“Why?”
“I am not sweet.”
“And you accuse me of not being able to take a compliment?”
“The stories I could tell would rupture your eardrums.”
She set down her fork and twisted to face him. “Says the man who walks through the bunkhouse twice a day to check on a stuffed camel, just to keep a little boy happy.”
“It keeps Remy from misbehaving, which keeps me from having to deal with him.”
“Right.” She made a show of rolling her eyes and laughed. “Like the way you were dealing with him at the barbecue. I saw you standing behind the grill listening to him. You were completely caught up in whatever he was saying.”
“Maybe he was confessing to stealing cookies from the kitchen and I was contemplating an appropriate punishment.”
She laughed again and gave him a playful shove. On instinct, he caught her hand. Her laughter faded and her smile faltered. When she looked up at him, the play of emotions in her wide eyes unsettled him.
“Why are you scared of me?”
“Why would you ask that?” Her chin jerked. “I’m not scared of you.”
“You are.” He said the words quietly. “This afternoon, you gave me that same look when we were dancing.”
“There’s no look.”
Oh, there was a look. As he ran his thumb along the side of her wrist, it intensified. It was fear. And interest. It wasn’t the type of interest he’d seen before, when women like Claudine and Sylvie perched on his lap at private parties, nor the type he encountered at palace dinners, when socialites approached him in a cloud of expensive, understated perfume with flirtation in mind.
Frannie’s interest was more complex, as if she were trying to analyze her own attraction. And it was attraction. He knew with absolute certainty that she wanted him.
So what frightened her? His reputation?
Or was she still upset by his behavior in the library, though it’d happened two months ago?
He couldn’t blame her on either count.
He let his gaze travel from her face to the straps of her bright yellow sundress, then down the smooth, lightly bronzed skin of her arm to where he’d captured her hand in his. Gooseflesh rose on her arm. “Does it bother you when I touch you like this?”
“Of course not.”
He met her gaze once more, ensuring he had her attention. “I would never hurt you, Frannie.”
She leaned toward him, resolve steeling her gaze. Her words were deliberate. “I know that. I’m not scared of you. I don’t know why you think I would be.”
“Because I want to kiss you right now. I think you know it. I also think you want me to kiss you. That’s what scares you.”
Her lips parted in surprise, then her chin dropped and she pulled away from him, folding both her hands in her lap.
“Alessandro.” An ache tinged her voice as she whispered his name, then she raised her face to his. “I know you’re used to flirting with all kinds of women. It’s a game and it’s fun. I understand that. But I’m the serious, straightforward type. The flirting game isn’t one I’m used to playing.”
Pain lanced his chest at both her tone and the loss of contact. He took a moment to gather himself, to mentally push down the emotion, then said, “This isn’t a game, Frannie. Nor is this the palace library. I’m not going to grab you and kiss you in a misguided attempt to prove a point. In fact, I won’t kiss you at all. I just…I don’t like seeing that look of doubt in your eyes when I enter a room. I want you to know that when I compliment you, I mean it. When I make a promise, even if it’s as simple as promising to save a slice of cake for you, I’m going to deliver.”
Her gaze was suddenly shrewd. “That day in the library…what point were you trying to prove?”
He hesitated, realizing what he’d admitted, but there was no going back. “I don’t like being measured against Vittorio, particularly when it comes to our roles as members of a royal family. I’ll always come up short.”
“I did that, didn’t I? That was my mistake.”
“Yet a little bird told me that you actually said, ‘you’ve gotta be shitting me,’ when you saw me walk into the compound with Tommy.”
A muscle in her cheek twitched. “A little bird named Chloe, I imagine.”
“She found it hilarious, which is why she told me about it, but I suspect you were quite serious. You weren’t happy to have me here.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Her face flamed. “But you’re not your brother. I knew it then, and I definitely know it now. Not being Vittorio doesn’t mean that you’re less than he is. In fact, since you arrived here, you’ve shown that you’re much, much more.”
Before he could tell her that he possessed a perfectly healthy ego and that he wasn’t fishing for a compliment, her fingers went to his knee.
“Anyone who doesn’t value your strengths or see your big heart is a fool.”
Then she leaned forward and kissed him.
Chapter 13
If Frannie went strictly by logic, kissing Prince Alessandro Barrali was stupidest choice she could make. But he was right…she did want him to kiss her.
When he’d grabbed her hand this afternoon, told her to forget the party cleanup, and demanded she dance with him, she’d thrilled to the invitation. He’d made her feel alive. Whether he was laughing at Irene’s choice of music or swinging the toddlers into the air, she’d been unable to tear her attention from him. He had a knack for showing her how to live in the moment that made her want to spend every one of those moments with him.
Her hours with Joe pushed thoughts of Alessandro to the side, but didn’t eradicate them. Even while she’d been on the phone, waiting on hold during her attempts to locate safe shelter on high ground, her thoughts had turned to Alessandro. Then, when she’d entered the dining hall, his presence at the table drew her like a magnet.
