Claiming His Royal Heir

by Jennifer Lewis

  “It was strange eating all alone in this big dining room.”

  “I apologize for making you do that. I’ll make sure it never happens again.”

  She didn’t quite believe him. He was a flatterer who knew the right thing to say at any moment. Like his promise of taking her for a walk today.

  “Shall we head to the library now?”

  “Sure.” He walked back to her and slid his arm around her waist. Her eyes opened wide as a shiver of sheer arousal snapped through her. How many glasses of wine had she drunk? Surely it was only two, though it was hard to keep track when they kept refilling it for her.

  “I am dusty. Maybe we should stop by my room on the way so I can change. No need to add any dust to the considerable amount that must be on the books already.”

  His smile made her knees weak. She cursed herself for it. “No need. Did you ride your horse there?”

  “Many horses.” He grinned. “My bike. It’s a far better way to get around these mountains than a big royal sedan. The dirt is the only drawback. I should have showered before coming to find you, but I couldn’t wait.”

  Her cheeks heated under his glance, and she sucked in a breath. Her pewter shoes made an impressive noise on the stone flags of the grand hallway. Vasco turned to the right, in a direction she’d never been before. The carvings on the walls grew more elaborate and the floor turned into an intricate mosaic, which led to a grand, arched doorway.

  “The royal bedchamber?” She looked up at the embossed shield carved right into the stone above the door.

  “Exactly.” He made a courtly gesture with his hand. “Please come in.”

  She didn’t have much choice with his arm still tucked around her waist. A vast bed rose almost to the twenty-foot high ceiling. Heavy curtains hung from a carved wood frame. Candles burned in elaborate candelabra on each side of the room, throwing off a surprising amount of light.

  “They’ve invented something called electricity. Have you heard of it?” The host of candles made shapes and colors dance on the walls and ceiling.

  “These newfangled inventions never last. Much better to stick with what’s tried and true.” She saw his dimples for a second before he peeled off his white T-shirt to reveal bronzed muscles that made her jaw drop.

  When he unbuttoned his pants she turned away. “Maybe I should wait outside?”

  “No need. I’ll be ready in a moment.”

  He was doing this to torment her. And it was working. She couldn’t resist sneaking a peak in the age-clouded mirror than hung on a nearby wall. His tight backside looked very fetching in classic white underwear. His thighs were powerful and dusted with dark hair, and she admired them for a split second before they disappeared into a crisply ironed pair of black pants that seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

  He stretched again, causing her to close her eyes for a moment. No one needed that much overstimulation. When she opened them she was relieved to see his thick biceps hidden behind the creamy cotton of a collarless shirt.

  “Now I’m ready. Take me to your library.” He walked toward her, barefoot on the stone floor, a smile in his gray eyes.

  Stella swallowed. Her library? Obviously he’d decided it was her domain for the duration of her stay, which gave her an interesting feeling of pleasure.

  Vasco took her cold, rather nervous hand in his warm one, and they set off along the corridor. Even with her in heels and him barefoot she only came up to his cheekbone—and a dramatic, well-shaped cheekbone it was.

  Anticipation tingled through her veins as she switched on the low hanging lights in the library, illuminating the magical kingdom of books. She led him to the table where she’d started to arrange the volumes most in need of repair. One heavy tome, its delicate leather cover almost in tatters, sat apart from the others. Vasco ran his fingers over the rough surface, where the tooled gold had all but vanished under the wear of centuries of hands. “It’s a history of Montmajor.”

  “Written in 1370.” Stella laughed. “Rather amazing that they had so much to write already.”

  “We always have a lot to say about ourselves.” That mischievous white grin flashed in his tanned face. “And apparently we love to read about ourselves, too.”

  He flipped open the book with a casual hand, which almost made Stella want to grab his wrist. This book was six hundred and fifty years old, after all. Vasco began to read, his deep, rich voice wrapping itself around the handwritten Catalan words that she could almost understand, but not quite. Something swelled inside her as Vasco spoke the ancient words aloud with obvious enjoyment.

  He stopped and looked at her. “Do you know what it says?”

  “I need to learn Catalan. I know French and Spanish and a little Italian and it sounds to me like it’s a bit of all of them mixed together.”

  “It’s so much more than that.” His eyes narrowed into a smile. “I’ll have to teach you.”

  “That’s a big project.”

  “Then we’ll tackle it one word at a time.” He pressed a finger to his sensual mouth. “First things first. What’s the most important thing in life?”

  Stella frowned. “Good health?”

  Vasco shook his head. “Passion. La passio.”

