The prince chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. “We’re a bit more modern than that. You’ll find the guest rooms have all the amenities and distinction you would expect from a five-star hotel.”
Not that she would know the difference, seeing as how she’d never been in anything more luxurious than a Days Inn.
“Although…” He paused and looked over at her. “The only feasible place for the lab, short of building a new facility on the grounds, was the basement.”
She shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d worked in a basement lab. “That’s fine with me.”
“It used to be a dungeon.”
Her interest piqued. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Very dark and dank at one time, complete with chains on the wall and torture devices.”
She gazed at him skeptically. “You’re joking, right?”
“Completely serious. It’s been updated since then of course. We use it for food and dry storage, and the wine cellar. The laundry facilities are down there, as well. I think you’ll be impressed with the lab. Not dark or dank at all.”
Because the majority of her time would be spent staring in a microscope or at a computer screen, what the lab looked like didn’t matter all that much to her. As long as it was functional.
He led her through an enormous kitchen bustling with activity and rich with the scents of fresh baked bread and scintillating spices. Her stomach rumbled and she tried to recall the last time she’d eaten. She’d been way too nervous to eat the meal offered on the plane.
There would be time for food later.
Aaron stopped in front of a large wood door that she assumed led to the basement. “There’s a separate employee entrance that the laundry staff use. It leads outside, to the back of the castle. But as a guest, you’ll use the family entrance.”
“Okay.”
He reached for the handle but didn’t open the door. “There is one thing I should probably warn you about.”
Warn her? That didn’t sound good. “Yes?”
“As I said, the basement has been updated.”
“But…?”
“It did used to be a dungeon.”
She wasn’t getting his point. “Okay.”
“A lot of people died down there.”
Was she going to trip over bodies on her way to the lab or something? “Recently?”
He laughed. “No, of course not.”
Then she wasn’t seeing the problem. “So…?”
“That bothers some people. And the staff is convinced it’s haunted.”
Liv looked at him as though he’d gone completely off his rocker.
“I take it you don’t believe in ghosts,” Aaron said.
“The existence of spirits, or an afterlife, have never been proven scientifically.”
He should have expected as much from a scientist. “Well, then, I guess you have nothing to fear.”
“Do you?” she asked.
“Believe in ghosts?” Truthfully, he’d never felt so much as a cold draft down there, but people had sworn to hearing disembodied voices and seeing ghostly emanations. There were some members of the staff who refused to even set foot on the stairs. Also there was an unusually high turnover rate among the laundry workers. But he was convinced that it was more likely overactive imaginations than anything otherworldly. “I guess you could say I try to keep an open mind.”
He opened the door and gestured her down. The stairwell was narrow and steep, the wood steps creaky under their feet as they descended.
“It is a little spooky,” she admitted.
At the bottom was a series of passageways that led to several different wings. The walls down here were still fashioned out of stone and mortar, although well lit, ventilated and clean.
“Storage and the wine cellar are that way,” he said, pointing to the passages on the left. “Laundry is straight ahead down the center passage, and the lab is this way.”
He led her to the right, around a corner to a shiny metal door with a thick glass window that to him looked completely out of place with its surroundings. He punched in his security code to unlock it, pulled it open and hit the light switch. The instant the lights flickered on he heard a soft gasp behind him, and turned to see Liv looking in wide-eyed awe at all the equipment they’d gotten on loan from various facilities on the island and mainland. The way one might view priceless art. Or a natural disaster.
She brushed past him into the room. “This is perfect,” she said in that soft, breathy voice, running her hands along pieces of equipment whose purpose he couldn’t begin to imagine. Slow and tender, as if she were stroking a lover’s flesh.
Damn. He could get turned on watching her do that, imagining those hands roaming over him.
If she were his type at all, which she wasn’t. Besides, he wasn’t lacking for female companionship.
“It’s small,” he said.
“No, it’s perfect.” She turned to him and smiled, a dreamy look on her face. “I wish my lab back home were this complete.”
He was surprised that it wasn’t. “I was under the impression that you were doing some groundbreaking research.”
“Yes, but funding is an issue no matter what kind of work you’re doing. Especially when you’re an independent, like me.”
“There must be someone willing to fund your research.”
“Many, but there’s way too much bureaucracy in the private sector. I prefer to do things my way.”
“Then our donation should go far.”
She nodded eagerly. “The truth is, a few more weeks and I might have been homeless. You called in the nick of time.”
She crossed the room to the metal shipping containers that had preceded her arrival by several days. “I see my things made it safely.”
“Do you need help unpacking?”
She vigorously shook her head. “There are sensitive materials and equipment in here. I’d rather do it myself.”
That seemed like an awful lot of work for one person. “The offer for the assistant is still good. I can have someone here Friday morning.”
She looked at her watch, her face scrunching with confusion. “And what’s today? The time change from the U.S. has me totally screwed up.”
