by Abby Green
Joseph remained. For once, he wasn’t wearing those dark glasses. But he still had the Bluetooth device in his ear. And he carried a black duffel bag.
Rule looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m afraid Joseph goes where I go.”
Sydney spoke to the bodyguard. “I hope you don’t mind sleeping in a separate room from His Highness.”
The severe-looking Joseph almost cracked a smile. “Ma’am, if you have a spare room, that would be appreciated. If not, the sofa will do well enough.”
“I have a guest room.” She indicated the doorway at the end of the hall. “The kitchen is through there. While you’re here, make yourself at home. You’re welcome to anything you find in the pantry or the fridge.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She turned to Rule. “Are you hungry?”
His dark eyes said, Not for food, and she felt the loveliest warmth low in her belly, and a definite wobbliness in her knees. He told her, “I ate on the plane.”
So she led the way up the stairs and showed Joseph to his room, indicating Trevor’s bathroom across the hall. “I’m afraid you’ll have to share the bathroom with my son.”
“Thank you. This will suit me very well.”
Before joining Rule in her room, she tapped on Lani’s door and told her friend that Rule’s bodyguard was staying in the guest room.
Lani, reading in bed, looked up from her eReader, over the top rims of her glasses. “Thanks for the warning—and don’t stay up all night.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Say hi to Rule.”
“Will do.”
She went to her own room and found Rule standing in the bow window, staring out at the quiet street. “Lani says hi.”
He turned to her. “I like your house. It’s comfortable, and the rooms are large. Lots of windows …”
She hovered in the open doorway, her stomach suddenly all fluttery. “We’ve been happy here. It will be strange, to live in a palace.”
“I have other properties. Villas. Town houses. You might prefer one of them.”
All at once, the life that lay before her seemed alien, not her own. “We’ll see.” The two words came out on a breath.
He held out his hand to her. “Are you shy of me now, Sydney?”
Her throat clutched. She spoke through the tightness. “A little, I guess.” A nervous laugh escaped her. “That’s silly, isn’t it?”
He shook his dark head. “Come here. Let me ease your fears.”
Pausing only to shut the door and engage the lock, she went to him and took the hand he offered. His touch burned her and soothed her at once.
He reached out with the hand not holding hers and shut the blinds. “I put my suitcases in your closet….”
She moved in closer. He framed her face. She said, “It seems like forever, since you left….”
“I’m here now.”
“I’m so glad about that.”
He kissed her. And the throat-tight nervousness faded. There was only his mouth on her mouth, his hands against her cheeks, brushing down the sides of her throat, tracing the collar of her cotton shirt, and then going to work on the buttons down the front of it.
She was breathless and sighing, pulling him closer. He took away her shirt and her bra. He pushed down the leggings she had pulled on after work. She kicked away her little black flats and wiggled the rest of the way out of the leggings.
And then he went to work on his own clothes, kissing her senseless as he ripped off his jacket, his shirt, his trousers … everything. She had only her panties on and he was completely naked when he started walking her backward toward the bed.
“Wait,” she breathed against his lips.
He only went on kissing her—until she gave a gentle shove against his chest. With an impatient growl, he lifted his mouth from hers. “You know you’re killing me….”
She put her finger to those amazing lips of his. “Only a moment …”
“A moment is too long.” But he did let her go.
She turned around and pulled the covers down, smoothing them. “There.”
“Sydney …” He clasped her by the hips and drew her back against him.
“I’m here. Right here …” She lifted her arms and reached for him, clasping his neck, turning her head to him so their mouths could fuse once again.
His tongue plundered her mouth and his hands covered her breasts. And she could feel him, all along her body, feel the power of him, the heat. Feel the proof of how much he wanted her, silky and hard, pressing into her back.
And then he was turning her and guiding her down onto the sheets and right then, at that moment on that night, she was the happiest woman in Texas. There was only the feel of his big body settling against hers, only his kiss, only his skilled touch, on her breasts, her belly and lower.
He took away her panties and those wonderful fingers of his found the womanly core of her and she moaned into his mouth. He kissed her some more as he caressed her, bringing her higher, making her clutch his hard shoulders and press herself closer.
Closer …
And then she couldn’t wait. Not one second longer. She eased her hand between them and she wrapped her fingers around him and she guided him into place.
When he came into her, she let out a soft cry at the sheer beauty of it, at the feel of him filling her. So perfectly. So right.
He kissed her throat, and then scraped the willing flesh there with his teeth. And then he licked her. And then he blew on her wet skin and she moaned and pulled him closer again, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist, pushing herself harder against him, demanding everything of him, wanting it all.
When he held her like this, when he worked his special magic on her skin, she had no doubts at all. She would follow him anywhere, and she would be happy.
Just the two of them and Trevor. And maybe, if they were lucky, more children. Three or four. Nine or ten …
She’d forgotten how many she wanted, how many they had finally agreed on. And what did it matter how many? She would love them all, every one.