  “La passio.” She let the word roll off her tongue, and decided not to start a debate about how crucial passion was to people who were starving. Kings clearly lived in a rather more gilded and hedonistic reality.

  “Ben fet.”

  “I’m guessing that means well done, since it sounds a bit like bien fait in French.”

  His grin widened. “You’re catching on. Soon you’ll be speaking it like a native.”

  She couldn’t help a little flush of pride. “I’ll do my best. I can’t help but feel la passio for the work I’ll be doing.” She glanced down at the lovely book and managed to restrain herself from moving Vasco’s large hand from the page. No need to bore him with her worries about natural oils seeping into ancient handmade paper and tiny microscopic creatures eating away at natural inks. “I plan to restore the cover first. I’ll preserve the original then make a leather slipcover that mirrors how it would have looked when new. Then I’ll go through page by page and stabilize the book. The inside is in surprisingly good shape.”

  “Which means it hasn’t been read enough times, yet.” He flipped a page and started to read again, letting his tongue wrap around the words, bringing them to life in the quiet library.

  Stella watched, entranced. Even though the book was about history, it was written in some kind of verse, and Vasco’s voice rode the cadence of the words in a sensual rhythm. She could figure out the meaning of enough words to recognize a description of a battle, lances flying and flags fluttering in the wind, horses galloping on an open plain. The vision of it all danced before her eyes, brought to life centuries after it was written so painstakingly in the book.

  Her heart was beating fast by the time Vasco stopped, or pulled up, since it felt more as if she’d been riding along in the tale and they’d slid to a halt, dust flying and hooves clattering.

  “Beautiful.” Her voice was breathless, as if she’d been running alongside the riders.

  “Bell.” Vasco smiled. “And thank you for awakening me to it. I’d never have opened this book if you weren’t here. I confess I’m not much of a reader, by nature.”

  “You’re more action oriented.” She noticed how Vasco always seemed to have the wind in his hair, even here in the quiet calm of the library. “And this book has a lot of action in it.”

  “It does. And plenty of passio.” He took her hand in his. Part of her was glad he’d removed it from the fragile old book, but the rest of her started to quiver in a mix of excitement and terror as desire rose inside her, hot and inevitable.

  Was this just a friendly gesture for him? Everything about Vasco was sensual and dramatic, so maybe she read too much into his bold touches and looks. Her hand heated inside his and her fingers tingled with the desire to explore his warm
skin. All the sexual feelings that had lain dormant in her for the last two years—or more if she was honest—rose up like a river after a rainstorm.

  She tugged her hand back and stepped away. “Let me show you another book I plan to work on.” She reached for a black leather volume, its pages coming loose from the worn binding. Her hands trembled as she heaved its weight toward Vasco, anxious to break the seductive spell he seemed to have cast over her.

  She didn’t dare look at him but she imagined his eyes laughing. He knew how much power he had over her and he found it amusing. Flirtation came naturally to him and he used it like a weapon. She’d better find some good armor, possibly the polished set of inlaid sixteenth century armor in the great hall. That looked about her size.

  “What’s so funny?” His voice tickled her ears.

  “Just wondering how I’d look in a suit of armor.”

  “It’s easy to find out. I used to try them on myself when I was a kid—even rode my horse in one, which wasn’t too comfortable.” He laughed. “But none of them fit me now. Our ancestors were smaller than we are.” His daring eyes swept over her again. “Though you’re about the right size for Francesca’s. Come on.”

  He’d been leaning on the table with one hip, but he rose and headed for the door, beckoning her.

  Stella swallowed. Did he really intend for her to try on some armor? She had to admit the idea had some appeal. How often did you have an opportunity to peek into the experiences of people in another era? Now she’d know how a nervous eighteen-year-old count might feel as he dressed for battle with a neighboring fiefdom.

  Her pace quickened as she followed him. She wasn’t exactly dressed for battle, medieval or otherwise. Her long dress swept around her legs as she hurried down the hallway. Would he expect her to take it off? Karen had convinced her to buy new lingerie for her trip on the pretext that if servants would be arranging her belongings, they should fit in with a royal household, not scream “bargain bin.”

  She wasn’t sure how many royal guests wore skimpy pale silver satin and lace, but at least her underwear drawer did look smart and she felt glamorous when she put them on.

  Vasco led her along a gloomy passageway, illuminated by a single lamp, and into a vast chamber with no lighting of any kind. He flicked a switch and spotlights in the ceiling splashed over a startling display of weaponry arranged on the walls in intricate patterns. Swords crisscrossed each other and muskets fanned out like lace petticoats. Armaments covered most of three walls, shining and polished as if ready for immediate use.

