by Mindy Neff
She closed her eyes, hating this particular train of thought. Good night, she had the man poised with one foot in the grave already.
And he was definitely alive.
And making her come alive.
Making her unable to resist. No matter what her head said, her heart spoke a different tune.
“You are thinking deep thoughts, I think.” His thumb swept over her bottom lip.
“It’s a curse.”
“Ah, no. A man would be hard-pressed to find faults in you.” His fingertips traced the upper swell of her breasts. “You are so beautiful, Chelsa Lawrence.” His eyes asked the question. He would go no further without consent.
“Someone might see,” she whispered.
“No. We are alone.” His lips brushed hers, so lightly.
She rose on tiptoe, clung, wanting more. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
She felt him grin against her lips. “Ah, querida, you wound my ego. You have forgotten last night so soon?”
“I don’t mean... I mean, out in the open, in the water.”
“Nor have I. Shall we experience a first for both of us?”
Oh, she liked the sound of that. She didn’t imagine there were many firsts she could experience with Antonio. He was a man well traveled, well lived.
She took a step back, eased the straps from her shoulders, down her arms, let it skim her torso and pool at her feet.
The arrested look on his face as she stood before him in only a brief pair of lace bikinis gave her the courage to stand proud.
He leaned against a fern-covered boulder as though needing support. “Dios, you steal my breath, my thoughts.”
He watched her with an intensity that was so strong, almost too strong. She ached, throbbed, felt embarrassed, and shy...and bold.
Turning, she stepped into the water, surprised it didn’t sizzle with the way her blood was scorching her veins. Every nerve-ending she possessed was screaming at fever pitch as she looked back at him.
Slowly he pushed away from the rock and began unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes never leaving her.
She couldn’t look away. He looked sexy and dangerous—she’d never known that the sight of a man undressing could be so erotic.
Her heart pounded when he moved toward her, slowly, proudly, his steps measured and sure, filled with purpose....filled with a single-minded, sensual intensity solely for her. Both a challenge and an invitation.
And more than anything, she wanted to meet that challenge, accept the invitation. Her mouth went dry and she licked her lips. His eyes flared, and his jaw went rigid. His intent fairly shouted, making her tremble. The power of this man scared her... thrilled her.
For endless moments, time seemed to stand still as she waited, watched, anticipated. Water rippled and lapped at her breasts as he came closer, reached for her, and brought her into his arms.
Exactly where she wanted to be. Where she wanted to stay.
His lips caressed, sipped, teased. He seemed to sense the strength of her need, and without question or apology his thigh pressed between hers, making her burn, making her ache in new and wonderful ways.
Water spilled off a shelf of rocks, pouring into the lake like a sheet of glassy silk. She hardly noticed when it rained over her head, soaking her hair, because Antonio was right there to sip the moisture from her skin, from her face, from the tips of her breasts, feasting as though it was the sweetest nectar and he was a man dying of thirst.
Her nipples were pebble hard, pressing against his chest. His tongue did clever things to her ear, her neck, raising chills along her flesh. Water swirled and caressed, heightening the incredible sensuality. She moaned when he eased her panties down her legs, feeling free, open, decadent and filled with urgent need.
She pressed against him, aching, needing to assuage the ache. It felt as though a scream were building in her chest, something powerful that needed an outlet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung.
If there was one thing she’d learned in the past year it was that nothing was for certain. Her time with Antonio was uncertain.
The silent scream turned to a lump in her throat.
“Make love to me, Tony.” Love, not sex. Let me pretend.
“Ah, bella, I am.” His accented voice was gravelly with a need that matched her own. Yet he paused, searched her features as though he were reading her thoughts.
She closed her eyes, not wanting him to see the strength of her emotions. Her love. She wouldn’t do that to him.
The feel of his touch changed subtly, became exquisitely gentle, impossibly reverent, as though he understood the importance of the moment. Tenderly, thoroughly, in silence, he fitted their bodies together and entered her, taking her on a journey of passion so sweet, so exciting, there was no room for words or thought.
Cocooned between the sheet of cascading water and the rock wall of the grotto, he made love to her as though she were made of the most precious, fragile glass. His deep brown eyes held a tender, quiet sense of understanding, as if he’d looked into her soul and seen every secret, every triumph and every failure.
And in this special Eden, with the cool splash of water surrounding them, he unearthed the secrets, celebrated the triumphs, kissed away the hurt and shame of failures, gave her hope.
He gave her the gift of himself with a sensual poignancy that moved her to tears.
* * *
Something had changed between them, but Chelsa couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. There was a silent reserve to Antonio as they walked back to the palace, a silence that held a profound quality. It made her uneasy, uncertain, and yet it made her hope.
Maybe there could be a chance for them after all. She glanced at him, the lack of conversation stretching her nerves. Would it be so wrong to probe a little, to see if he’d open up? She decided to give it a chance.
“I can’t believe we did that out in the open and—” They’d made it as far as the grand hall before she looked down. “Oh, my gosh! The front of your pants is all wet!”
