“Did you find that place?”
He laughed. “Never. Not until I came home. Though I traveled far and wide looking for it.” His expression turned serious. “I want Nicky to have that sense of belonging. To grow up breathing the air of his ancestral homeland, singing our songs and eating our food.”
Stella swallowed. He was getting carried away and she’d better set some boundaries right now. “I can understand why you feel that way, but you didn’t write any of that…” She leaned in and whispered. “In the sperm donor information.” She put down her fork. “Because if you had I wouldn’t have chosen you as the donor. You gave away the right to decide what happens to Nicky when you visited Westlake Cryobank.”
His eyes narrowed. “I made a terrible mistake.”
“We all have to live with our mistakes.” She could say she’d made one in choosing Vasco as Nicky’s father—except that now she had Nicky, the center of her world. “Don’t think you can tell me and Nicky what to do.” She tried to sound stern. “Just because you’re a king and from a thousand-year-old dynasty…” she gestured around the elegant chamber “…doesn’t mean that you’re more important or special than me and Nicky or that your needs and desires come first. We were raised in American democracy where everyone is equal—at least in theory—and I intend to keep it that way.”
Humor flashed in his eyes. “I like your fire. I’d never coerce you into staying. After a few days or weeks in Montmajor I doubt you’ll be able to imagine living anywhere else.”
“We’ll see about that.” Soft golden candlelight reflected in the polished glass of their goblets and illuminated the ancient sandstone walls around them. Already Montmajor was beginning its process of seduction.
And so was Vasco.
He tilted his head, smiling at her. “Let’s take a walk before dessert.” He rose and rounded the table, then extended his hand.
She cursed the way her fingers tingled as she slid them inside his. Still, she rose to her feet and followed him, heels clicking on the stone floor as she walked with him through a vast wooden double door into a tall gallery and out onto a veranda.
They stood high above the surrounding landscape. The last sliver of sun was setting in the west—to their left—and the mountains fell away at their feet like crumpled tissue paper. As the peaks disappeared into the mist she almost thought she could make out the shimmering glass of the Mediterranean sea in the far distance.
Hardly any sign of human habitation was visible. Just the odd clay-tiled roof of a remote homestead, or the winding ribbon of a distant road. “Amazing,” she managed when she caught her breath. “I bet it looked like this in medieval times.”
“In medieval times there were more people.” Vasco smiled, the sun highlighting his bronzed features and deepening the laugh lines around his eyes. “This area was a center for weaving and leatherwork. Our population is about half what it was in the tenth century. We’re one of Europe’s best kept secrets and I think most people here like it that way.”
His thumb stroked the outside of her hand and sent heat slithering up it. Again her nipples tightened inside her gray silk dress and she sucked in a breath and pulled her hand back. “What about schools? How are the children educated?” Anything to get the conversation on some kind of prosaic track, so she wasn’t falling prey to the seductive majesty of the landscape and its monarch.
“There’s only one school, in the town. It’s one of the finest educational institutions in Europe. Children here learn all the major European languages—now Chinese is popular, too—and go on to university at places like Harvard and Cambridge, the University of Barcelona. All over the world.”
“Don’t you lose a lot of well-educated people that way? When they go on to work in other countries.”
“Sure, for a while. But they always come back.” He gestured at the dramatic landscape around them. “Where else can you live once you’ve left your heart in Montmajor?”
Stella felt an odd flutter in her chest. The place was already taking hold of her. “I’d like to see the town.” She glanced at him. “There is a town, isn’t there?”
“We call it the city.” His white teeth flashed in the setting sun. “And it would be my great pleasure to give you a tour tomorrow. Let’s go finish dinner.”
She stiffened as he slid his arm inside hers. Really, she should protest at all these intimate gestures, but somehow that felt petty, when he might just think he was being a gracious host. People were different in this part of the world, more demonstrative and touchy-feely, and she didn’t want to come across like an uptight puritan when she’d chosen for her son to have Mediterranean heritage.