And by then, she’d forgotten everything—everything but this, but the man who held her, the man who filled her. The pleasure was building, spinning fast, and then gathering tight.
Only to open outward, a sudden blooming, so hot and perfect. She cried out again, loud enough that he had to cover her mouth with his hand.
She laughed against his fingers, a wild sound. And then he was laughing with her. And still the pleasure bloomed and grew. And all at once, they were silent, serious, concentrated, eyes wide open, falling into each other.
Falling and spinning, set gloriously free: the two of them, locked together. She was lost in his eyes. And more than happy to be so.
She whispered his name.
With a low groan, he gave hers back to her.
She must have slept for a time.
When she woke, he was braced up on an elbow, looking down at her, his eyes black velvet, his mouth an invitation to sin.
She reached up, curved her fingers around the back of his head, pulled him closer. They shared a quick, gentle kiss. “It’s so good, to wake up and find you here. I want to do that for the rest of my life.”
“And my darling, you shall. Now go back to sleep.”
“Soon. Tell me about your parents. Are they angry, that you married me?”
“No. They’re pleased. Very pleased.”
She wasn’t buying that. “They don’t even know me. You met me and married me in like, ten minutes or less. How can they be pleased with that? I mean, I could understand if you said they were … accepting. But pleased?”
“They know me. They know that I’m happy, that I’ve found the woman I want to be with for a lifetime. They’re relieved and they’re grateful.”
“Well, okay.” She traced the shape of his ear. It was such a good-looking ear. “I get that. I mean, they were probably getting pretty concerned, right, that you wouldn’t marry in time?”
“But if you’d married the Princess of Alagonia, wouldn’t that have made them a lot happier?”
“No. Evidently not. They told me they didn’t think Lili and I would have been a good match.”
“You’d think they might have said that earlier.”
“My response exactly.”
“Someone should change that ridiculous law.”
“My mother’s great-grandfather, who ruled Montedoro for fifty years, did change it. He abolished the law. And then my mother’s father put the law in place once again.”
“But why?”
“My mother’s grandfather didn’t marry until late in life. He had eight children, but only one was legitimate, my mother’s father, my grandfather. Then my grandfather had just one child, a daughter, legitimate, my mother. The family was dying out. My grandfather took action. He put the law back in place.”
She laughed. “And then your mother obeyed it. She married young, brought in fresh blood and took her reproductive duties to heart.”
“Yes, she did. And look at us now.”
“Heirs and spares all over the place.”
“That’s right. So you see, the law has its uses.”
She frowned, considering. “There must be any number of ways around it. You could marry someone in time to keep your inheritance, and then divorce her as soon as your thirty-third birthday has passed.”
He nuzzled her neck. “Already planning how you’ll get rid of me, eh?”
She laughed, and caught his face and kissed him, hard, on the mouth. “Never. But you know what I’m saying, right?”
“We are Catholic. The heir to the throne always marries in the church. Divorce is not an option in the church. There is annulment, but there are specific grounds for that, none of them pretty. And you have to understand. In my family, we are raised to respect the Prince’s Marriage Law. We believe it is a good law, good for Montedoro—especially after we saw what happened when my great-great-grandfather abolished it. And we grow up committed to the spirit of that law, to finding a proper marriage partner by the required date. My parents were good parents, parents who spent time with their children, what you would call in America ‘hands-on’ parents. My mother considers each of her nine children to be every bit as important as her throne.”
“Well, all right,” she said. “I guess I can’t argue with success. But I do have a couple more questions.”
“Ask.”
“Do we have to marry in the church in order for you to keep your inheritance?”
“No. The heir must marry in the church. The rest of us are only required to be legally wed before the age of thirty-three. But, should I become the heir—which is most unlikely at this point—you and I would have to take steps for a church-sanctioned marriage. That would not be complicated, as neither of us has been married before.”
“Do you want us to be married in the church?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I do, yes.”
“Good answer.” She slid her hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck. “I want that, too.”
“Then we shall take the necessary steps to make it happen as soon as we’re settled in Montedoro.”
“Agreed. I think we should seal it with a kiss.”
“Beyond a doubt, we should.”
So they kissed. A long, slow one. The kiss led to more kisses and then to the usual stimulating conclusion.
Rule told her again to go sleep.
She said, “Soon.”
And then they talked for another hour about everything from the success of his plan to sell Montedoran oranges to a number of exclusive outlets in the U.S., to why his brother Alex and Princess Lili had never gotten along. Alex, Rule said, had always thought Lili was silly and shallow; Lili considered Alex to be overly brooding and grim, with a definite tendency toward overbearing self-importance.
Sydney learned that his brother Max’s son was named Nicholas and Max’s little girl was Constance. And Rule told her that in his great-grandfather’s day, the economy of Montedoro was almost solely dependent on gambling revenues. His grandfather and his mother had made a point to expand the principality’s economic interests beyond its traditional gambling base.
“Now,” he said, “gambling accounts for only four percent of our nation’s annual revenues.”
She reminded him that he knew all about Ryan and Peter. But other than Liliana, she knew nothing of the women who had mattered in his life.
