"Tell her she is beautiful."
"She is."
"But have you told her?''
"I am sure she knows it."
Leonard sighed. "You must tell her."
"I must? Then I shall."
"You must treat her special, like no one else does."
"Everyone treats her special.''
"Yes, I know. You have your work cut out for you there, I'm afraid. She's used to the very best. The An-delusion mare was a good start."'
William frowned. "She told me to take her back."
"Yes, but you didn't, and she still rides her, doesn't she?"
He nodded, deep in thought about what Moira liked. "She likes to study, to read books. She was absolutely delighted to watch a lizard the other morning."
"You shouldn't give her a lizard, Your Majesty."
He scowled at Leonard. "Do not mock me."
"Never, Your Majesty."
"I had thought about taking her up the mountain to see the view. She likes trees, and there are deer up there."
"Wow," Leonard mumbled.
"What?"
"I said, the road will need to be plowed if you intend to take her up to the snowcap."
"Yes." He felt renewed energy in his step. "Yes, I believe she will find that romantic. Leonard, have a hot meal planned at the summit. And a windscreen."
"I'll have everything in order. All you have to do is be charming and romantic."
"I can do that."
* * *
"You look quite beautiful today," William told Moira as he helped her into the limo.
She misstepped and bumped her head.
He scooted in beside her and patted her head soothingly, allowing the motion to change gradually into stroking her silky hair. He was glad she no longer knotted it into that skull-hugging braid. It was so much more delightful to touch this, to let his fingers slip through the waves.
She scooted across the seat, putting space between them, but he noticed that she still leaned her head toward his touch. "Mmm."
He did not have to ask what she purred about, and his hormones slipped into overdrive as he tried to figure out what his next romantic move should be. He knew what he wanted it to be, but pulling her into his arms and crushing her on the seat beneath him would only scare her.
It drove him wild when a woman tempted him, then withdrew. Perhaps it worked both ways. Using all of his willpower, he put his hands in his lap and resisted the urge to move closer to her.
If it drove her wild, she recovered quickly. On the drive to the summit, she practically glued her nose to the window as the forests of beech, maple, and oak gave way to pine. A misty cloud hung around one peak, and the driver rounded the hairpin turns with care.
"Wow, snow."
He wondered whether a snowball fight could be considered romantic. She had been raised in California, and he was not sure how it was viewed there, or whether they even had snow near where she had lived.
"Do you ski?" she asked.
He laughed. "If I do not, who picked you up when you were ten and insisted you could beat me in a race?"
"Oh, yeah."
"I will never forget. You had snow in your mouth and up your nose. You were all covered in white—"
"Never mind."
He realized he had just taken a step backward in the romance department. "And you looked like an angel."
Her rigid posture softened somewhat.
"You had lost your hat and your golden hair was all wild around your head, like a halo."
She looked stunned. "I don't remember that."
"Moira, my heart is wounded."
"I...I mean I don't remember losing my hat."
"I picked you up and skied down the mountain with you in my arms, and you said you felt as if you had wings."
"You're making that up!"
He chuckled, pleased that he had been able to win her attention and make her smile. One step back, two steps forward.
"We are almost there."
She looked out the window and oohed and ahhed at the view that opened up before them. Miles of pine-covered slopes lay below them now that they had topped the tree line.
"It's beautiful," she said breathlessly.
His heart lurched; he wanted to hear her speak to him in the same breathless tone, and not about some damned view. "Then I am glad I brought you here."
"Yes, thank you. The drive was a wonderful idea."
He did not tell her he had not been referring only to the drive. It was at his request for her hand that her father had brought her back to Ennsway. His promise to marry her and keep her safe.
The limo pulled to a stop at the summit, and Moira reached for the door.
"Button up," William warned. "It is cold and windy."
She pulled her white mink tighter around her throat and donned the matching hat Angela had pushed into her hands before they had left. There had been a tussle over which coat she was to wear today—Moira had not favored the fur—but after a look at Emma, she had given in. William did not understand. Emma had not said a word, just stood there with her hand on her necklace as if she had nothing better to do. But he was glad Moira had worn the fur. She would be warm, and he would have more time to be romantic.
"My God, you can see three hundred sixty degrees up here!" She ran through the snow and hopped onto a flat, sun-cleared rock. "Glacier-carved valleys, moraines. A cirque—is there a lake in it?"
One moment she was twirling around to see everything, the next she was sitting on her rear on the limestone, her hand to her temple.
He rushed to her side and landed on bent knee. "Are you all right?"
"Whew! Just a little light-headed." She laughed—a light, musical sound carried away by the wind. "I forgot about the thin air."
"You must be careful."
"Yes, I will."
"Come, we can sit by the windscreen, and you can look without falling down again."
He led her to the striped windscreen. There was a deeply cushioned seat waiting for them there, with a high back and sides that wrapped around to shelter them further, and just big enough for two people to cuddle on. In front of it was a fire to toast their feet.
