Royally Claimed

by Marie Donovan

  On the other hand, Julia could offer classes in CPR and first aid to the local scouts. Exciting stuff. He sighed and flipped on the turn signal to enter the hospital parking lot.

  He spotted the emergency room drive-up lane. So did Julia. She tapped him on the stomach. “Let me off here. I’ll meet you inside.”

  Frank pulled over and helped her take off her helmet. She strode into the E.R. without looking back. He’d never seen this focused and driven side of her until she’d diagnosed poor Senhor de Sousa’s stroke. She really was a marvelous woman, personally and professionally. He was a goner for her—always had been.

  An impatient horn tooted behind him, and he realized he was blocking the driveway. He got out of the way, parking the motorcycle. He cut the engine but sat on the bike for a couple minutes, worrying about what to do. The woman he loved had given no signals about what she wanted to do after their little island interlude ended, as all good things did.

  Leaving her adrenaline-packed life in Boston for a sleepy Portuguese burg in the middle of nowhere would be a huge sacrifice. He wasn’t sure what her answer might be to that dilemma once he got up the nerve to ask her.

  11

  Fashionista Magazine: The Royal Review:

  WHAT WEDDING DRESS HAS Princess Stefania chosen? That’s the burning question for our readers (and the designers poised to create instant knock-offs). We at The Royal Review have heard some hints, but everyone, even our own beloved Countess Lily de Brissard, is exasperatingly mum.

  Princess Stefania has confirmed that she’s wearing a dress designed by her brother’s lady-love, New Yorker Renata Pavoni. Renata, who just may be Stefania’s sister-in-law someday, is known for hip dresses with a retro flair. A trip to her website at Peacock Designs shows white, pink, ivory and even black-and-white dresses, full skirts and heaps of crinolines. Perhaps our modern princess is going for a vintage vibe?

  Whatever the princess chooses is sure to be a trendsetter for upcoming brides. Renata, a stunning redhead who has kept infuriatingly quiet about her reportedly steamy relationship with Prince Giorgio, told us, “It’s always been my goal to offer fun, beautiful dresses for brides. Every woman is a princess on her wedding day. Stefania is so beautiful—she’s a dream to dress. But you won’t see her wedding gown until her groom does!”

  THE NEXT MORNING, JULIA heard a car horn toot outside her parents’ apartment and hastily zipped her duffel bag. Frank had arrived to take her back to Belas Aguas after their unplanned overnight on São Miguel.

  Despite his claim that she could go naked on his island and he would be perfectly happy, Julia wanted more clothing for variety’s sake. They still hadn’t discussed how long she might stay, but once her parents came home, her libertine carousing was done.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Julia, meu bem, it’s me,” Frank called.

  She opened the door and pulled him into her arms, her hands roaming over the soft dark blue cotton of his T-shirt.

  “Hey, hey.” His startled laugh was cut off by her passionate kiss. His lips moved sweetly over hers and he backed her into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind her. She finally let go of him and he lifted his head. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

  She ducked her head, suddenly shy. “I’m just glad to see you.”

  “And I’m glad to see you, too.” He caressed her cheek with his strong thumb. “Did you miss me?”

  “Well, yes.” She gave him a mock grumpy stare. “You could have stayed here last night.”

  “No.” His tone was uncompromising. “It would embarrass your parents to have the single Duke of Santas Aguas stay overnight unchaperoned in their apartment with their single daughter. I wouldn’t dishonor them that way.”

  “Oh, Frank,” she scoffed. “Who thinks about that nowadays?”

  “We Portuguese do. Do you want the neighbors gossiping about your parents?”

  “No, but they know I’m staying at Belas Aguas with you.”

  “Out of sight, out of mind. Even if the neighbors comment on that, and I’m sure they do,” he added dryly, “your parents will know that we had enough respect for them and their home to behave properly there.”