The gentle amusement in his eyes accompanied the deep dimple in his cheek. “I did not want to leave your sexy panties floating in the lake for the ducks to drag about.”
“So you put them in your pocket? Antonio—” She stopped when she heard a familiar voice coming from the parlor.
A man’s voice with a slow, lazy, Mississippi drawl.
Her heart gave a deep thud, bringing her crashing down to reality. Stolen moments in paradise were at an end.
“I think it’s best if we don’t tell Chelsa.”
That comment sent her blood rushing. Without regard for privacy, not even bothering to knock, she stepped into the room. “Tell Chelsa what?”
Cole, Joseph and Detective Mitch D’Ambra whipped around in unison. All three men appeared to have been struck mute. At any other time, she might have laughed at their comical expressions.
“Why are you here, Mitch? Has something happened?” She remembered asking him to check on her parents. “Oh, no.” A wave of dizziness assailed her. “My parents...”
“They’re fine,” Mitch assured before she could finish. Concerned, he moved toward her, then stopped, sandy-blond brows raised when he saw Antonio put a supportive, possessive arm across her shoulders.
Antonio extended his free hand. “We have spoken on the telephone. I am Antonio Castillo, and may I assume you are Chelsa’s detective from Vicksburg?”
“Not hers exclusively,” Mitch said with a boyish grin that would surely cause women’s hearts to flutter. “But close enough. Glad to meet you. I’m right pleased y’all have moved to the palace.” His deep, Southern accent gave him a friendly, approachable air, but undercurrents of steel were evident in his sharp blue eyes.
“We thought it was for the best.”
Chelsa glanced from Mitch to Cole and Joseph. She had an idea all this “getting to know you” stuff was a stalling tactic. And Cole Martinez appeared to be holding something behind
his back. To a man, they looked like a bunch of cats with the cream still on their whiskers. “What is it you all don’t want to tell me?”
Cole heaved a sigh and exchanged a look with Joseph. Both men knew and respected the stubbornness of women. Their wives had taught them well. “She has a right to know,” he said for Mitch’s benefit, then stepped forward and handed her a slip of paper. “Try not to touch it too much.”
They intended to dust it for prints, she surmised. A weight of dread settled in her stomach. There would be no need as far as she was concerned.
She recognized the stationery.
Rick’s.
It said something about his state of mind, his brazenness, that he’d send a missive that blatantly shouted his identity.
Gingerly holding the buff-colored paper by the edges, she glanced down at the familiar handwriting. Her hands trembled and the words blurred.
Antonio steadied her, held her and read over her shoulder.
The warning was short and to the point, and Chelsa felt as though she were holding a venomous snake in her hands.
“You will have found the quarter and know its meaning. Don’t think you can hide behind your classy prince. It will be a sad day for the sports world, but I promise you, I’ll cut him down to get to you. You can’t run, and you can’t hide. Watch for me, darling.”
Even though Tony’s warmth was at her back, she shivered, feeling chilled to the bone, trapped in the icy fingers of shock.
My God, they’d been making love out in the open—she’d been putting Antonio Castillo at risk.
Dimly she heard Antonio swear, felt his arms tightened around her. As much as she wanted to lean into him, to beseech him to make it all go away, to make it better, she couldn’t.
None of her rationalizations would work anymore.
Fairy tales were her business, but she’d never let herself dream for the realization of one.
Until just recently.
With Tony.
The sinister words on the paper before her blurred into an inky blob as her heart sank like a cement weight in her chest.
With her head in the clouds she’d let down her guard, allowed herself to dream, allowed herself to want it all.
The fairy tale.
The prince.
Oh, not the castle and title and all the royal hoopla that went with it, but the love, the utter single-minded devotion she sensed deep in her heart that Antonio could give.
But if she reached for the dream, she would relegate his life to the status of hers. He, too, would forever be looking over his shoulder because of Rick. Rick would use Antonio to hunt her, use his popularity of being revered in the limelight.
Just as he would use Emily and Sophie if she gave him the chance.
She could control the surroundings of her children, try to keep them safe, even if it meant running for the rest of their lives.
But she couldn’t control Antonio—or the royal family—from conducting their lives in the open...
In plain sight of a mad man.
Coming to a decision, the only choice she could make, she stepped out of his comforting hold and carefully handed the paper back to Cole.
“The girls and I will leave right away.”
“No,” Antonio said, turning her to face him. “You will not. This letter is nothing but a scare tactic. You are still safest here.”
Safest. That single word left a wide margin of doubt. “Rick is unstable, Tony, and he means what he says. We can have fingerprint tests run till the cows come home, but I know his handwriting. He wrote that warning and he managed to get it here—” She glanced at Detective D’Ambra. “I assume it was delivered here?” There was always the possibility that Mitch brought it with him.
Mitch nodded. “Cole and Joseph showed it to me when I arrived.”
“And why did you, by the way?” she asked. “Arrive, that is.”
