He kissed her forehead, taking a deep breath after he did. “Good night, Mia Belle. Happy birthday. I’m so glad I got to spend it with you.”
She gripped his shirt with her fist, staring at the collar rather than his eyes. “What if I don’t want to say good night yet?”
“Is there something else you wanted to do?” She could hear the confusion in his voice.
“Yes,” she whispered.
And then she kissed him again.
Chapter 30
With her sunglasses on, no one could suspect Lizbeth was staring at the well-muscled arms slicing through the water in the pool of their Ravenzarian home. If anyone questioned it, she’d pretend to be asleep. Not that anyone would.
Conner. She’d learned his name the night before at dinner. He was from the States but didn’t offer up much more information than that. She didn’t know how he knew her father or what he was doing in Ravenzario in the first place. It wouldn’t surprise her to know her father had set it up. Probably hoping they’d end up in the sack together so he’d have some reason to force this guy to marry her or something equally ridiculous. One day she’d need to have enough courage to tell her father to stick it, to just disappear, and live her own life instead of constantly wondering if he was manipulating her.
Conner had obviously spent a lot of time in the pool. He cut seamlessly through the water doing multiple laps of all four different strokes, though he did far less butterfly than he did of the others. She’d never really learned to swim beyond private lessons as a child. She could swim well enough to not drown in most water, but nothing like what Conner could do. Maybe he would teach her. She’d asked Malachi once but he’d shrugged it off.
And none of it explained Conner’s presence or why her father had sent her down here. The royal family would be arriving at the mountain home today and the rest of the invited guests would come early Saturday for the weekend’s festivities. One of her father’s assistants had informed Lizbeth her flight from Ravenzario would leave at five in the morning.
Five in the morning should be illegal.
Anything that required waking up before eleven should be illegal.
Conner’s nylon/Lycra covered rear end appeared for a split second as he flipped into a somersault and started back down the pool. After half of forever, he climbed out of the other end of the pool and wrapped a towel around his middle before using the other one to dry off with. When he started to walk her direction, she actually did close her eyes, at least until he blocked her sun.
She slid her sunglasses up until they pushed her hair back. “Can I help you?”
He seemed to be quite pointed in staring at her face and not her bikini-clad body. “Can you tell me where to get the best food in town?”
Feeling bolder than she normally did, Lizbeth batted her eyelashes a bit. “I’d be happy to show you some of the local sites and the best places to eat.”
His face hardened further. “I don’t need a tour guide. Just directions.”
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the lounge chair. “It’s more fun with a friend.”
“We’re not friends.”
This time she stood, close enough to him to feel the warmth radiating off his skin before he took a step back. “We could be.” She picked up her crocheted tunic swim cover-up and pulled it on over her head. Her swim suit would still be fully visible and it only came to her upper thigh, but maybe he’d quit being so stand-offish if she wasn’t wearing just a bikini-and it wasn’t even close to the skimpiest one she owned. What would he be like if she wore that one? “Fine.” She shrugged. “I know most of the restaurant owners and can get you the best stuff that’s not on the menu, but if you want to go it on your own, I’ll write down a list of places.” She walked away, a bit of an extra swing in her hips, knowing he would be watching.
Even as she did it, Lizbeth knew the admiration for her physical attractiveness wouldn’t make her feel better about herself.
“Fine. Come with me,” he yelled after her as she reached the top of the spiral staircase leading to the landing outside her room. “Just put some clothes on, would ya?”
Lizbeth smiled to herself. Maybe there was something to the “if you got it, flaunt it” way of thinking after all.
* * *
A few days later, Malachi opened the door of their apartment at the country house to let his wife enter first. “Home sweet home away from home,” he said as she set her bag on the table. When the door closed behind him, he stood behind her, wrapping his arms around Jessabelle’s waist. How different from the last time they were there on their wedding night. A smile crossed his face as he buried his head in the side of her neck. They’d come so far.
“What’s our schedule like for the next couple of days? Everyone else gets here when again?”
“It’s just the family today and tomorrow. The next day, I know the Bences are coming, but I’m not sure who else. I think a couple of other families will be here, along with Queen Christiana and several of the family members from Montevaro.”
Jessabelle was quiet for a moment. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Of course.” He kissed the place where her shirt met her neck. “Name it.”
Her words came out in a rush. “Don’t be alone with Lizbeth?”
Malachi blinked. “All right.” He turned Jessabelle around in his arms. “You know nothing has ever happened with her, right? And nothing ever will.”
“I know. But I can’t shake the feeling that she has some underhanded plan of some kind.”
He pulled her closer. “I don’t think that’s Lizbeth’s style. Her father? Very possibly, but not Lizbeth.” Brushing a kiss to the side of her head, he let her go. “But if it concerns you, that’s all that matters. I’ll make sure I’m not alone with her.”
She leaned up a brushed a kiss of her own against his cheek. “Thank you.”