“It’s Tuesday. Five o’clock.”
“P.M.?”
“Yes. In fact, dinner is at seven.”
She nodded, but still looked slightly confused.
“Out of curiosity, when was the last time you slept?”
She scrunched her face again, studied her watch for a second, then shrugged and said, “I’m not sure. Twenty hours at least. Probably more.”
“You must be exhausted.”
“I’m used to it. I keep long hours in the lab.”
Twenty hours was an awfully long time, even for a workaholic, and he’d traveled often enough to know what jet lag could do to a person. Especially someone unaccustomed to long plane trips. “Maybe before you tackle unpacking the lab you should at least take a nap.”
“I’m fine, really. Although, I guess I wouldn’t mind a quick change of clothes.”
“Why don’t I show you to your room.”
She looked longingly at all of the shiny new equipment, then nodded and said, “All right.”
He switched off the lights and shut the door, hearing it lock automatically behind him.
“Will I get my own code?” she asked.
“Of course. You’ll have full access to whatever and wherever you need.”
He led Liv back through the kitchen and up the stairs to the third floor, to the guest rooms. She looked a bit lost when they finally reached her door.
“The castle is so big and confusing,” she said.
“It’s not so bad once you learn your way around.”
“I don’t exactly have a great sense of direction. Don’t be surprised if you find me aimlessly wandering the halls.”
“I’ll have Derek print you up a map.” He opened her door and gestured
her in.
“It’s beautiful,” she said in that soft, breathy voice. “So pretty.”
Far too feminine and fluffy for his taste, with its flowered walls and frilly drapes, but their female guests seemed to appreciate it. Although he never would have pegged Liv as the girly-girl type. She was just too…analytical. Too practical. On the surface anyhow.
“The bathroom and closet are that way,” he said, gesturing to the door across the room. But Liv’s attention was on the bed.
“It looks so comfortable.” She crossed the room to it and ran one hand over the flowered duvet. “So soft.”
She was a tactile sort of woman. Always stroking and touching things. And he couldn’t help but wonder how those hands would feel touching him.
“Why don’t you take it for a spin,” he said. “The lab can wait.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t,” she protested, but she was already kicking off her shoes and crawling on top of the covers. She settled back against the pillows and sighed blissfully. Her eyes slipped closed. “Oh, this is heavenly.”
He hadn’t actually meant right that second. The average guest would have waited until he’d left the room, not flop down into bed right in front of him. But he could see that there was nothing average about Olivia Montgomery.
At least she hadn’t undressed first. Not that he wasn’t curious to see what she was hiding under those clothes. He was beginning to think there was much more to Liv than she let show.
“You’ll find your bags in the closet. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a maid to unpack for you?”
“I can do it,” she said, her voice soft and sleepy.
“If you change your mind, let me know. Other than that, you should have everything you need. There are fresh towels and linens in the bathroom. As well as toiletries. If you need anything else, day or night, just pick up the phone. The kitchen is always open. You’re also welcome to use the exercise room or game room, day or night. We want you to feel completely comfortable here.”
He walked to the window and pushed the curtain aside, letting in a shaft of late-afternoon sunshine. “You have quite a lovely view of the ocean and the gardens from here. Although there isn’t much to see in the gardens this time of year. We could take a walk out there tomorrow.”
Or not, he thought, when she didn’t answer him. Then he heard a soft rumbling sound from the vicinity of the bed.
She had turned on her side and lay all curled up in a ball, hugging the pillow. He walked over to the bed and realized that she was sound asleep.
“Liv,” he called softly, but she didn’t budge. Apparently she was more tired than she’d realized.
He found a spare blanket in the closet, noticing her luggage while he was in there, and the conspicuously small amount of it. Just two average-size bags that had seen better days. The typical female guest, especially one there for an extended stay, brought a whole slew of bags.
He reminded himself once again that Liv was not the typical royal guest. And, he was a little surprised to realize, he liked that about her. It might very well be a refreshing change.
He walked back to the bed and covered her with the blanket, then, for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand, felt compelled to just look at her for a moment. The angles of her face softened when she slept, making her appear young and vulnerable.
She’s not your type, he reminded himself.
If he was going to be honest with himself, his “type” had plenty to offer physically, but intellectually, he was usually left feeling bored and unfulfilled. Maybe it was time for a change of pace.
Seducing a woman like Liv might be just what he needed to spice things up.
Three
I t was official. Liv was lost.
She stood in an unfamiliar hallway on what she was pretty sure was the second floor, looking for the staircase that would lead her down to the kitchen. She’d been up and down two separate sets of stairs already this morning, and had wandered through a dozen different hallways. Either there were two identical paintings of the same stodgy-looking old man in a military uniform, or she’d been in this particular hallway more than once.
