A Royal Temptation

by Charlene Sands

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes clear now. “I wouldn’t hesitate. It sounds far too exciting to pass up.”

  “Then let’s pretend that we’ve just met. There was no amazing kiss from before. We haven’t danced and spent time together. This is a business meeting. And I promise to keep things completely professional between us.”

  “Why is it so important to you?” she asked.

  “Because, I...I see how much you want to say yes. I see that you’d love to locate the secret artworks.”

  “And you promise that after we discover this wonderful treasure, we’ll just be friends?”

  He let a split second go by. He was a man of his word. If he promised, he’d have to adhere to his vow, regardless of how much he wanted things to be different.

  “I promise, Princess.”

  She nodded. “I know you mean what you say. So yes, I accept your offer.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Portia informed the concierge that she’d be checking out earlier than expected from Villa Delgado and offered her thanks for his accommodations. He’d questioned her, hoping she hadn’t been disappointed in her stay, and she assured him that was not the case. She’d been called away unexpectedly, she explained. And his brows arched as if he’d suspected King Montoro had something to do with her sudden departure.

  And so, her adventure was beginning. Dressed for the search, wearing a pair of Gucci jeans and a red plaid shirt tucked in and belted at the waist, she swopped out her Bruno Magli shoes for tall leather boots and stood outside the villa at precisely eight o’clock. Sunglasses shielding her eyes, her bags packed and ready to go, she gave one last glance to the Atlantic shoreline and the clear azure waters lapping the sands. There would be no five-star accommodations where she was going. She was told to expect rustic and that was fine with her. She’d gone camping before; she knew how to rough it.

  Sort of. Jasmine had convinced her once to rent a motor home and they’d trekked as far as Pismo Beach, California. They’d parked the giant thing facing the ocean, and then had gone out for lunch and dinner every night. They’d hit a few clubs, too, dancing until dawn. So maybe that wasn’t roughing it per se.

  But they had cooked their own breakfasts and hiked the beach in the mornings. Did that count?

  One of Juan Carlos’s bodyguards drove up in a black SUV, right on time. Poker-faced, he promptly opened the door for her and she got into the backseat as he hoisted her luggage into the cargo space.

  As they drove off, she sat quietly in the car, enjoying the sounds of morning, excitement flowing through her veins.

  She’d taken Juan Carlos at his word. He would treat her as a professional and so she had nothing to fear and everything to look forward to. Her little heartfelt speech seemed to convince him that she wasn’t looking for romantic involvement. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been hard admitting her failings to him. He’d put her at ease and that was saying something, since she didn’t go around revealing her innermost feelings to anyone but her best friend.

  They drove away from the shore, through the streets of Playa del Onda and onto a highway that led inland. “Excuse me. When will we be picking up King Montoro?” she asked Eduardo, the driver-slash-bodyguard.

  “His Majesty will be meeting you there,” he said.

  Ah...discretion.

  “Is it a long drive?”

  “Not overly so. We should arrive in less than an hour. Is there anything you need, Princess?”

  “No, no. I’m perfectly comfortable.”

  She gazed out the window taking in the scenery, where residential streets were soon replaced by more rural-looking spaces. As the minutes ticked by, the groomed vegetation bordering the road gave way to untamed brush and wildflowers. There was a certain neglected beauty to the land that inspired her. The road though was becoming less and less car friendly. The tires spit broken gravel as they traveled along a bumpy country road.

  “Sorry, Princess,” Eduardo said. “The road is washed out from here on.”

  “Is it much longer?”

  “No, just another mile or two.”

  And shortly, he turned onto a path and drove through wrought-iron gates clawed by fingers of dead branches and vines. Weeds and overgrown scrub led to a two-story house in desperate need of a good solid paint job. Banging sounds reached her ears and she searched for the source as the car came to a stop in front of the house. Juan Carlos appeared on the porch holding a hammer, his shirt slung open and sweat glistening on his beautiful bronzed chest. His dark hair gleaming under the October sunshine, he gave her a wide welcoming smile.

  She sucked oxygen in. If she could slither away in a trembling mass, she would. She could order Eduardo to turn the car around, drive and keep on driving until she forgot the exact chestnut color of Juan Carlos’s eyes, the deep dark shine of his hair and the powerful rock-solid muscle of his body.

  She bit her lower lip until it pained her.

  As he made his approach, she bucked up and remembered why she was here, and the promise Juan Carlos had made to her. Now, if she could get her heart to stop racing...

  “Welcome,” he said, opening the door wide for her. He offered her his hand and helped her out of the car. Eyes shining, his smile broadened. “I hope your trip wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

  “No, no. It was fine,” she said, looking beyond him to the house.

  “Sorry about my appearance.”

  She nearly choked on her own saliva. Was he kidding?

  “I found some loose planks on the porch. They could be dangerous.”

  “You’re handy with a hammer?”

  “You sound surprised. Actually, I had a lot of odd jobs in my younger days. My uncle believed in hard work and I was always employed during my college years.”

  “Doing?”

  “All sorts of things. Remind me to tell you about the time I worked at a strip club in Miami.”