William thought Moira looked impressed, but she said nothing as she sat and curled her legs up beneath her coat—on the far side, he noted favorably, not between them.
A footman unfolded a heated blanket on their laps.
"It's warm," she said in surprise.
He handed Moira the temperature control. Her head nearly spun off as she looked around to see what it was plugged into.
"The car, Moira."
"I knew that."
But he could tell by her surprise that she did not.
Thermal mugs of coffee were offered, and William scowled at Leonard. If they kept her warm enough, she would not need him to cuddle her.
"Is that a deer?" she asked.
"Where?"
She pointed into the distance, toward a lower slope. "Yes, I believe so."
Binoculars were offered over Moira's shoulder by yet another silent footman.
"Oh, thank you."
William was beginning to think he had brought along far too many people.
She peered through the binoculars, then took a moment to thank him. "William, you think of everything."
Her smile warmed him far more than the electric blanket, fire, and coffee combined.
She peered through the lenses into the distance again. "It is a deer!" She offered the binoculars to him. "Look."
Her excitement was contagious. Before long, she had him hiking around the summit with her as she pointed out sea fossils.
"You studied this in the United States?"
She nodded. "California's big on geology."
He watched longingly as she traced a fossil with the tip of her finger. If he closed his eyes, he could feel her doing the same on his skin. On his chest. Down his sternum, around his nipple..."William, you're not enjoying this?"
He wor
ked hard to keep his grin from being lascivious. "Oh, yes. I most certainly am."
"Are you light-headed then?"
"Dreadfully."
She took him by the arm, and he let her lead him back to their cushioned seat. "You should have said something. Here, sit and catch your breath." She tucked the blanket around his thighs, which just led to more delightful images. "I'll be back soon."
He grabbed her wrist. "Where are you going?"
"I've never seen fossils quite like those—"
"Stay." She looked doubtful, so he closed his eyes. "As soon as I catch my breath, I want to study them with you."
"You're interested in geology, too?"
"I own a whole mountain, do I not?"
She laughed at that, and he was able to tug her onto the cushion beside him.
They ate dinner there as the sun set. She melted against him, allowed him to pull her beneath his arm and share his warmth.
"I wish I had my camera," she whispered.
"We will come back anytime you want," he promised. He turned his head slightly and pressed his lips to her head, only to get a mouthful of mink. "Perhaps when it is warmer."
They remained there a short while, until he promised his hormones it would not be much longer and thus gained control so that he could stand and help her to her feet.
"I hate to go," she said.
"It will be dark in a few minutes."
"I know."
He heard the wistfulness in her voice and knew he had done well today. He had not accomplished his goal, not yet, but there was still the drive down the mountain in the dark. The car was chilly inside, which was quite unusual with a driver in attendance and heated seats, but William was not about to complain. Apparently his whole staff had plotted to help him convince Moira to set a date.
He pulled her close and ran his hands briskly over her arms. "Cold?"
She nodded.
"Are your teeth chattering?"
"I th-think so."
"Here, let me warm you." He pulled her tighter, pressed his cheek against hers. So soft.
"That's b-better."
"Most definitely."
"What?"
"It warms me, too."
She turned her head—to look at him more closely, he assumed. Not one to miss an opportunity, he brushed his lips very lightly over hers.
"Your lips are cold," he whispered against them.
"Um..." She ducked her head.
Her breath was warm on his skin and smelled of the sweet cinnamon dessert they had shared. He laid his hand along the side of her face, then let his thumb rest beneath her chin and tilt her head upward until her lips were accessible again.
She did not turn away. Instead, as he dipped his head and covered her lips with his, hers parted softly, allowing him to nibble and taste and caress.
"William..."
Finally, his name on her breathless whisper. His back grew stronger, his shoulders wider, his chest broader. Other parts of his anatomy expanded as well, and he reached around her legs to pull her onto his lap.
The limo lurched to the side, throwing them against her side of the interior with him on top of her. All he could think of after Boy, my staff is really good was One more lurch like that, and I will be cradled in a very nice spot.
The car continued to do just that. "Rockslide, Your Majesty. I have to swerve to miss the stones."
He nearly strangled trying to compose an appropriate reply to the driver's fabricated story. "Very good. Carry on."
Which was exactly what he intended to do. Oh, he would not steal her virtue in the back of his limo. But he would make her want him to.
"A rockslide?" she queried. "Isn't that dangerous?"
"Yes, let me protect you." He pressed his body over hers, crushing her into the seat. "Am I too heavy?"
"No."
Ah, that breathy quality again. It made him want to forget they were in the limo with a driver who could hear everything if he wanted to.
A solid thunk against the front fender startled him. "What the hell was that?"
"Rock, sir! Hold on!"