He’d paid close attention as she’d outlined the contingency plans for the storm. He’d been the first to study the assignment sheet, had listened intently when others asked questions, and hadn’t blinked when she’d asked him to help Tommy with the generator shed. When he stayed behind to ensure she was all right and to offer the banana cake, she’d felt as if he’d seen beyond what she’d said to the group to understand her apprehension about the upcoming storm.
That simple, thoughtful action melted her heart.
She wasn’t scared of him; she was scared of herself. How could she not be, when a slice of cake made her choke up?
As she leaned forward and brushed her lips over his, she was more scared than ever. For the first time in her life, what her heart wanted trumped what her brain told her was the proper course of action. She could lose herself to a man like Alessandro Barrali. It had nothing to do with the fact he was from a royal family or that he was wealthy as sin. It had everything to do with the man she was coming to know here at the shelter.
A man who’d return to a robust life in Sarcaccia in September, while she remained here until every child found a home.
She tightened her hold on his knee and gave him one more testing kiss. She’d never made the first move with a man before, but dammit, she wasn’t going to regret this, no matter what logic said. For once, she was going to live in the moment, even if he didn’t kiss her back.
The hard muscle of his thigh jumped beneath fingertips. A low groan escaped him. He buried his hands in her hair, knocking loose the haphazard bun she’d created while dancing that afternoon, and kissed her back.
It was nothing like the hot, aggressive kiss he’d given her in the library, when he’d trapped her beneath the Morisot and teased her lips with his tongue, daring her to open to him. That kiss left her breathless, confused, and embarrassed. It tortured her in her sleep and made her wonder what she should’ve done differently…though she constantly changed her mind whether the best choice that day would have been to return his kiss or to somehow avoid it entirely.
This kiss was like a blast of sunshine after
a long bout of bone-chilling cold. Soft and comforting, yet all-encompassing. She opened to him, and he angled his head to deepen their connection, warming her to her core with the most tender, romantic kiss she’d ever experienced.
He pulled away, but kept his hands tangled in her hair, holding her forehead to his.
“Frannie.” His whisper was dark, a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch. His chest rose and fell, once, twice…and his breath went ragged on the second exhale. “Oh, Frannie, what are you doing to me?”
It was a chastisement and a warning.
She didn’t care; the risk had already been taken.
“Shh.” This time, when her lips touched his, he didn’t hold back. In a single motion, he pulled her into his lap, his arms locking her in place. He slid one hand along the low scoop of her back, then wadded the fabric of her sundress into his fist and kissed her with a ferocity that left her dizzy.
He was all heat, power, and need. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as firmly as he held her. Her breasts fit perfectly against the hard planes of his chest. She wished she could melt into him and he into her.
Dear God, it was as if she’d been born to kiss this man. Without thought, she moaned into his mouth, her senses overwhelmed by the clean, masculine scent and taste of him. He smiled against her lips, but it was quickly replaced by an all-out assault as his tongue swept hers, sending an intense wave of desire through her.
His hands moved over her spine and a rough sound escaped him. Then he was kissing her neck, her collarbone, her bare shoulders. Slowly, passionately, savoring each new spot as if memorizing her contours. The rough scratch of his jaw dragged along her skin and the sensation nearly undid her. She arched against him in response.
This one moment, this one feeling…it could fuel her fantasies for a decade.
If he carried her to her bed right now, she wouldn’t object, though the mental image of crossing the compound with him made her wonder how many times he’d done such a thing over the years, going straight from kissing a woman to bedding her.
She wondered if any of them were special. If she were special. Or if he was just alone on a remote island and she was convenient.
His lips teased the sensitive spot behind her ear; a shudder coursed through him, so powerfully she felt it in his fingertips, then she heard whispered words she’d never imagined coming from him. “You are so perfect, so strong, so pure of spirit. Bella, bella.”
The beautiful part she guessed he’d uttered before, but there was a poignancy to the way he said it that made her doubt he’d said it quite like that. She was certain he’d never said the rest of it.
She couldn’t help but sigh at his heartfelt words. At knowing that this moment was as meaningful to him as it was to her.
His lips met hers once more for a deep, satisfying kiss. Just as she felt his erection against her hip, he relaxed his hold on her and pressed a kiss to her temple before giving her a bittersweet smile. “This is probably not wise, given that Remy could come looking for Humphrey at any moment.”
“Or Walter could come in search of cake.”
He swept her hair from her face and laughed. “You haven’t eaten yours.”
“I was busy.”
“Too busy for Pearl’s banana cake? I take that as a high compliment.” He shifted, moving his legs so she slid from his lap to the bench, though he kept her in his embrace. “I think it’s obvious now that there’s something between us.”
“Altruism?” she joked.
“Not by my definition.” His brows knit as he studied her. Desire shone in his honey-brown eyes, making her want to lean into him again. “Frannie Lawrence, you are unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”
“And nothing like your type.” She said it in jest, but in her heart, she knew it was true. She combed his hair from his forehead. It’d grown in the weeks he’d been at the shelter, leaving him with a rough-around-the-edges look he never sported during his public appearances in Sarcaccia.