  It was sweet to consider her parents’ feelings and reputation, even if she had tossed and turned all night without him. “How was the hotel?”

  “Lonely.” His mouth pulled down. “And since we were at the hospital until after midnight, they had to put me in a broom closet of a room next to what sounded like the main water pipe for the whole building. It roared any time a guest brushed their teeth or flushed the toilet.”

  “Oh, poor Franco.” But she couldn’t stifle a giggle.

  “Yeah, I can tell you’re all broken up about it.” He picked up her duffle bag. “Maybe we should just head for the island instead of to the surprise I have planned for you.”

  “Another surprise? You don’t have to do that if we need to return to the villa.”

  “As much as I enjoyed our trip to Furnas yesterday, several hours at the emergency room last night were not what I call the perfect ending to a perfect day. I’d like to make it up to you.”

  “Okay, then.” Julia was willing to be talked out of a day of painting over deep red paint splotches. She locked the front door and made sure it closed tightly. Without Senhor de Sousa to keep an eye on things, she would have to rely on mechanical theft deterrents. “Frank, we should call the hospital before we go…wherever we’re going. I want to know how Senhor de Sousa is doing, but I wasn’t sure if anyone there spoke English.”

  “I already stopped there this morning after I traded the motorcycle for the car.” He held her elbow with his free hand as they descended the outside stairs. “He is doing about as well as they can expect, but the doctor told me he has excellent chances of nearly full recovery. Your quick reaction allowed them to almost totally dissolve the clot in his brain and prevent further damage.”

  “Oh, Frank!” They were on the sidewalk now and she threw her arms around his neck. “How wonderful!” She planted a big smooch on his cheek. “That’s exactly why I went into emergency medicine—saving lives and making a difference.”

  “Of course.” His smile seemed a bit strained, and she felt guilty for tooting her own horn thanks to someone else’s misfortune.

  “But I wouldn’t have known what was going on without you telling me he was speaking gibberish in Portuguese and being able to call the ambulance so quickly.”

  He put her bag in the backseat of the loaner car, a white compact. “I can call the hospital later since you will want to follow the progress of your patient. But he’s in the best of hands at the hospital, so you can put your mind at ease.” He opened the passenger door and settled her into the seat.

  “Thank you, Frank.”

  “No thanks necessary.” He went around to the driver’s side and started the engine.

  “Where did you say we’re going?”

  “I didn’t.” He grinned at her and acted as a tour guide, pointing out various historic churches and government buildings as they cruised across town. The scent of flowers floated into the car on a gentle breeze stirring the morning air. She sighed in happiness.

  “Are we going back to the park for more pastries?”

  “Pastries and kisses?” he teased.

  Her face heated and she swatted his thigh. He covered her hand with his. “Not here, meu bem. I have to concentrate on my driving.”

  “Frank!” She yanked her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You can distract me later.” But the traffic did thicken as they passed through the crowded center of town, braking for pedestrians and reckless drivers as they went.

  “This is the road to the airport. Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Nope.” But that was all he’d say despite her pestering him the rest of the way into the airport parking lot and finally the terminal.

  He stopped in front of the counter that listed that its next flight was
to the island of Terceira. “Terceira!” she squealed. “Frank, I haven’t been to Terceira since I was a kid.” That island, about ninety miles from São Miguel, was home to a small joint Portuguese–U.S. Air Force base where her dad had been stationed for a couple of years. The Azores had been an important refueling pit stop for transatlantic flights ever since the 1930s.

  Their flight to Terceira on a small commuter plane was short but slightly bumpy. Fortunately Julia had taken more airplane rides than ninety percent of the population and wasn’t fazed at all. She did enjoy holding his hand, even if she wasn’t nervous.

  They touched down smoothly on the runway and within a few minutes were driving away in a small rental car. “The airport’s much different than I remember—they’ve remodeled it since we were last here.”

  “Nothing stays the same,” Frank told her. “Not even my villa on Belas Aguas that was firmly stuck in the past, décor-wise.”

