn’t sure what to think.
“What I don’t understand is why my father would be so adamant about you not pursuing me,” she said. “He’s always wanted me to marry an independently wealthy man with a good bloodline and political contacts. You’ve got it all, plus a royal title. You’re like his dream son-in-law.”
“I can think of one good reason. He thinks I’m a womanizer.”
“Are you?”
He made a pfft sound. “Certainly not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” The word had such a negative connotation. He was a gentleman. He treated women with respect.
“To be honest, I’m not even sure the exact definition.”
Since he wasn’t one, he had never experienced any burning need to know.
“Just for fun…” She held up her phone. “Let’s look it up.”
She tapped away at the screen for a minute, then said, “Here it is. According to my phone dictionary, a womanizer is ‘a man who engages in numerous casual sexual affairs with women.’” She looked over at him. “Do you do that?”
“That can’t be right,” he said.
She pointed to her phone. “It says it right here.”
He sat up and held out his hand. “Let me see that.”
He took it and read the definition on the screen. “I’ll be damned.”
She nodded sympathetically, holding her hand out for her phone. “The truth hurts, huh?”
“I would hardly say that I’m sexually promiscuous. I love women. I respect them.”
She shrugged. “Just lots of different ones.”
He glared at her. “I have never slept with a woman without first making it clear that it will never be anything but casual.”
“And you think that makes it okay?”
“I’m a gentleman. I pamper women.”
“You mean you buy them.”
She was twisting his words. “That isn’t what I said.”
“What makes you think you’re so special?”
Now she was putting words in his mouth. “I don’t recall saying I was special.”
“Let’s do this. Take the same situation, but take out the man and put a woman in instead. She dates often, sleeps with different men, pampers them and only wants to keep it casual. What does that make her?”
“The perfect woman?”
It was her turn to glare at him. “It makes her a slut, Colin. So why should the exact behavior be perfectly acceptable for a man?”
He hated to admit it, but she was right. So, by definition, he was a womanizer. “I suppose that I am in fact a slut.”
“Welcome to the club. We’ve got jackets.”
He shook his head and laughed.
“Hey, I have a great idea,” she said. “If we do get caught, we can just tell my father that it’s my fault. I came on to you, and though you tried to resist, I wouldn’t leave you alone, so you finally gave in and let me have my way with you.”
“You do have some dominance issues.” Not that he was complaining. It definitely kept things interesting. He was sure that any day now she was going to whip out the handcuffs or silk scarves.
“It’s not as if he could have a lower opinion of me. I had a child out of wedlock. In his mind, that labels me a slut for life.”
“I doubt he thinks that. He’s just protecting you.”
“This has nothing to do with him protecting me. The only person he’s protecting is himself. He doesn’t want you around me because he thinks that I’m the same mixed-up heathen I was before I had Dylan. He thinks I’ll embarrass him or, even worse, corrupt you and drag you down to my level.”
“That’s ridiculous. I can take care of myself.”
“Try to tell him that.” She pushed herself up and grabbed her bathing suit.
“Where are you going?”
“It’s getting late,” she said, tugging the suit on.
He picked up her phone to check the time. “We still have twenty minutes.”
“Colin, you take way longer than twenty minutes.”
“So let’s just talk.”
“I’m tired.” She pulled on her cover-up, then leaned down and kissed him. Not the slow, lingering kind. Just a quick peck. “Besides, we have all weekend, right?”
He got up, wrapped a blanket around his waist and followed her to the door. “Did I say something that upset you?”
“Of course not,” she said, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Call me at work tomorrow and we’ll decide what we want to do.”
“You’re sure everything is okay?”
“Everything is great,” she said, but as he watched her walk away, he didn’t believe her.
*
What was Colin’s deal? Why was he getting so…touchy-feely? So personal? It was supposed to be just sex, and now he wanted to talk? Where had that come from?
Lately it seemed Rowena was spending an awful lot of time convincing herself that Colin was not as wonderful as her brain was trying to make her believe. She would only wind up hurt. He was too good for her, and if he didn’t realize that, if he was actually having feelings for her, someone needed to clue him in.
When she got back to her room, Betty was watching television.
“Good swim?” Betty asked.
“Oh, yes, very refreshing.” Not. “How was Dylan?”
“Didn’t make a peep.”
Betty usually left the minute Rowena got there, but this time she didn’t even get off the couch. Exhausted, both physically and mentally, Rowena flopped down beside her and laid her head on her shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of her gardenia perfume. The same scent she’d worn as long as Rowena could remember.
“You know what I find remarkable?” Betty said.
“Hmm?”
“That for the last four days, you’ve managed to swim ninety minutes’ worth of laps without getting your hair wet. You don’t even smell like chlorine.”
Rowena’s breath backed up in her lungs. Oh, crap. Rowena was an intelligent woman. Had it not even occurred to her to take a quick dive into the pool before coming inside?