She looked up one end to the other, hopelessly turned around, wondering which direction she should take. She felt limp with hunger, and the backpack full of books and papers hung like a dead weight off one shoulder. If she didn’t eat soon, her blood sugar was going to dip into the critical zone.
She did a very scientific, eenie-meenie-minie-moe, then went left around the corner and plowed face-first into a petite, red-haired maid carrying a pile of clean linens. The force of the collision knocked her off balance and the linens fell to the carpet.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Liv crouched down to pick them up. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“It’s no problem, miss,” the maid said in a charming Irish brogue, kneeling down to help. “You must be our scientist from the States. Miss Montgomery?”
Liv piled the last slightly disheveled sheet in her arms and they both stood. “Yes, I am.”
The maid looked her up and down. “Well, you don’t much look like a scientist.”
“Yeah, I hear that a lot.” And she was always tempted to ask what she did look like, but she was a little afraid of the answer she might get.
“I’m Elise,” the maid said. “If you need anything at all, I’m the one to be asking.”
“Could you tell me where to find the kitchen? I’m starving.”
“Of course, miss. Follow this hallway down and make a left. The stairs will be on your right, about halfway down the hall. Take them down one flight, then turn right. The kitchen is just down the way.”
“A left and two rights. Got it.”
Elise smiled. “Enjoy your stay, miss.”
She disappeared in the direction Liv had just come from. Liv followed her directions and actually found the kitchen, running into—although not literally this time—Prince Aaron’s assistant just outside the door.
“Off to work already?” he asked.
“Looking for food actually. I missed dinner last night.”
“Why don’t you join the prince in the family dining room.”
“Okay.” She could spend another twenty minutes or so looking for the dining room, and possibly collapse from hunger, or ask for directions. “Could you show me where it is?”
He smiled and gestured in the opposite direction from the kitchen. “Right this way.”
It was just around the corner. A surprisingly small but luxurious space with French doors overlooking the grounds. A thick blanket of leaves in brilliant red, orange and yellow carpeted the expansive lawn and the sky was a striking shade of pink as the sun rose above the horizon.
At one end of a long, rectangular cherry table, leaning casually in a chair with a newspaper propped beside him, sat Prince Aaron. He looked up when they entered the room, then rose to his feet.
“Well, good morning,” he said with a smile, and her stomach suddenly bound up into a nervous knot.
“Shall I take your bag?” Derek asked her.
Liv shook her head. That backpack had all of her research. She never trusted it to anyone else. “I’ve got it, thanks.”
“Well, then, enjoy your breakfast,” Derek said, leaving her alone with the prince. Just the two of them.
Only then did it occur to her that she might have been better off eating alone. What would they say to each other? What could they possibly have in common? A prince and an orphan?
The prince, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. In jeans and a flannel shirt he was dressed much more casually than the day before. He looked so…normal. Almost out of place in the elegant room.
He pulled out the chair beside his own. “Have a seat.”
As she sat, she found herself enveloped in the subtle, spicy scent of his aftershave. She tried to recall if William, her possibly-soon-to-be fiancé, wore aftershave or cologne. If he had, she’d never noticed.
The prince’s finge
rs brushed the backs of her shoulders as he eased her chair in and she nearly jolted against the sudden and intense zing of awareness.
He was touching her.
Get a grip, Liv. It wasn’t like he was coming on to her. He was being polite and she was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. Even when she was a schoolgirl she had never acted this way. She’d been above the temptation that had gotten so many other girls from high school in trouble. Or as her last foster mom, Marsha, used to put it, in the family way.
Then the prince placed both hands on her shoulders and her breath caught in her lungs.
His hands felt big and solid and warm. You are not going to blush, she told herself, but already she could feel a rush of color searing her cheeks, which only multiplied her embarrassment.
It was nothing more than a friendly gesture, and here she was having a hot flash. Could this be any more humiliating?
“Do you prefer coffee or tea?” he asked.
“Coffee, please,” she said, but it came out high and squeaky.
He leaned past her to reach for the carafe on the table, and as he did, the back of her head bumped the wall of his chest. She was sure it was just her imagination, but she swore she felt his body heat, heard the steady thump of his heart beating. Her own heart was hammering so hard that it felt as though it would beat its way out of her chest.
Shouldn’t a servant be doing that? she wondered as he poured her a cup and slid it in front of her. Then he finally backed away and returned to his chair, resuming the same casual, relaxed stance—and she took her first full breath since she’d sat down.
“Would you care for breakfast?” he asked.
“Please,” she said, though her throat was so tight, she could barely get air to pass through, much less food. But if she didn’t eat something soon, she would go into hypoglycemic shock. She just hoped she didn’t humiliate herself further. She was so used to eating at her desk in the lab, or in a rush over the kitchen sink, she was a little rusty when it came to the rules of etiquette. What if she used the wrong fork, or chewed with her mouth open?
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