  “You were a stripper?”

  The image of him shedding his clothes made her mouth water.

  “I didn’t say that. But I sure got a quick education.” Her eye fluttered and he squeezed her hand. “There’s that wink again. I’m very happy you’re here, Portia.”

  “It’s not a wink,” she assured him.

  He smiled again and released her hand. Breath quietly swooshed out of her mouth.

  “Let me assure you, the inside of the house is in better shape than the outside. Bella and James had two bedrooms renovated upstairs and my crew made sure the kitchen and living space are clean and functioning.”

  She flinched at the mention of the bedrooms and slid a glimpse at Eduardo, who was removing her luggage, appearing stoic as ever. “That’s...fine.”

  She only wished that Juan Carlos would button his shirt so that she could breathe freely again.

  Eduardo stopped at the steps with her two suitcases. “Just leave them. I’ll take it from here,” Juan Carlos said. “Thanks, Eduardo.”

  The man nodded, but it looked more like a bow. “Your Highness.”

  Juan Carlos rolled his eyes.

  She chuckled. It would take him a while to get used to being royalty.

  “Stop laughing,” he whispered out of earshot of his bodyguard.

  “I’ll try,” she whispered back. “Not promising anything.”

  He shook his head but grinned like a schoolboy.

  She was up against massive charm and a killer body.

  “Let me show you around.” Juan Carlos took her arm and guided her inside.

  The living room was cozy with a large brick fireplace and old wood floors that looked as though they’d been scoured and polished. A new patterned rug was laid down between two sofas covered with floral tapestry pillows. The smell of fresh drying paint filled the room.

  “Come see the
kitchen,” he said, taking her hand. “It’s rustic, but I didn’t have the heart to replace everything. I’m assured the oven is in working order.” The oven was indeed, quaint and lovely. She could tell it, too, had been scoured to a new brilliance, but it must date back to the l940s. The refrigerator had been replaced, and the counters were chipped in places but the sink had passed the test of time. A kitchen table sat in front of windows overlooking the backyard grounds. Someone had recently plowed the area and planted a garden of fresh flowers and herbs so the immediate view was quite picturesque.

  “It’s charming the way it is.”

  “The refrigerator is stocked. Would you like a cold drink?”

  “Sure.”

  He opened the door and peeked inside. “Lemonade, soda, orange juice and sparkling water.”

  “Lemonade sounds good. I’ll get the glasses.” She flipped open a few cupboards and found them. It was obvious the dinnerware and glassware were all new, or imported from the palace. “Here we go.” She set two glasses in front of him on the counter and he filled them.

  A cool, refreshing swallow quenched her thirst and as she sipped, she strolled through the kitchen, exploring. She passed a utility room and then entered a large bathroom. Juan Carlos was just steps behind her and prickles of awareness climbed up her spine. She felt his eyes on her and as she turned slowly, he didn’t even try to look away. He was in the doorway, his arms braced on the doorjamb, his shirt hanging open loosely from his shoulders. All that pure masculinity in one man didn’t seem fair.

  He stared at her for long seconds, until regret seemed to dull the gleam in his eyes. She had the same regret. If only she was just a woman and he was just a man and they were here together, sharing a grand adventure.

  She swiveled around, pretending interest in a claw-foot tub, running a finger along the porcelain edge. “Makes you wonder about what life was like here when the farm was active.” She turned to him again. “Do you know if there were animals?”

  “Hmm. I think so. There are many outer buildings on the acreage. Supply sheds, barns and feed shacks. They owned livestock. Probably sheep, maybe cattle, but definitely horses. Do you ride?”

  “Horses? Yes, I do. I’m no expert but I know how to plant my butt in the saddle.”

  He smiled.

  “Will we be riding?”

  “Possibly. There’s five thousand acres here to investigate. Between the Jeep and the horses, we should be able to scour the entire grounds. The horses will be here this afternoon.”

  “Did your family ever live here?”

  “I don’t think a Salazar ever lived here. But a Montoro must have at some point. This land is all part of the Montoro holdings.”

  “Do you have any idea where to start looking?”

  “I’m thinking we should stick close to the house today and if we come up empty, we can venture out tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good. I have to admit, I’m eager to start.”

  “Okay, then I’ll get your luggage. Your room is upstairs at the end of the hallway. It’s been painted and furniture was brought in yesterday. Take some time to relax. I think you’ll like the room, but if there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine.” She’d roughed it with Jasmine, after all. She really could handle her own luggage, but His Majesty would never allow that. His sense of gentlemanly duty would become tarnished. And darn, if she didn’t find that amazingly appealing. “Thank you.”

  As she headed upstairs, a sigh escaped from her lips.

  Juan Carlos was a big juicy ripe apple, dangling his unabashed charm and beautiful body in front of her.

  And the wicked serpent in her head was daring her to take a bite.

  Four

  Portia’s room was more than adequate. A queen-size bed, adorned with Egyptian cotton sheets, a snowy comforter and pale pink pillows took up most of the space. Southern light streamed into the room through twin windows with ruffled curtains and an exquisitely crafted armoire made of inlaid mahogany and cherrywood held the bulk of her clothes.