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Betty said, patting her knee. “You’ve been so happy lately I would have known something was up anyway.”
She sat up. “I’ve been happy?”
“More than I’ve seen you in years.”
“Even after Dylan?”
“That was a different kind of happy. Lately, you’ve been glowing. That new-love glow.”
“Betty, if my dad finds out—”
“Sweetheart, he isn’t going to hear it from me, and as far as the rest of the staff are concerned, there are more who have drifted over to your camp in the last year or two than you would probably believe. If I hear anyone breathe a word about it, I’ll set them straight.”
Well, that was nice to know. Not everyone thought she was a complete screwup. “Thank you. And as for the glowing thing, love has nothing to do with it. We’re keeping it casual.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Would it be so terrible to let yourself feel happy?”
It wasn’t that simple. Happiness always came with a price, and it just wasn’t worth the pain and disappointment of having to let it go.
*
After watching the senator’s limo drive away the next morning, Colin walked down the path to the day care with the box of books his sister had mailed to him. Children’s books he intended to donate to the day care. It was an excellent excuse to see Rowena. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been bothering her last night, and he wanted to know what.
He hit the buzzer at the gate, and a few seconds later Tricia appeared.
“Good morning, Colin.” She opened the gate and let him on the playground. He spotted Dylan, diggi
ng in the sandbox with a little girl who looked to be close to his age, but no Rowena.
“Is Rowena in her office?” he asked Tricia.
“She’s home sick today. Caught the flu. It’s nearly impossible to avoid in this line of work. I swear I spend ninety percent of my life fighting the sniffles.”
“Cowin!”
Colin turned to see Dylan hobbling over excitedly, faster than a walk, but not quite a run. Despite all the kid had been through in his short life, he sure seemed happy all the time.
“Hey, bud,” Colin said, surprised when Dylan threw himself at his legs, hugging them hard. For a kid so frail-looking, he had one hell of a grip.
He gazed up at Colin, frowned and said, “Mommy sick.”
“I know. Do you think I should go back to the mansion and check on her?”
Dylan’s eyes lit up. “Me, too! Me, too!”
“No way, kiddo,” Tricia said. “You know your mommy wants you to stay down here with me.”
His lower lip curled into a pout and Tricia pried him from Colin’s legs, scooping him up onto her hip. Then she grinned at Colin and said, “I’ll bet, if you ask nice, Colin would give Mommy a kiss for you.”
“Kiss Mommy! Kiss Mommy!”
“But don’t girls have cooties?” Colin asked.
Dylan giggled. “Not mommies.”
The little girl Dylan had been playing with called his name, so he wiggled out of Tricia’s arms and hobbled back to the sandbox.
“It’s a little late in the game to be worrying about cooties, don’t you think?” Tricia said. “What with all the swimming you two have been doing. But don’t worry, my lips are sealed. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in a really long time.”
And he was happy to be the person making her happy.
“I brought these for the day care,” he said, handing Tricia the box. “It’s just some old books I thought the children might like.”
“Thank you, Colin!” She looked at the address on the label. “You ordered them all the way from England?”
“Actually these are the books I had when I was a boy.”
“That’s so nice of you to do. Are you sure you don’t want to save them for when you have kids?”
“I’m sure.” He didn’t know if he would ever have children of his own. That would require settling down, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do that. He had a friend from the army who had started his own private security firm, and he wanted Colin to come work for him. He hadn’t given him an answer yet, but now that he was nearly recuperated, he had to give some serious thought as to what he planned to do next.
“Well, I should go,” he said, walking to the gate. “Enjoy the books.”
“Hey, Colin?” Tricia said.
He turned back to her.
“Rowena seems tough, but she’s actually very vulnerable.”
He’d figured that out pretty early in the game. “I know that.”
“I’ve never seen her so happy, but this is also a very difficult time for her. If you take advantage of her, or hurt her, royal or not, I will hunt you down and make you pay.”
He didn’t bother to point out that two people rarely went into a relationship of any kind expecting to hurt each other, yet it did happen from time to time.
He walked back up to the mansion, running into Betty on his way past the kitchen.
“I don’t suppose you’re on your way upstairs,” she said.
“I am, actually.”
“Could you do me a favor? I don’t know if you heard, but Rowena isn’t feeling well. Could you stop by her suite and give her these?” She dropped a stack of clean linens and blankets in his arms. “With the rain coming my arthritis is bad, especially going up and down all those stairs. Would you mind?”
“No, not at all. As long as you don’t think she’ll mind.”
“I think we both know the answer to that,” Betty said, giving him a wink.
“Did Rowena tell you…?”
She smiled and patted his arm. “She didn’t have to.”
And by sending Colin up with the linens, she’d given him the perfect excuse to see her.
“Thanks, Betty.”
She just smiled. “If she needs anything, you tell her to call down.”