“You already know that I admire my mother,” he said with a gleam in his eye.
“Your mother and your sisters don’t count. I’m talking love affairs, Rule. You know that I am.”
So he told her about the Greek heiress he’d loved when he was fourteen. “She had an absolutely adorable space between her two front teeth and she spoke with a slight lisp and she intended to run away to America and become a musical theater star.”
“Did she?”
“Unfortunately, she was tone deaf. I heard her sing once. Once was enough.”
“Destroyed your undying love for her, did it?”
“I was young and easily distracted. Especially when it came to love.” He spoke of the girl he’d met in a Paris café when he was eighteen. And of an Irish girl he’d met in London. “Black hair, blue eyes. And a temper. A hot one. At first, I found her temper exciting. But in time it grew tiresome.”
“Luckily there were any number of actresses and models just waiting for their chance with you.”
“You make me sound like a Casanova.”
“Weren’t you?”
“No. I was not. Yes, I’ve spent time with a number of women, but seduction for its own sake has never interested me. I was … looking for someone. The right someone.” He lowered his head until their noses touched. “You.”
Her heart did that melty thing. “Oh, Rule …”
He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips—sweet, brushing kisses. “Will you please go to sleep now?” He tucked the covers closer around her. “Close your eyes …”
And she did.
The next day was Saturday. Sydney left Rule having breakfast with Trevor and Lani and spent the morning at the office, where things were pretty quiet and she got a lot done.
She returned home at lunchtime and spent the rest of the day with Rule and her son and her best friend. She and Rule went out to dinner that night and then, at home, made slow, wonderful love. They fell asleep with their arms wrapped around each other. Her last thought before she drifted off was that she had it all now. Her life was exactly as she’d once dreamed it might be.
Sunday she stayed home, too. She and Rule took Trevor to the park in the morning. She watched Rule pushing Trev on the swings and thought how already they seemed like father and son. Trev adored him. It was “Roo” this and “Roo” that. The feeling was clearly mutual. Rule seemed to dote on Trev. He never tired of listening to Trev babble on about the things that mattered to a curious two-year-old.
And an older lady, a woman there with her grandson, leaned close to Sydney when they sat on the bench together. “Your boy looks just like his daddy.”
Sydney smiled at the woman. “He does, doesn’t he?”
Later, at lunch, Trev was back into his knock-knock jokes. He and Rule played a never-ending game of them until Sydney put her hands over her ears and begged them to stop.
Trev laughed. “Mama says, ‘No more knock-knock!’“
Rule piped up with, “Mama says, ‘Touch your nose.’“ He touched his nose and then Trev, delighted, touched his. And Rule said, “Mama says, ‘Rub your tummy.’“ They both rubbed their tummies.
Trev caught on about then and they were off on the “Mama” version of Simon Says. Sydney laughed along with them.
The woman at the park had been right. And Lani had noticed the resemblance, too. They were so much alike, really. They even had mannerisms in common—the way they each ti
pped their head, a little to the left, when thoughtful. Even the way they smiled was similar—slow and dazzling.
Sydney supposed it wasn’t all that surprising, how much Trev resembled his new stepdad. The sperm donor she’d chosen had a lot of characteristics in common with Rule—hair and eye color, height and build. And the similarities weren’t only physical. The donor had an advanced degree in business and enjoyed travel and sports. And the description of him compiled by the staff at the cryobank? All about how charming and handsome and bright and dynamic he was. How well-spoken and articulate, a born leader and a good listener. His profile also said that family was important to him and he believed in marriage, that he felt it could and should last a lifetime.
She’d selected that particular donor mostly because he sounded like the kind of man she’d given up on finding. After all, a woman hopes her child might inherit traits that she admires.
A little shiver skittered up her spine as she watched her son and Rule together and compared her husband with the man who had supplied half of her child’s DNA. Life could be so strange and amazing. Really, she’d chosen her own personal fantasy man as her sperm donor, not even realizing that he was destined to materialize in the flesh and promptly sweep her off her feet into their very own happy-ever-after—let alone that he would so quickly become a doting father to her son.
That Sunday was sunny and clear, with a high in the mid-eighties, a little warm for mid-April. It was a great day for splashing around in the pool—which they did as soon as Trevor woke up from his nap. Later, Lani made dinner, a fabulous Greek-style shrimp scampi.
Monday it was off to work again. Rule showed up at a little after eleven. Sydney introduced him around the office and two of the partners were only too happy to join them for lunch at the Mansion.
It was a working lunch, and a very productive one. By the end of it, Rule had set up three dinner dates where he would introduce her colleagues to more potential clients.
After lunch, he returned to the house and she went back to work.
Their days fell into a certain rhythm. The office owned her during the long weekdays, but she spent her nights with her new husband and managed to get most of the weekend free to be with Trevor, too. Rule spent a lot of time with her son and the growing bond between the man and the boy was something special to see. Rule would play with him for hours during the day and read him his bedtime stories most nights.