“I believe my type is changing. I…I’ve never enjoyed a kiss like that one.” He turned his head and pressed his lips to the soft skin at the inside of her wrist, then took her hands and folded them between his. She didn’t miss the scraped knuckles or raw patches of skin along his forearms, likely the result of working with Tommy. “Thank you for making me see what I’ve missed.”
It struck her as the oddest thing to say. His tone made it sound as if he wanted to thank her for passing the salt at dinner. The thought must’ve shown on her face, because he added, “I’m going home for my brother’s wedding soon. When I return, I’ll only have two weeks remaining on my term before I head home for good. I suspect my mother suggested I come here because she admires you and wanted me to learn from you. Not to take you to my bed.”
“We aren’t in your bed.”
“No, but not because I don’t want you there.”
A jolt of pleasure rocketed through her. She pursed her lips, then teased, “If you’ve never slept with a woman before, you should know it’s perfectly normal to be nervous about how you’ll perform.”
The smile he gave her stilled her breath, it was so sexy. “Now Vittorio would appreciate that comment.”
They sat quietly for a few breaths before he said, “I am in awe of you, Frannie. I’m more attracted to you than you can possibly know. If I were a different man, in a different position, I’d beg you to go out to dinner with me. I’d wine and dine you under the stars. I’d treat you the way you deserve to be treated, like the wonderful woman you are.”
Her stomach flipped, then sank. She looked to where his hands enveloped hers. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
“But,” he acknowledged, “I can’t change who I am, and I’m not the right man for you. I told you I would never hurt you, and I’m going to keep that promise, just as I kept my promise about the cake. You deserve far better than me, no matter how much we may be attracted to each other.”
She blinked. Better than Alessandro Barrali?
He raised her fingertips to his lips for a soft kiss, then set her hands in her lap. “I’m going to go to bed. Alone. It’s what’s best for both of us. Promise me you’ll eat every bite of that cake?”
“I promise.” How else could she respond, when he left so much unsaid? She’d never been kissed like that in her life, and she doubted it was mere skill and experience on his part. He’d felt the pull between them as powerfully as she had.
He stood, then strode away from the table. As he opened the door, he said, “Good night, Frannie. Let me know what you need over the next few days and I’ll do it. In the meantime, I’ll pray for good weather.”
The clap of the wooden door against its frame rattled her.
She turned to her cake, picking at the top with her fork before finally taking a bite. It was sweet and decadent, everything she’d expected given Pearl’s talents.
It took forever to swallow.
She set down the fork, put her elbows on the table, then pressed her thumbs to the inside corners of her eyes. Once she knew she could restrain her tears, she carried the cake to the kitchen, covered it, and hid it at the back of the second refrigerator, on the top shelf behind the pickles.
She’d keep her promise tomorrow.
* * *
Alessandro swore under his breath when his hammer blow landed right of the nail, narrowly missing the tip of his index finger.
“Break your fingers and you’ll be useless to all of us.”
Alessandro stepped away, holding the nail in one hand and the hammer in the other. He used the back of one arm to swipe sweat from his brow, then glanced at the afternoon sun. Thick, humid air had settled over the island, a precursor to the storm.
He glanced at Tommy, who continued hammering away on the other side of the generator shed. “If I break a hole in the side of the shed, I’ll be worse than useless. Think I’ll take a water break. Want anything from the kitchen?”
Tommy shook his head, but when Alessandro r
eturned from the kitchen, he brought two bottles of water and two cookies.
“Pearl?” Tommy asked.
“Of course. Figured you might change your mind about wanting anything if you saw me eating in front of you.”
Tommy finished securing the board at the base of the shed, then crossed to where Alessandro had taken a seat on a nearby rock. He swigged half a bottle of water before taking a bite of his cookie. The mechanic grunted in satisfaction, then ate the rest of the cookie as he circled the generator shed, assessing the work necessary to complete their task.
It’d been nearly forty-eight hours since Frannie informed the staff of the possible storm. Sunday had passed quietly. After an early morning mass followed by breakfast, the older kids used the day to catch up on school reading while the adults made discreet preparations. The kitchen staff reworked their menu for the week, front-loading the fresh ingredients to minimize loss, planning for meals that could be packed for evacuation, and locking away dry goods. Storm shutters were checked, benches secured, roofs inspected.
This morning, when the storm hadn’t turned, Frannie asked the teachers to mention it during the first hour of class. Thankfully, the kids took the news in stride. The wind rose as school let out, causing many of them to cast their eyes to the sky, but that was the limit of their concern. The afternoon progressed as every other Monday since Alessandro arrived. Most of the students busied themselves with schoolwork in the dining hall, the low hum of their conversations carrying across the compound from the open windows. Those who’d finished occupied the gazebo, swinging their legs from the bench seats and chatting while they waited until enough kids had finished to pull together two teams for kickball. The Latu siblings and their cousins, the Sapanis, had packed their belongings and would depart after dinner.
All was going according to Frannie’s schedule. Efficient, predictable, calm.
Alessandro polished off his cookie and rose from the rock. If Frannie could maintain her usual routine, he could do it, too.
The Wicked Prince Page 14