Malachi checked the schedule on his phone. “We have breakfast with the family in about half an hour. Do you need to change?”
“Yes. Debbie should be here in just a minute to go through the rest of the day with me.”
“I’ve got some business of my own to take care of, but I’ll see you in the breakfast room.”
She smiled, and he grinned back, kissing her soundly before he went to the office he used while here.
The morning passed uneventfully, though Malachi caught his father glaring at him a few times. What was that about? Because he and Jessabelle seemed different around each other? Because he knew his mother’s stance on PDA-she believed “public” was anywhere except behind closed doors-Malachi had done his best to keep his distance, but he knew he wasn’t completely successful.
His mother though? He’d seen her smiling at them when Malachi whispered something in Jessabelle’s ear.
When they returned to their room later that evening, though, Malachi had a request for her. One he knew would be difficult for her to do.
“It’s a big year for my father,” he started as Jessabelle settled into her favorite chair to read before bedtime.
“It is?” She sounded curious.
“He’s fifty this year. There was talk of a big celebration, but his twentieth anniversary on the throne is coming up in a few weeks, so there’s going to be a joint celebration then. There will already be a holiday then so it was decided to make it a dual celebration.”
She probably already knew all of that, though, so her questioning look wasn’t a surprise.
“We were all asked to write him letters for his birthday.”
“So?” She shrugged.
“So you’re a part of the family now,” he reminded as gently as he could. “Everyone else has known about it since the first of the year, but no one thought to add you to the reminder emails.” Carson had been incredibly apologetic when he realized it earlier in the week.
Jessabelle turned back to her book. “I’ll think about it.”
Something about the set of her shoulders and the tone of h
er voice told Malachi that was the best he would get for now. With a sigh, he went back to rereading his letter one more time.
* * *
“He said what?” Conner spit out.
Lizbeth tried to keep a straight face as he doubled over with laughter. “You heard me.”
“Prince Stick-in-the-Mud did that?!”
“Yep.” This dinner was so much better than the other nights. They’d been wary around each other, but not tonight. Tonight, something had changed.
Maybe it was the day spent site seeing together where she’d made no passes at him whatsoever. Maybe it was the Ravenzario Ravenzinis they’d both been drinking, but whatever it was, they were much more comfortable together. So much so that Conner had asked her to dance and held her far closer than Malachi ever had. When they’d returned to their booth, he’d slid in next to her, trapping her on the inside.
And she didn’t mind one bit.
Lizbeth giggled and took another sip of her drink through the tiny straw tucked in it. “I wish I knew how to swim like you do.” She’d watched him do about a million laps again earlier in the day.
“It’s not that hard.” He leaned closer. “I can teach you.”
She stared up into gorgeous eyes. “You can?”
“Sure.” He stared at her lips long enough she thought he was going to kiss her, but he pulled himself away. “Let’s go.” He downed the rest of his drink in one swallow. “Maybe we can make some more of those back at the house. They’re good.”
Lizbeth followed him out of the booth and toward the front of the restaurant, her hand tucked in his. “I’m sure we can. We have the mix in the freezer.” Warmth invaded her body as Conner stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach as they waited for the car and driver to appear. He kept his arm around her the whole ride back to the house.
When they reached the front door, he stopped. “Wait. We need swimsuits.”
She giggled again. “We’re not skinny dipping?”
Conner tried to give her a stern look but failed miserably. “You can’t learn to swim properly in your birthday suit.” He put his hands on her waist and pulled her to him. Before she realized what was happening, he was kissing her. A hard, swift kiss. “Now go change.”
Waggling an eyebrow at him, she backed away. “Yes, sir. I’ll go change and meet you back down here to make some more Ravenzinis.”
He didn’t answer, but a glance backward showed him watching her. As she neared the top of the stairs, he called after her. “I liked yesterday’s swimsuit better!”
Of course he did. He’d complained about it the day before, but when she’d worn a full-coverage one piece, he wanted more. Without allowing herself to over-analyze it, she pulled her favorite suit out and quickly changed.
By the time she finished making a pitcher of Ravenzinis-these made with orange juice instead of the pineapple from the restaurant-Conner was coming down the stairs. She picked up two glasses and the pitcher, heading for the pool outside. A nearly full moon lit up the clear night sky, making it easier than usual to see. Instead of setting the pitcher on the table near the lounge chair she’d been in earlier, she set it on a table near the davenport surrounded on three sides by the curtains of a canopy.
She pulled a different cover-up off and tossed it onto the fully extended davenport.
“You ready?”
Lizbeth turned to see Conner standing next to the pool, the light of the moon giving free reign to her imagination and what those muscles would feel like up close. She poured two glasses of Ravenzinis before joining him. They each took a sip, without taking their eyes off each other. He’d moved one of the small tables close to the edge of the pool so they’d have somewhere besides the deck to set them.
“What’s first?” she asked.
“This.” Conner tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her.