  She glanced out one window to the unkempt grounds below. The Montoros owned all the land as far as her eyes could see. Would they find the hidden artwork somewhere out there? Her belly warmed to the idea. She was grateful for the opportunity to search for it.

  And ready.

  As she headed for the stairs, movement caught her eye from a room at the opposite end of the landing. Juan Carlos was in his bedroom, changing his shirt. Twenty feet separated them, and she immediately glanced away, but not before she caught sight of bare broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. She gulped and scurried down the stairs before she got caught ogling him.

  She wandered outside into the yard. Birds flitted between tree branches and flew away. She knew the bodyguards were out here somewhere, watching over the place, but she’d yet to see anyone else since Eduardo had deposited her here this morning.

  She heard the door open and close behind her and footsteps crunching the fallen leaves as Juan Carlos approached. “Where are they? I know they are out there somewhere,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Luis and Eduardo have orders not to disturb us unless there’s danger. They’re here, trust me.”

  “I’m not worried.” She put on a pair of sunglasses.

  “That’s good. How do you like your room?” He sidled up next to her. Dressed in jeans and a chambray shirt, with a black felt hat shading his eyes, he looked like a modern-day Spanish vaquero.

  “It’s better than I imagined, considering the state of the grounds around us. I’m sure you had a hand in making it comfortable for me.”

  He shrugged. “If you’re comfortable, that’s all that matters. Let’s check out what we can on foot. There’s a stable and a few broken-down buildings nearby.” He reached into his back pocket and came up with a pair of work gloves. “Here, put these on.”

  She slipped them on. “I’m ready.” And off they went.

  The stable was in ruins, like pretty much everything else on the property. As they entered, she spied a wagon wheel, some rusted harnesses and a stack of rotted grain bags. It didn’t seem as though anything could be hidden in here, but Juan Carlos touched every wall, kicked clean every stall and scoured the entire area with assessing eyes.

  She took his cue, and searched the outside perimeter of the building, looking for anything that could be used as a hiding place.

  He met her outside. “Nothing here. I didn’t think we’d find anything this close to the house, but we need to be thorough.”

  “Okay, where next?”

  “There’s some feed shacks farther out we should check. Are you up for a long walk?”

  She stared into his eyes. “You know that pea under my mattress didn’t ruin my sleep last night.”

  He gave her a look of mock concern. “There was a pea under your mattress, Princess? Twenty lashes for the chambermaid who made up your bed last night.”

  She grinned. “More like fifty lashes for the king who thinks I can’t keep up with him.”

  “Okay, I get your point. You’re not frail.”

  “Not one little bit. But I think your concern is sweet.”

  “And antiquated.”

  “That, too. But what woman doesn’t dream of a knight in shining armor once in a while?”

  He peered directly into her eyes. “Do you?”

  “I’m...not going to tell.”

  With that, she dashed ahead of him and hoped she was heading in the right direction.

  Juan Carlos’s laughter reached her ears, but he hung back a little, watching her.

  She came upon three outer buildings, each one fifty feet or so from the others. She was just about to enter one when Juan Carlos called out, “Portia, wait!”

  She whirled around.
He came marching toward her, making up their distance in long strides. “Let’s do this together.”

  He was being overprotective again. “I don’t see why I can’t—”

  “Humor me,” he said, sweeping up her hand and tugging her inside with him.

  The small shed was in better shape than the stable had been. Juan Carlos remarked on how it was a newer building, perhaps added on later as the farm prospered. The open door allowed a sliver of light inside the windowless and otherwise dark space. Juan Carlos released her hand and the tingles streaming down her arm finally eased.

  He got down on his knees and scoured the floorboards, looking for a trap door while she tapped at the walls. She tugged at a splintered hoe leaning against the far wall, moving it out of her way. A deafening hiss broke the silence. She looked down and saw a snake coiling around her boot. Panicking, she gasped quietly.

  Juan Carlos jumped up. “Don’t move!”

  She froze. Oh, God, no. “What should I do? What should I do?” The thing was moving up her leg.

  “Hold still, sweetheart. Trust me.”

  Juan Carlos reached into his boot and a glint of silver caught her eye. A knife?

  There was a flash of movement as he lunged forward, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He ripped the thing off her in seconds flat. When she opened her eyes, she saw that he’d slashed the snake’s neck all the way through. Juan Carlos tossed the dead reptile, head and all, across the shed. It landed with a smack and her stomach recoiled.

  She shook uncontrollably and Juan Carlos took her into his arms. “You’re okay, Portia. You’re okay, sweetheart.”

  Tears spilled from her eyes and she nodded.

  “Let’s get outside,” he said softly.

  “I don’t know if I can move.”

  “You can. I’ll help you.”

  She nodded. “Okay.” She clung to him as he guided her into the daylight. Fresh air filled her lungs and helped with her shaking.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, over and over, kissing her forehead.

  She held his neck tight. She’d never been so frightened in her life. It all happened so fast, but the thought of that thing crawling up her body would surely give her nightmares for days to come.