Colin walked upstairs and knocked on the door to Rowena’s suite. He heard an incoherent mumble from the other side and, assuming it was an invitation, he let himself in. The television was on and Rowena was curled up in a ball on the couch, an afghan tucked tightly around her, eyes closed, looking pale and listless.
“Caught a bug, have we?” he said.
Her eyes fluttered open, and when she saw that it was him standing there, she gasped and pulled the covers over her head, mumbling from underneath, “What are you doing here?”
“Tricia told me you were sick, and Betty sent me up to give you these blankets and linens. How are you feeling?”
“Like death, and I’m sure I look like it, too. I haven’t even brushed my hair.”
“Have you called a physician?”
She peeked her head out from under the afghan. “It’s this god-awful flu that’s going around. I’ll be fine in a day or two. And you shouldn’t even be here. Trust me when I say you do not want to catch this.”
Instead of backing off, he sat on the edge of the couch cushion right beside her. “Considering all the time we’ve spent together, odds are good I’ve already caught it. Have you taken your temperature?”
She shook her head.
“What are your symptoms?”
“Fever, chills, body aches and I think my head might explode. But the ibuprofen is helping.”
He sat on the edge of the cushion and held his wrist to Rowena’s forehead, the way his sister had done when Colin was sick as a boy. She felt a little warm, but not enough to cause concern. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“You don’t have to take care of me. Betty checks on me every so often, and I can call her if I need anything.”
“Have you had water?”
“Some, when I got up this morning.”
“You should be drinking fluids to stay hydrated. Have you eaten anything?”
She shook her head. “Not since dinner last night.”
“When I was young, and I had the flu, my sister Matilda fixed me chicken soup.” He paused and added, “Well, she had the maid fix it for me. But she always sat with me while I ate it, and read me stories until I fell asleep.”
“Why your sister and not your parents?”
“Matty is twenty years older than me, and when I wasn’t off at boarding school, she raised me.”
“Why her?”
“I was born quite late in my parents’ lives. My father was sixty, my mother forty-seven. I was unplanned, and neither seemed to have much interest in starting over, especially with a demanding and precocious little boy like myself.”
“Demanding and precocious? I’d never have guessed.”
“I had a fondness for setting things on fire.”
Her runny, bloodshot eyes went wide. “Seriously?”
He looked around the room, then said, “You have good insurance, yes?”
Her smile was weak, but genuine.
“The truth is, my days as an arsonist ended when I set fire to the boys’ loo at boarding school. Suffice it to say, the punishment more than fit the crime.”
“Sounds like it was a cry for attention.”
“I imagine it was.”
“Does your sister have a family of her own?”
“No. She married young, before I was born, but her husband became ill shortly after and died. She was pregnant—which I gather is why they married in the first place—but she lost the baby. She never remarried or had other children.”
“That’s so sad.”
“I used to pretend that my parents were actually my grandparents, and Matty was really my mum. She loved me as if she were. To this day she still tries to baby me.”
“Could it be possible that s
he is?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No, no chance. It was just a dejected child’s foolish fantasy.”
“Are your parents still living?”
“My father passed away when I was at university. My mother is still alive and staying with my sister, but she’s not doing well.”
“Do you see her often?”
“Once or twice a year.”
“That’s it?”
“Matty implores me to visit more, but there’s no real…emotional attachment.”
“I wish I only had to see my father once a year.” She paused, looking distraught, and said, “Oh, no, this was supposed to be our weekend. I’m ruining it.”
“There will be other weekends. Or you might feel fine by tomorrow. We’ll just wait and see.”
“Okay.”
“Would you be more comfortable in bed?”
“Probably, but Dylan spilled juice all over my sheets and blankets this morning when he was trying to bring me breakfast.”
“Why don’t I change them for you, so you can lie down?”
“Colin, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t. I want to.” He grabbed the sheets and blankets and carried them to her bedroom. What looked like dried grape juice was splattered across the sheets and duvet, and there were spots on the carpet, as well. He stripped the bed, inhaling the scent of her skin. She was so familiar to him now. He knew how she smelled, how she tasted, every curve of her body. He knew just where to touch her to bring her off, or how to take his time and drive her slowly out of her mind until she was begging for release. He liked that above all else sex with her was not only extremely satisfying, but fun. She didn’t expect to be treated like a princess or require sappy sentiments of affection. She didn’t talk about making love. They had sex, plain and simple, and they did it very well.
He fixed the bed, then helped her up from the couch. She was so woozy she teetered a bit. He led her to her room and helped her into bed. “Now, let’s see if I remember how to do this.”
Confused, she asked, “Do what?”
“Tuck you in. If I recall, first you lie down. Which you have done. Then covers, right?” He pulled the covers up all the way to her chin, then tucked them firmly around her shoulders. “Are you warm enough?”
She nodded.
“I feel as if I’m forgetting something.”
Bedroom Diplomacy Page 8
