Seduced by the Spare Heir

by Andrea Laurence

  “It doesn’t bother you?” she asked.

  “This isn’t my first romance documented in a gossip column. Nor is it yours, I’d wager. There’s nothing inflammatory about it, so why should I care? You’re not a dark secret I’m trying to hide.”

  “The press scrutiny will be higher now. They’ll question every moment we’re together. We’ll need to meet with your press secretary, Hector, to discuss how to handle it.”

  “I know how we’ll handle it,” he said, sipping his orange juice. “The palace will not comment on the personal life of the prince. Period. If and when I select a queen, I will announce it through the proper channels, not through some gossip column. They can speculate all they like. It doesn’t concern me.”

  Serafia sat back in her chair. She was near speechless. That was the most tactful and diplomatic thing he could’ve said on the subject. Maybe her lessons were finally sinking in. “That is an excellent answer. I’ll make sure Hector knows that’s the official position of the palace.”

  After a few minutes of silent eating, Gabriel put down his fork and looked at her. “What do you think about the article? You seemed to be more concerned about it than I am. Am I missing something?”

  “No, it’s not the content of the article itself, so much as being in it. I’ve lived happily out of the spotlight for years,” she explained. “Finding myself back in the papers was...unnerving to say the least.”

  “Do you regret last night?” he asked.

  Serafia’s gaze lifted to meet his. “No. But I regret not being smarter about it.”

  Gabriel nodded and speared a bite of tortilla with his fork. “Good. Then we can do it again.”

  * * *

  Lord, but Gabriel was hot. He would’ve been much more comfortable in the jeans and T-shirt he’d started the day in, but Serafia had made him change before they left Playa del Onda. Did Serafia give no thought when she selected his wardrobe that he would be touring the countryside of Alma in July? The vineyards were beautiful, and he really was interested in everything Tomás was telling him, but it was hard to focus when he could feel his back sweating under his suit coat.

  As they walked through the arbors, he turned to look at Serafia. She had her hair up in a bun off her neck. She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a linen shift dress in a light green that looked infinitely cooler than his own suit.

  “I’m dying here,” he whispered, leaning into Serafia’s ear. “I’m no good to anyone if I melt into a puddle.”

  “We’re going inside in a minute.”

  Gabriel sighed. “We better be or I’m going to look terrible if the press take any more photos.” There was a small group invited to the vineyard today. They’d taken some shots as he arrived and as they toured the fields and sampled grapes from the vines, but they had given him some space after that. They were probably hot, too, and waiting for the group to return to the air-conditioned comfort of the building.

  “Such a warm day!” Tomás declared. “Let’s head inside. I’ll give you a tour of the wine cave, and then we’ll get to the good part and sample my wares.”

  Gabriel’s ears perked up at the mention of a wine cellar. He was happy to go inside, but that didn’t sound like a place he was interested in visiting. “Did he say ‘cave’?” he asked as they trekked back up the hill to the villa.

  Serafia frowned at him. “Yes. Why?”

  “I don’t like going underground.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine. Just relax,” she insisted. “We really need a nice, uneventful visit today.”

  Gabriel snorted. She was optimistic to a fault. “Do you actually think that’s ever going to happen with me as the king?”

  She tipped her head up to look at him from under the wide brim of her white-and-green hat. Her nose wrinkled delicately as she said, “Probably not, but I’ll keep striving for it. Before long, I’ll be turning you over to your staff and going home. I hope they’re prepared.”

  They finally reached the top of the hill and stepped through the large doors of the warehouse. Inside, they were greeted by a servant with a tray of sparkling water and a bowl with cool towels.

  “Please, take a minute to cool off,” Tomás said. “Have you enjoyed the tour so far?”

  “It’s been lovely, Tomás. There’s no doubt that this is the finest vineyard in Alma,” Serafia said, sipping her water.