  “Benedito did his best to update that. And we still need to tackle his Experiments in Red, kind of like Picasso’s Blue Period. Or maybe not.”

  He groaned. “Oh, yes, he’s just too avant-garde and hip for a stuffy aristocrat like me.”

  Julia laughed. “You just can’t appreciate an artiste ahead of his time.”

  “Here’s the base entrance. Would you like to see if they’ll let us drive onto the base?”

  “That would be wonderful.” After being thoroughly vetted from their driver’s licenses and the rental car inspected top and bottom, the base’s guards gave them a temporary pass and let them through.

  Julia eagerly scanned the base, recognizing some of the older buildings. “They’ve added a new hotel and I think that office building is new.” Her eyes started to sting at being back at one of her childhood homes. She’d had so many and had never returned to any of those air bases, a typical military kid. “Oh, Frank.”

  “I know, I know.” He patted her knee. “That office building is ugly enough to make you cry. Why, oh, why can’t they find good architects?”

  She burst into laughter at his attempt to cheer her. The office building was really ugly, but she was so used to military architecture that she barely noticed. “I’m glad you brought me.” She wiped her eyes.

  “I’ve been to Terceira before but not visited the base.” Frank looked around in interest. “This is a little American town in the middle of the Azores. Some of the houses look kind of Azorean, but the rest is solidly American.”

  Julia pointed to the green hills behind the base. “And that is solidly Azorean. But the American airmen and the Azorean townspeople get along very well.”

  “Just like you and me.” Frank pulled over near a small playground where preschoolers swung and climbed. “A good mix of America and the Azores.” He took her hand. “Have you thought any more about visiting me at my ranch?”

  Julia bit her lip and immediately let go, but he’d spotted her nervousness. “Yes, I have thought about it and it sounds fun.” That was an understatement. “But I still have my job back in Boston. I’ve been gone quite a while already and I need to go back as soon as I’m able.”

  He pressed his lips into a tight line. “I know you love your work, but it’s dangerous. You’re the perfect example of someone who is only trying to help people and gets terribly injured. You could have been killed.”

  “I’m not ready to give up my work.” It’s the only thing I have, she almost said. She took a deep breath, realizing that wasn’t true. She had her family and her friends. And now she had Frank. She looked out the car window at the children, screaming with glee. “But I will think about coming to the mainland to see your estate. It sounds lovely.”

  He grinned at her compromise. She wasn’t very good at compromising, so she must have startled him. “It is lovely, sunny, warm and dry almost year round. At the top of one of the hills you can see twenty miles in all directions, the land spreading out below you like a brown-and-green quilt.”

  After a long, cold Boston winter, sunny, warm and dry was magic to her ears.

  Her stomach growled and Frank laughed. “Can I bribe you further with lunch?” He started the car and drove away from the playground.

  “Yes, but let’s go off base for that. The restaurant here specializes in cheeseburgers and sandwiches, and I’d like to try the local food.”

  He agreed and they finished their driving tour of the airbase. Julia made a silent vow to visit some of the other places she’d lived as a child. She’d parked herself in Boston for years and not traveled out of New En gland, maybe as a reaction to moving so often when she was younger.

  Frank drove out of the gates and toward the town. The village was crowded for a weekday, and they finally slipped into a parking space on a side street.

  “I wonder what’s going on today.” Julia looked up and down the sidewalk. Young men laughed and jostled each other while the young women pranced along the uneven sidewalk.

  “Must be a festival.” Frank spotted an older woman selling fruit drinks from a cart and started chatting with her. He broke into a grin, his white teeth flashing.

  Julia raised her eyebrows when he returned, excitement pulsing through him. “What is it?”

  “There are going to be bullfights throughout the day and everyone is welcome to try.”

  “Bullfights?” Julia had a hazy memory of her dad warning her to stay away from them.