He shrugged. “A hunch. I got frustrated when Vicksburg lost your ex-husband’s trail. I had some vacation time wastin’ away and figured I’d come on over and check on you, spend a little time with Martinez.”
Come on over, as in cross an ocean, Chelsa thought. What the slow-walking, slow-talking detective didn’t say, but what was very evident, was that he’d been worried.
And he had every right to be. Now, more than ever, Chelsa had to convince Tony, the daredevil who had no fear, that there was indeed something to fear.
If not for himself, then for his family.
She reached out and touched the front of Antonio’s shirt, her eyes pleading for understanding, her brain memorizing every detail of his handsome face. He had a hero’s heart, and he would stick by his vow to protect her.
But the stakes were too high.
She drew in a trembling breath, gathering every bit of emotional strength she possessed. The time had come to step away, and it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do in her life.
Because she loved him she had to let him go.
“If Rick can get a sick warning note through the guards, he can find a way to get to you or your family. I don’t want to be responsible for that.” Her mind made up, she glanced at Cole. Fear was like a living entity within her, but she tried to ignore it, tried to be strong.
“Cole, could I impose on you to find me a discreet way out of Valldoria? The girls and I can be packed and ready in about twenty minutes.”
She noticed that Cole glanced at Antonio, as though seeking permission. That upset her. Damn it, every man in the room was looking at him as though he were king. Had they all forgotten he only claimed to be the spare?
With a frustrated sigh, she turned toward the door.
Antonio’s soft words stopped her in mid step.
“If you insist on leaving, I will follow.”
She swallowed back wimpy tears and whirled around, her nerves stretched past the breaking point. Didn’t he know what this was doing to her? “Don’t be an idiot!”
Three sets of male brows shot up at her calling the spare prince an idiot. Well, so what. If he wouldn’t have a care for his own safety, somebody had to run the show.
Prince Joseph laughed, breaking some of the tension in the room. “Please, Chelsa, do us the honor of staying. Not many can render my brother speechless and I, for one, am quite enjoying the entertainment.”
She figured it would be stretching the bounds of protocol to tell a crown prince where to go.
Antonio, apparently, had no such problem. He said something rude and terse to Joseph, never taking his eyes off Chelsa, pinning her to the spot with the force of his gaze.
“My promise still stands. If you leave, I will follow.”
“Your threat, you mean?”
“Take it as you will.”
Like two predators faced off in battle, neither one willing to give up territory, they stared at each other.
Chelsa was the first to back down. She huffed out a sigh, feeling boxed in, feeling relieved and scared and so mixed-up, she couldn’t lock on to a single emotion for more than a fleeting second. “I’m trying to protect you, Tony. And your family.”
“I have told you before, querida, I can take care of myself. Cole will see to the family.” He stepped closer, took unfair advantage with both his words and his touch. “Think of your children, Chelsa. Stay.”
“Don’t pull that on me again.” The demand was a weak one. Why couldn’t she be stronger? It was awful to deliberately, continually, drag these people into her private hell.
“Stay,” he said again, softly.
She closed her eyes. “This is my fight.”
“Stay.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I will, when you agree.” His palms cupped her cheeks, his thumb lifting her chin.
She met the determination in his brown eyes, knew she was no match for it.
Knew that he was right. As much as she was loath to put them all in danger, the prospect of harm befalling her children was too horrible to bear. At least here they had a b
etter chance.
The only thing she could do was agree.
But in agreeing, she would have to avoid Antonio, isolate herself.
If Rick found a way in and came gunning for her, she had to make sure no one else was in the line of fire.
And creating that distance would serve two purposes. It would prepare her for when she and Antonio truly had to part, would make it easier.
And she could tell herself that all she wanted, when she knew darned well it was a lie.
It would never be easy to part from Antonio.
Chapter 14
Chelsa was definitely avoiding him, which left Antonio in a constant state of frustration. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent so much time with his family—although he was a little surprised by how much he enjoyed it.
A week had passed with no threat or sign of Rick Lawrence. Regardless, it was ridiculous for her to avoid him—particularly since he knew she was doing it out of some misguided attempt to protect him.
¡Dios! Did the woman not understand about a man’s pride? He would have to remind her of the water baby story of masculinity. Well, perhaps that one wasn’t the exact example he was looking for, but it was close. And damn it, he wanted Chelsa close.
His heart actually stumbled when he looked up and saw her coming out of the solarium—the room she’d been using to do her writing. He’d even wandered in there a time or two and checked her work in progress.
It seemed Valldoria was good for her—her stories were coming alive. The latest segment had already been delivered to the post office by one of the palace guards.
But All Work And No Play was a motto that made him itch under the collar. And by the looks of the shadows beneath Chelsa’s eyes, it was wearing her down.
The sight of that weariness made his heart turn over in his chest. He wanted this ordeal over with, wanted Chelsa by his side, carefree, happy. She deserved an easier time.
He stepped into her path. “Rescue me, bella.”