  She must not have trusted Gabriel to say the right thing. “It’s a beautiful property,” he chimed in. “How many acres do you have here?”

  “About two hundred. It’s been in my family for ten generations.”

  “You withstood all the political upheaval?”

  Gabriel felt Serafia tense beside him. He supposed it was impolite to ask the residents of Alma how they managed to cope with the dictatorship, but he was curious. Some fled, but most made the best of it somehow.

  “My great-grandfather refused to abandon his family’s home. It was that simple. To survive, we supplied our finest wines to the Tantaberras and were forced to pay their heavy commercial taxes, but we survived better than others. We had a commodity he wanted.”

  Lucky. Gabriel sipped the last of his water and after dabbing his neck and forehead, returned the cloth to the bowl. “And now?”

  Tomás smiled brightly. “Much better, Your Grace. Now we are finally able to export our wines to Europe and America. Before, we were restricted by heavy trade embargos that punished us more than the dictatorship. The free trade of the last few months has had a huge impact on our sales and profits. We were able to hire more staff and plant more grapes this year than ever before. We are prospering.”

  Gabriel smiled. He had nothing to do with the changes, but he was happy to see them. Serafia had impressed upon him how hard it had been on his people since the Montoros left. He was glad to see the course reverse so quickly with the Tantaberras gone.

  “Are we ready to continue?”

  Gabriel was not, but he followed behind Tomás, anyway. A few of the journalists joined them as they walked through the warehouse to a heavy oak door. Tomás went down first with a few others, leaving Gabriel standing at the top of the stairs with a sense of dread pooling in his stomach. His hands clutched the railing, but his feet refused to take another step.

  “Go!” Serafia urged him from behind.

  He could see Tomás standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him with a few reporters. The light was dim and the air cool. Their host had an expectant look on his face as he stood there waiting for Gabriel to follow.

  Serafia nudged him in the back with her knee and he took a few steps down without really wanting to. It was only two more steps to the bottom, so he forced himself to go the rest of the way down. At the very least he needed to keep going so that the ladder would be clear for his escape. Right now Serafia, a vineyard assistant and a few other reporters were behind him.

  Gabriel took a labored breath and looked around him. The room was bigger than he’d expected. The long corridor with its arched ceiling stretched on for quite a distance. Dim gold lights were spaced out down the hall, providing enough light to see the hundreds of barrels stored there.

  The air was also fresher than he’d anticipated. He looked up, spying air vents that led to some type of ventilation system. At least the room didn’t smell of stale bread and mildew. But it didn’t need to. Gabriel’s brain easily conjured those smells. Dank, musty air filled his lungs, tainted with the stench of his own waste and leftover food that was rotting in the corner of his prison.

  “This is my pride and joy,” Tomás said, taking a few steps down the rows of barrels. “This is a natural cave my family found on the property. It was perfect for storing our wine barrels, so we didn’t have to build a separate cellar. My great-grandfather added the electrical lighting and ventilation system so we can maintain the perfect temperature and humidity for the wine.”

  He continued to talk, but Gabriel couldn’t hear him. All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. T
here were no windows, no natural light. He hated that. He couldn’t even stand his room at the palace with the dim light and cavelike conditions.

  It was all too much. He could feel the walls start to close in on him. He could feel the rope chafing his ankles. Beads of perspiration that had nothing to do with heat formed on his brow and on his palms. He rubbed his hands absently against the fabric of his light gray suit, but it didn’t help. They were starting to tremble.

  “We have nearly five hundred barrels—”

  “I have to go!” Gabriel announced, interrupting Tomás and pushing through the crowd to reach the staircase. He ignored the commotion around him, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the ground floor.

  There, he could finally take a breath. Bending over, he clasped his knees and closed his eyes. He breathed slowly, willing his heart rate to drop and his muscles to unwind. He stood upright and turned when he heard the stampede of footsteps coming up the steps behind him.

  “Your Majesty, are you well?” Tomás approached him, placing a cautious hand on his shoulder.