Her own elbow jostled against his soft shirt, and the hairs on her arm stood on end. In fact every inch of her body stood to attention as they strolled through a dimly illuminated forest of stone columns back to the candlelit dining room.
Their plates had been cleared and as soon as they sat—Vasco pulled out her chair, old-world style—servants appeared with gleaming platters of glazed pears and homemade ice cream.
Stella’s eyes widened. “I’m not going to fit into any of my clothes after a week here.”
“That would be a shame.” Vasco glanced up, mischief dancing in his eyes. “That dress fits you so beautifully.” His gaze flicked to her chest, which jumped in excitement.
She felt heat rising to her face. “I’ll have to do some exercise.”
“There’s nowhere better. Tomorrow we can ride in the hills.”
“On a horse? I’ve never ridden in my life.”
“You could learn. Or we could walk.”
“I like the second option. Nicky can’t walk too far, though. He’s only starting.”
“Nicky can stay with his new aunts while you and I stride through the landscape.”
She had to admit that sounded pretty good. “I used to walk in the hills all the time, but since I had Nicky it’s been hard to find the time.”
“Here we’ll have all the time in the world.” His smile broadened. “And we can do anything you like.”
The emphasis sent a shiver down her spine. Already her body had a few suggestions, mostly involving peeling those well-cut clothes off Vasco’s ripped and tanned physique.
What was it about this guy that set her on fire? Maybe his being Nicky’s father had something to do with it. There was already a bond between them, forged in blood, a connection with him that went far beyond their brief acquaintance.
And maybe the strange and worrying situation had set her nerves on edge, which made her emotions and senses all the more likely to flare up in unexpected ways. She’d have to watch out for that.
“When you look out the window tomorrow and see the sunrise, you’ll know you’ve come home.” Vasco’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. His eyes heavy-lidded, he looked at her over a sparkling glass of white wine.
“I’m not at all sure I’ll be awake at sunrise.”
“I could come rouse you.” His eyes glittered.
“No, thanks!” She said it too fast, and a little too loud. She needed to keep this man out of her bedroom.
Which might be a very serious challenge.
Five
Stella had rather dreaded seeing Vasco’s handsome countenance over the breakfast table the next morning, but found herself put out when he wasn’t here. Apparently he’d gone off on royal business and wouldn’t be back until late. So much for her tour of the town and walk in the hills.
Was she turning into a pouting, jealous girlfriend, when she wasn’t even his girlfriend?
“Ma!” Nicky played with the omelet the kitchen staff had made for him. “Cheerios!”
“Hey, you can say real words when you truly need something.” She wiped his chin. “But I’m not sure they have Cheerios here.”
“Cheerios!” He banged his spoon on the gleaming wood surface of the table, which made Stella seize his wrist and glance over her shoulder to see if anyone else had witnessed the desecration.
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“This table is very precious, sweetie. We have to be careful with it.”
“Cheerios, peez.” His big gray eyes now brimmed with tears. Why hadn’t she thought to bring some with her? She’d had a ziplock bag of them for the plane, but she hadn’t thought about people eating different foods here.
“I’ll go ask the cook, okay? We’ll find something.”
She left him at the table and pushed open the door that the staff seemed to appear and disappear from. She was a little alarmed to find a young man hovering right behind it. “Do you have any breakfast cereal?” She spoke in Spanish. He nodded and summoned her into a tiled hallway that led to a series of pantries. One of them turned out to be lined floor to ceiling with boxes of pasta, crackers and cereals, all imported from the U.S.
“For little Nicky,” he said with a smile. “His Majesty requested them.”
Stella bit her lip. How thoughtful. She pointed at the giant box of Cheerios on a high shelf. “Could he have some of those in a bowl—no milk?”
“Of course, Madam.”