  “Not the Spanish kind, meu bem,” he reassured her. “The Azorean kind where the bull doesn’t get hurt. Just a little bit annoyed.” He laughed. “Annoyed bulls—my favorite kind.”

  “You’re not thinking of fighting them, are you?”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not a fight—more of a taunt.”

  She shook her head. “You have to be crazy to consider it.”

  “I know what I’m doing and I’m sober, unlike most of the guys here. Besides, you’re not the only one with a taste for danger.”

  She pursed her lips like a fussy old lady.

  “Oh, the look on your face.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her tight mouth. She relaxed grudgingly and he gave her one last kiss before letting her go.

  “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Franco,” she told him, using her pet name for him.

  “If you think I want to get gored or stepped on, think again. Hard to make love to you with broken ribs,” he murmured seductively.

  “You do know how to charm an emergency room nurse,” she said wryly. “Maybe they’re finished for the day?”

  “No, they usually bring three or four bulls and rotate them.”

  “Great.”

  He laughed and hurried her down the street. “Come on, you’ll like it.”

  The street was barricaded to traffic a couple blocks later, leftover cardboard tied to protect decorative railings. Julia realized that was so the bull couldn’t stick his horns through and possibly gore someone.

  Spectators perched on high walls and grassy areas. “This is where they bring the bull? This tiny space where you can’t even fit two cars across?”

  “This is it.” His eyes were sparkling and he spotted an empty space behind a fence. He boosted her over despite her increasingly loud protests. “Stay here unless the bull’s coming at you.”

  She called his name but he waved and trotted toward the large wooden pen at the end of the street. Someone set off a firework rocket and the bull exploded out of the pen to the cheer of the crowd.

  The bull was glossy and black with blunted horns, a rope knotted around its neck. Julia’s gaze followed the rope to see four or five men in traditional flat-brimmed hats and white long-sleeved shirts holding the other end. She hoped they knew what they were doing. And that the rope held.

  Frank let the other men on the street dart close to the bull and then sprint away as the animal wheeled to chase them. He was probably gauging the bull’s reactions and temperament. After a minute or so, he was in the thick of it. Julia bit back scream after scream as he ran toward the bull and circled
away at the last second. Once he even affectionately touched the angry animal’s snout, almost as if it were his pet.

  “You maniac,” she muttered, her nails digging into her palms. He probably did this at home at his fazenda for fun, minus the rope.

  A younger man, probably still a teenager, slipped and went down right in front of the bull. Frank was there in a flash to distract the animal, grabbing both of his horns and yanking him away so he was forced to step sideways. The bull snorted in anger and tossed his head, lifting Frank off his feet and bouncing him back down on the ground. That time she did scream, a short cry she muffled with her hands. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she distracted him and he was hurt. Or even killed.

  For a second Julia thought he would slip under the bull’s hooves, but the men holding the rope pulled the bull back just enough for Frank to vault past the bull like some kind of circus acrobat.

  The crowd roared its appreciation for Frank’s bravery and fine bull-handling skills. He gave a cheerful wave without glancing around, still focused on that damn bull.

  If he hurt Frank, Julia would make him into hamburger.

  Now that the bull was wearing out, some of the older men took their turn and Frank gracefully stepped back.

  He came toward Julia and easily leaped up to where she gripped the fence. “What did you think, meu bem?”

  “Franco Duarte, you just took ten years off my life with that stunt. If you think I’m going to—mmmph!” She broke off as he grabbed her and kissed her.

  A cheer went up around them as he claimed her mouth, claimed her, with his blatant, masculine power. Julia yelped and he took advantage of her open mouth to deepen their kiss, his tongue teasing hers briefly.

  Her fingers crept into his dark, silky hair and she pressed against his hard chest. Now that he was out of danger she could admit that watching him challenge the dangerous animal had excited her.

  She ran her hands down the strong shoulders and arms that had lifted him safely around the bull.