Chapter 31
Christiana pinched the bridge of her nose. “You cannot come?” She listened to the man on the other end of the line. “We are supposed to be picking the wedding menu today.”
“I know, love.” The voice she loved warmed her insides. “I’m still picking up the pieces after your uncle’s arrest,” he reminded her again. “I have a meeting I can ill afford to miss today.”
“But you knew we were doing this. Why did you not make different arrangements?”
His exasperation came through loud and clear. “Meetings happen when everyone can be there. It wouldn’t have happened if I insisted on a different date or time, and I need this meeting.”
“And you could not tell them you were involved in planning your wedding?”
He spoke like he would to a petulant child. “You know the answer.” Christiana supposed she deserved that. She did know. “No one can know we are engaged until I get back on my feet. Otherwise, I’ll be accused of favoritism from you.”
“I do not understand why you need your business anyway. You will sell it after the wedding.”
“We’ve been over this time and time again, Chris. I will sell the business after the wedding so I can bring something to this marriage, so I can have something to call my own. My children will never have my name. At least I’ll be able to give them the proceeds from the sale twenty years from now. Well-invested, they’ll be able to live comfortably without depending on the royal wealth. I know your parents left you a fortune and a country when they died on that cliff, but I want more for my family.”
His words cut. He knew how much she missed her family, and to throw their death in her face as part of his excuse for not coming with her hurt deeply.
“You did get the dress I thought you’d like, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She’d hated every square inch of it.
“I’m so glad. I know the groom isn’t supposed to see the dress before the wedding, but when I saw it, I knew it was the right one for you.”
“Of course.”
“You’ll look smokin’ hot in it, Chris.”
Because that was precisely what she wanted to look on her wedding day. Smokin’ hot. Queen Alexandra would be scandalized, but Christiana no longer answered to the other woman as her psuedo-foster mother. It would be fine. It would. It would have to be.
“I’ll see you for dinner in a couple of days.”
“I will not be here,” she reminded him, again. “I will be in Mevendia for King Antonio’s birthday party.”
“Right.” She could hear the frown in his voice. “I don’t like it when you’re out of the country, Chris. It’s not safe.”
“I doubt I am in any danger while at their country home,” she chided gently.
“You were nearly attacked on Alexander’s property last fall, remember?” His voice took on an unwelcome tone she had never heard before. “That’s a big part of the reason why I don’t want to get married there.” He wanted to have the wedding at the country’s largest cathedral with crowds gathered in the streets. It was the one thing she had put her foot down on. Every monarch for centuries had been married in the chapel on what was now the Bayfield property. Given her insistence on the location, she would acquiesce on some of the other items.
“It is a tradition I cannot change, my love.” She hated disappointing him, but disappointing everyone in her country would be worse.
“Queen Christiana?” The voice behind her caused her to turn.
“Is that Alexander?” The angry voice on the phone drew her attention back.
“Yes. He is here to tell me it is time for me to leave for the food tasting.” She felt like a petulant child. “The wedding and reception are at his family’s venue.” She found herself reminding him just to be a bit mean.
“And you know quite well how I feel about that.”
“I need to go,” she told him. “I love you.”
“Very well.” He did not say good-bye but said he would talk to her later and hung up.
“Are you ready, ma’am?” Alexander’s voice brought her back to her office in the palace.
“Yes, Alexander. I am.” She would have to placate her fiancée later.
It was time to plan their wedding by herself.
* * *
“I never knew swimming could be so exhausting,” Lizbeth complained to Conner as she stretched out on the davenport.
“When all you do is get in the pool long enough to cool off, it doesn’t take much effort.” He propped himself up on one elbow next to her. “We forgot towels.”
She closed her eyes and yawned, her arms stretched far over her head. Linking her fingers behind her head, she stared up at the open sky above the canopy frame. “I used to sleep out here sometimes.” Warm memories of the few times she’d been here without nannies hovering flooded through her. “There’s something special about sleeping under the stars.”
Conner sat up and poured the rest of the Ravenzinis into their glasses. She rolled onto her side and took the glass offered. The open side of the canopy looked out into the Mediterranean. “What’s that?” he asked pointing toward the sea.
A flashing light caught her attention. “There are boats out there.”
He frowned. “Can they see us?”
“I doubt it. They’d have to have high powered binoculars or a telescope and want to watch us first.”
“I still don’t like it.” He moved to the end of the davenport and pulled on the sashes holding the two sides of the canopy back, letting them settle into place before he faced her. With his head propped on his hand, he took another sip of his drink. “There. Privacy.”
She shook her head sadly. “It was private before.” Lizbeth finished the last of her drink and rolled onto her back, reaching out to set it on the small table. “Are you sure you don’t want to protect our privacy from the space station?”
“Nah.” He finished his drink and set the glass on the table on his side. “I think we’re safe from them.” His hand skimmed down her arm and along the skin of her side until he reached her waist. Though the sun had gone down hours earlier, and he’d long since cooled down from its effects, her skin burned where he touched her.
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