She heaved a sigh of relief—or was it awe—and walked back to the table. Alarm filled her heart when she pushed through the door and saw Nicky’s chair empty. He always sat in a high chair at home but they didn’t seem to have one here.
“Nicky?” She glanced around the room. There was no sign of him. And so many doors he could have gone out through. Panic snapped through her. This palace was vast, and probably had plenty of high walls and ledges a child could fall off. It wasn’t safe to leave him unattended for a single moment in such a labyrinthine and nonchildproof space, and she’d have to keep that in mind from now on. “Nicky?”
She hurried out into the main hallway, and waved to an older footman. “Excuse me, I… My son…”
He simply smiled and gestured for her to follow him. More doors and stone hallways—they all looked alike, even though they weren’t—led to an interior courtyard with a large, round pool in the middle. A fountain bubbled water and her pulse began to return to normal when she saw Nicky floating a small wooden sailboat in the water under the watchful gaze of two of the “aunts.”
She heaved a sigh. “Thank goodness you’re here! Sweetie, please don’t take off without telling me where you’re going.” As if he could have explained it. Still, she wanted the women to know, since they must have brought him here. “Mommy needs to know where you are at all times.”
She gave the “aunts” a frosty smile. “This water looks rather deep.” She spoke in Spanish. They gave no sign of having understood. The fountain was lovely, but the patterned tiles at the bottom of the pool shimmered beneath a good foot and a half of water. Quite enough for a toddler to drown in if someone’s back was turned. She’d have to talk to Vasco about safety, so he could lay down some guidelines for the “aunts.”
“I found you some Cheerios, Nicky. Come have some.” She held out her hand. He glanced up at her, then turned his attention right back to the sailboat. It was quite an elaborate one with cotton rigging and a striped sail. “We’ll come back to the boat after breakfast.”
“No! Nicky sail boat.”
Her eyes widened at the longest sentence he’d ever said. “Have some Cheerios first.” Her eyes turned to the aunts in a silent plea.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Greco. He just ate two cherry pastries.” The smaller aunt—Mari—spoke in flawless, barely accented English. “And we’ll take care of him while you eat your own breakfast and do anything else you like.”
Cherry pastries? Not the most nutritious breakfast, but at least he’d eaten. And maybe she could go have hers quickly. “Are you sure?”
“I raised eight of my own children and there’s nothing I’d like better than to spend time with little Nicky. Frida feels the same and when Lilli’s back from her doctor’s appointment, she’d agree, too.” She beamed at Nicky. “He’s such a dear child.”
“Yes.” Stella bit her lip. “You won’t let him fall into the water.” It was a statement not a question.
“Absolutely not.” Frida’s reply showed that she spoke perfect English, too. Stella felt embarrassed for thinking they wouldn’t. Though Mari was already speaking softly to Nicky in Catalan, encouraging him to move one of the sails, from what she could gather. “Vasco tells us you restore antique books. We’re so lucky to enjoy your expertise here. I used to be a professor of medieval literature at the University of Barcelona, and I know this palace is a treasure trove.”
Stella swallowed. “Yes. I saw some of the library yesterday. Maybe I will go there now. We’ll have to have a long chat later.” She was far too flustered to talk now. These white-haired old grannies were more accomplished and educated than she’d ever be. Never mind what they could teach her son—she could probably learn a lot from them. “I’ll see you later.”
She kissed Nicky on the forehead, trying to ignore her maternal misgivings at leaving him in such capable hands. No worse than leaving him at the local day care, which she’d used regularly for work.
She spent the day in the library fondling impressive volumes dating back to the time of Charlemagne. Vasco had arranged for a selection of the finest restoration tools, including a vast array of delicate leathers and sheets of gold leaf, to be used for repairing or replacing damaged covers.
Just touching the books was a sensual experience. Reading the words, stories, poems and dramatic tales from history brought her imagination to life. She knew French and Spanish, and quite a bit of Latin and Italian, so she could understand and enjoy much of what she read in the same way the lucky residents of this palace must have done for generations.