  Gabriel raised his arm to dismiss his concerns. “I’m fine. I’m sorry about that. I don’t do well in closed in spaces.”

  “I wish I had known. I would never have taken you down there. Señorita Espina didn’t mention it.”

  “She didn’t know.” Not really. He’d explained about his kidnapping the night before, but he hadn’t expressed how much things like small spaces or wrist watches bothered him as a result. He didn’t like talking about it. To him, it felt like a weakness. Kings weren’t supposed to have panic attacks. He didn’t mind being flawed, but he hated for anyone, and especially Serafia, to think of him as weak.

  “Gabriel, are you okay?” Serafia asked, coming to his side with concern pinching her brow.

  “I just needed some air. Sorry, everyone, the heat must’ve gotten to me,” he said more loudly to the crowd that followed him.

  “I think what you need is a seat on the veranda with some wine and food to reinforce you,” Tomás suggested.

  They followed the crowd into the villa, but before they entered, Serafia tugged at his jacket and held him back. “What was all that about?” she asked once they were alone.

  As much as he hated to tell her, he needed to. He couldn’t have another incident like this. “I’ve developed a sort of claustrophobia since my kidnapping. I can’t take small or dark spaces, especially underground ones like the room where I was kept. I have panic attacks. It’s the same with watches. I can’t bear the feel of things against my wrists.”

  Serafia sighed and brought her hand to his cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Gabriel covered her hand with his own and pulled it down to his chest. When he looked into her dark brown eyes, he felt overcome with the urge to tell her whatever she wanted. He wanted to be honest with someone for the first time since he came home from Venezuela. Serafia was the one person he could trust with his secrets.

  “Because I’ve never told anyone.”

  Eight

  Serafia got up early the next morning, slipping from Gabriel’s bed to get ready. An hour later she returned and started sifting through his clothes for the perfect outfit.

  “It’s seven-thirty,” he groaned as he sat up in bed. His hair was tousled and as the sheets pooled around his waist, Serafia couldn’t help stealing a glance at the hard muscles she’d become accustomed to touching each night. “Why are you up so early clinking wooden hangers together?”

  With a sigh, she turned back to the closet. “I’m trying to figure out what you should wear today for the parade.”

  “I’m going to be in a parade?”

  It was becoming clear to her that in the early days of working together, Gabriel had paid very little attention to what she’d said. The prime minister’s office had arranged for a full week of activities and Gabriel had been briefed on them in detail while they were still in Miami. And yet each day was like a surprise for him.

  After the incident at the vineyard, Serafia was afraid to know if Gabriel had a problem with parades, too. She didn’t dare ask. “Yes. As we discussed in Miami,” she emphasized, “they’re holding a welcome parade for you this morning that will go through the capital of Del Sol.”

  “Are there going to be marching bands and floats or something?”

  “No, it’s not really that kind of parade.” She pulled out a gray pin-striped suit coat. It would be too hot for his ceremonial attire and that was better saved for the coronation parade, anyway. A nice suit would be just right, she thought. Eyeing the ties, she pondered which would look best. She knew Gabriel would be more inclined to skip the tie, but that wouldn’t look right. She frowned at the closet. The more she got to know Gabriel, the more she realized she was trying to force him into a box he didn’t really fit in, but he was still royalty and needed to dress appropriately.

  “People are just going to stand out on the sidewalk and wait for me to come by and wave? Like the pope?”

  Serafia looked at him with exasperation and planted her hands on her hips. “You’re going to be the king! Yes. People want to see you, even if it’s just for a moment as you drive by and wave. It won’t be as big as your formal coronation parade, but it gives everyone in Alma the chance to come and see you, not just the press or the rich people at Patrick Rowling’s party.”

  “For their sake, I hope there are at least vendors out there selling some good street food,” he muttered as he climbed out of bed.

  “Get in the shower,” Serafia said, laying the suit out across the bed.