William heard another solid hit, this time on the roof. He vaulted to his knees and looked through the windshield. In the headlights, he could see boulders rolling down the slope and bouncing onto the narrow road. Some continued down the steep drop on the far side. Others came to a halt, threatening to trap the car before they could reach safety. He looked out the back window and saw no lights from the staff cars that had been following.
"There's an overhang ahead, sir!"
"Head for it," William ordered, then realized that was needless. Of course the driver would try to get them to a safe spot.
"Look out!"
In an instant, the headlights were gone.
Chapter Ten
In total darkness, with the limo headed who knew where on the steep mountain road, William's first thought was to save Moira, the future mother of his children. He felt perfectly justified in stretching himself out over her body like a protective blanket. Not that it would do much good if a really large boulder crashed through the roof, but he could keep glass from the windows off her as they broke.
"Keep your eyes closed," he ordered. He jerked at his buttons and spread the front of his coat open wide, making a tent over their heads and upper bodies.
He refused to feel helpless. His driver had grown up in the mountains and was as capable as anyone of getting them to safety if it was at all possible.
He tried not to relish the feel of her pliant body beneath his; it did not seem appropriate at this time. But her face was warm against his throat. Her breasts pushed against his chest. Her pelvis cradled his. Their legs tangled together. And every lurch of the limousine jolted him against her, making it impossible for him to think of anything else.
"You smell good," he whispered in her ear. "Like a coconut."
"Great." Her breath penetrated his shirt and warmed his collarbone. "We're going to die, and you think I smell good."
There was too much at stake, for both their countries, for them to be wiped off the face of the map like this. He had worked it all out so carefully, and King Albert had been persuaded that it was the right thing to do.
"We will not die. I will not allow it."
"Oh, goody." She twisted beneath him and shoved against his chest.
"Lie still," he crooned.
"Get off of me."
"Not until the danger is past."
She shoved harder. "We've stopped moving, William. Get off."
He raised his head to find that, indeed, the limousine was still. What was left of it anyway. The driver turned the lights on inside to reveal that the roof pressed in on them a foot lower than it used to be on the passenger side. All the windows were broken from the pressure; glass littered their coats, the seats, the carpet.
"Are you all right, Your Majesty? Sir? Ma'am?" The driver sounded dazed.
William heard no more rocks tumbling down the mountainside, threatening them. As Moira pushed him away, he turned over, braced himself and kicked at the door until it gave way. "We can get out now. Be careful of the glass."
He crawled out, then grasped her trim ankles and slid her gently along the seat until she could sit up and step out right into his waiting arms. He brushed glass out of her hair, off her shoulders. He had protected her, and he felt very much like a knight in shining armor who had saved his lady and earned her undying gratitude.
The driver kicked open his own door and joined them as the moon peeked out from its cloud covering. "In all my years, I've never seen anything like that, Your Majesty. Definitely not natural."
William plucked more glass out of Moira's hair. "Now do you believe someone is trying to kill you?"
She swatted his hands away.
"I do not want any glass to scratch you." It would be a shame to mar such beautiful skin. He reached for the front of her mink to find and release the hooks.
She slapped at his hands.
"Moira
, give me your coat. I will shake it out."
She placed her hand square on his chest and fully extended her arm between them. It was difficult to gauge the look in her eyes in the fleeting moonlight, but he did not think it was warm and grateful.
"It is all right now, Moira," he crooned. "The rock slide is over. We are safe."
"Safe?" It sounded like an accusation. "You think someone's trying to kill me, and I should feel safe?"
"Yes, it is all ri—"
"No, it's not all right!" She whirled away from him and stumbled over a small rock, but righted herself against the fender and shook him off again as he tried to pull her into the safety of his embrace. "No one ever tried to kill me before I got contracted to marry you."
"That may not be entirely true."
"Do you have a jealous girlfriend or something?"
"No, it is not that."
"Now—" she pulled herself up until her backbone was so rigid he thought it would crack under the press- sure. "—I demand you void: the contract before I do get killed."
"Ah, Moira."
"Immediately, William: I mean it."
"I cannot."
"You will!"
"Even if I wanted to, I could not. It is too late."
"Not if I'm not married, it's not."
"You do not understand."
"You got that right."
Such passion! He was grateful for the small bit of moonlight as she folded her arms across her chest and tossed her hair.
"The people of Baesland and Enrisway would not let me void the contract even if I wanted to. Which I do not." He took a chance and stepped closer to her. "Moira, I love you." Then another step.
"No!"
Her arm shot out again, landing smack in the middle of his chest, though he thought it was less rigid this time. He was relieved that his declaration had registered with her.
"You do not believe me?"
''It's just...the adrenaline talking," she said. "Like when people blurt it out during sex and don't really mean it." When he cast a doubtful look upon her, she added, "I learned about these things, you know. Biology 101."
He knew she was rambling, afraid to face his love. Doubtful of it. How could he not understand? Her mother had died when Moira was ten. Her father had sent her away to live in a foreign country, under the care of servants, when she was only twelve. Love was not something she would accept easily.
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