She made mental notes of different things she wanted to show Vasco, because she thought he’d enjoy them: tales from his own family history, intriguing Montmajor folktales, even a journal of sorts written by a young king in the 1470s.
But Vasco didn’t show up that afternoon.
He was absent at dinnertime, which made her feel rather silly in the aqua vintage maxi dress Karen had chosen for her along with some pretty turquoise earrings. She ate alone in the grand dining room, wishing she’d shared Nicky’s feast of scrambled eggs and toast. Nicky was now tucked up in bed under the watchful gaze of a local girl. It was awkward sitting there as waiters brought dishes to her and refilled her glass, and she stared at the empty chair on the other side of the table.
Where was Vasco? Of course it wasn’t really her business. They weren’t involved or anything. Even if he was out to dinner with another woman, that was absolutely fine.
She swallowed more wine. Maybe she wasn’t so crazy about the idea of him carrying on with other women while she and Nicky were there. Couldn’t he save that for after they’d gone? They were his guests, after all.
He was probably at a party, schmoozing with wealthy aristocrats, and had forgotten all about them. Or maybe he’d flown off somewhere in his purple-seated plane, to spend a few days on someone’s yacht or attend a grand wedding.
Why did she care? She was busy and happy with the library and its amazing collection of books and manuscripts. So why did she glance up and catch her breath every time the door opened? And why did her heart sink each time she saw it was just the waiter again?
She only ate half of the pretty apricot tart in its lake of fresh cream. It seemed a shame to waste such carefully prepared and delicious food, but then it was also foolish to eat it if she wasn’t hungry and no one was here to share the pleasure.
She’d removed her napkin from her lap and was about to head upstairs to her room, when the door opened again. This time her startled glance and increased pulse rate were rewarded by the appearance of the man whose presence seemed to hover everywhere in the palace.
Gray eyes flashing, and hair tousled by the wind, Vasco swept into the room like a sirocco. “I’m so sorry I missed dinner.”
He strode toward her, long legs clad in dusty black pants. A white T-shirt clung to his pecs and biceps, revealing a physique more developed and chiseled than her wildest imaginin
gs.
She struggled to find a sensible thing to say, and failed. “Where have you been?”
He looked surprised, and she regretted her rude question. “I rode over to Monteleon, to visit an old friend. We got to talking and the hours slipped away.”
So that was the “royal business” he’d been called away on? Again she felt slightly offended. She wondered if the old friend was male or female, but she didn’t want to know that. “I found some interesting things in the library.”
“Oh?” He’d rounded the table, where he picked up her wineglass and drank from it. Before she had time to blink, a rather flustered male waiter appeared with a filled glass for him. He thanked the waiter, but as soon as the man had disappeared he looked ruefully at his glass. “I’m sure this won’t taste as good as one blessed by your lips.”
Then he sipped and walked on around the table, leaving Stella staring after him. How did he get away with saying stuff like that? She glanced at her own glass back on the table, and it suddenly seemed unbearably sensual to drink from it again.
“I thought I should start the restoration project by focusing on books and papers that directly relate to the royal family. I’ve found quite a few interesting things buried amongst the other books, and I thought you might want to organize them into a separate archive of their own.”
“Great idea.” He was now at the far end of the table, where he put his glass down and stretched, which sent ripples traveling through the muscles of his broad back.
Was he trying to taunt her with his impressive physique? He should know by now that she was the bookish type and didn’t notice such things. “Would you like me to show you the book I plan to work on first? After you have dinner, of course.”
“I’ve had dinner.” His eyes wandered to her cleavage, which swelled under his admiring gaze. “Though I wish I’d had it here instead. The view is much better.” His gaze drifted lower, which made her belly tighten, then to her hips, which had to resist a powerful urge to sway under his intense stare.
Claiming His Royal Heir Page 5