  Gabriel came up behind her and pulled her into his arms, crushing her back against his bare body. “Wanna get in there with me?” his low voice grumbled into her ear.

  Serafia felt a thrill rush through her body, but she fought the reaction. They didn’t have time for this now, as much as she’d like to indulge. There were thousands of people already lining the streets in the hopes of getting a good spot to see Gabriel. She turned in his arms and kissed him, then quickly pulled away. “Sorry, but you’re going it alone today,” she said. “We leave in less than an hour.”

  She was amazed they were able to keep to their schedule, but everything went to plan. They rendezvoused with the rest of the motorcade a few miles away from the advertised route. Gabriel was transferred to a convertible where he could sit on the top of the backseats and wave to the crowd. Royal guards and Del Sol police would be driving ahead of his car and behind, with guards running alongside them.

  “Remember,” Serafia said as he got settled in the back of the car. “Smile, wave, be sure to turn to look at both sides of the street. People are excited to see you. Be excited to see them, too, and you’ll win the hearts of your people. I’ll see you at the end of the route.”

  “I thought you might ride with me.”

  Serafia shook her head. “You’re Prince Gabriel, soon to be King Gabriel. As far as anyone else knows, I’m your social secretary. Social secretaries wouldn’t ride along on something like this. We don’t need to give the newspapers any more material to put into their gossip columns. So no, I’m not going with you. You’ll do fine.”

  Ignoring nearly everything she’d just said, he leaned in and gave her a kiss in front of fifty witnesses. Hopefully none of them had cameras. “See you on the flip side,” he said.

  Serafia shook her head and climbed into another car that was driving ahead to ensure that the route was clear and to secure the end rendezvous location.

  Looking out the window, she was impressed by how many people were lining the streets. Thousands of people from all over, young and old alike, had come to the capital to see Gabriel. Some held signs of welcome; others had white carnations, the official flower of Alma, to throw into the street in front of Gabriel’s car. Their faces lit up with excitement and anticipation as they saw Serafia’s official palace vehicle drive down the road, indicating that the new king would soon follow.

  They needed a reason to smile. The Tantaberras ha
d ruled over these people with an iron fist for too long. They deserved freedom and hope, and she sincerely believed that Gabriel could be the one to bring it to them. He wasn’t the most traditional choice for a king, but he was a good man. He was caring and thoughtful. There might be a rocky start, but she could tell these people were desperate for the excitement of a new king, a new queen and the kind of royal baby countdown that the British had recently enjoyed.

  Serafia spied a different sign as they neared the end of the route. A little girl was holding up a board with Gabriel’s picture and her own. Across the top and bottom in blue glitter it read “We need a fairy tale romance! King Gabriel & Queen Serafia forever!”

  A few feet down, another declared “We have our king, please choose Serafia as our queen!” This one was held by an older woman. A third declared “Unite the Montoros & the Espinas at last!”

  Serafia sat back in her seat in surprise. Although she preferred to avoid the press in general, the tone of the earlier article about her and Gabriel had been positive. The crowd here today seemed to corroborate that. They had their king and now they wanted their fairy tale. But her? Serafia didn’t need to be anyone’s queen. She was done with the spotlight.

  The only hitch was her growing feelings for Gabriel. She’d never planned them. If she was honest, she hadn’t wanted to have feelings for him at all. And yet, over the last two weeks, he had charmed his way into her heart. She wasn’t in love, but she was closer than she’d been in a very long time. Her time with Gabriel was coming to an end. Soon he would be on his own, transitioning into his role as king. Serafia planned to return to Barcelona when it was over.

  But as the time ticked away, she felt herself dreading that day. What was her alternative? To stay? To let her relationship with Gabriel grow into something real? That would give the people of Alma what they wanted, but it came at too high a price. Serafia didn’t want to be queen. She was done with the criticism and the magnifying glass examining her every decision and action.