  “My ancestors liked to keep their defenses at hand.” Vasco grinned. “But they also liked things to be pretty.”

  “Does someone take these down to polish them?”

  “Only once a year. They haven’t been pressed into service for quite some time.”

  “That’s a relief. Besides, it can’t be easy to buy ammunition for a seventeenth century musket these days.”

  “You’d be surprised…” he winked “…at what you can find on eBay.”

  Spotlights also illuminated three suits of armor, each standing in a corner. Two were silver metal with tooled decoration, the other was black and bronze, very elaborate and slightly smaller than the others.

  “It’s so pretty.” She walked toward the unusual one. “Is it Italian?”

  “It is.” He sounded surprised that she knew. “My ancestor Francesc Turmeda Montoya had it made in Genoa and brought here over the mountains. By the time it arrived he’d grown and it didn’t fit.”

  “What a waste. So it was never worn?”

  “Not by him. I’d imagine it was pressed into service over the years from time to time.” His long, strong fingers caressed the tooled metal. “But it’s possible that it’s never experienced the pleasure of encasing a woman’s body.”

  Stella felt every inch a woman as Vasco’s gaze met hers. “It does look like it might fit.”

  He reached behind the torso and unbuckled something. The breastplate, arms still attached, loosened from the stand. “I think you’d better slip out of your dress.”

  Stella fought the urge to laugh. “What if someone comes?”

  “They won’t.”

  “What if war breaks out and all the staff comes running to find the weapons?”

  “Then you’ll be dressed for battle.” His dimples deepened. “Let me help you.” He pulled his hands away from the armor and stepped behind her. The sound of her zipper sliding down her back made tiny hairs stand on end all over her body. She shrugged out of the arms and let the dress slide to the floor.

  “Lucky thing I’m not self-conscious,” she said, wishing she really wasn’t. At least the spotlights focused on the armaments, so she stood in relative shadow outside the pool of light on the armor.

  She glanced at Vasco to find his eyes feasting unashamedly on her bare skin. Her nipples thickened inside her elegant bra and she felt an urgent need to hide behind the black and gold metal. “Hold it out for me.”

  He lifted the breastplate off the stand. The arms clanked against the torso with a sound that could wake the dead, and she glanced behind her before sliding her arms into the dark holes and letting Vasco step behind her to fasten the straps. His fingers brushed her back as he closed the armor and she tried not to shiver.

  The legs fastened individually, strapping over her thighs and attaching to the main body, so Vasco’s fingers had a lot of intimate contact with her skin. The mere touch of his hands made her breath catch at the bottom of her lungs. At last she was entirely encased in metal except her head. “Let’s see if I can walk.” She felt precarious. The armor was heavy and with her hands in metal gauntlets she wasn’t sure she could catch herself if she fell.

  “You look like a very elegant Joan of Arc.”

  She took a tentative step forward. Surprisingly, the armor moved with her like a second, if heavyweight, skin, though the shoe part was too large and clanked on the stone floor. “It’s not easy to walk in these things.”

  “That’s why you need a horse.” Vasco smiled. “No one marched into battle in that getup. Want to try the helmet?” He lifted the tooled headpiece.

  Stella nodded, and let Vasco lower it over her head. She’d worn her hair loose tonight, curling around her neck, and she tucked in the bottom ends so they wouldn’t stick out. It was dark inside the helmet, and had an interesting smell, more like wood than metal. She wondered about the people who’d stood in here before. Were they preparing for battle and fighting their fears, or were they like her, just trying it on for fun?

  She couldn’t see Vasco at all. The eye slits weren’t quite in the right place so she could only see the floor and up to his knees. They must work better up on a horse.

  She pulled off the helmet, and even the spare illumination in the armaments chamber seemed blinding after the darkness inside. “Phew. It’s nice to be able to breathe again. I can picture you riding around the countryside carrying a lance. Rescuing a fair maiden or two.”

  One dark brow lifted. “What makes you think I would be rescuing them?”

  “Okay, endangering their virtue.”

  “Probably closer to the truth.” Even the way the skin around his eyes crinkled only made him more handsome. “But I would mean well.” His seductive smile and tilted head seemed to gently ask forgiveness.

  “I’ll bet.” Even in the armor she didn’t feel at all safe around Vasco. And it was getting uncomfortably hot in here. “I’d better get this off.”

  Vasco’s slow smile crept across his mouth again. “Let me help you with that.”

  Six

  Vasco had noticed that Stella’s hair changed color depending on the light. Right now the spotlight that usually shone on the armor picked out bright gold and red strands from the silky bob.

  Sweet and excited but slightly hesitant, her smile tormented him. Her pink lips were mobile, soft and tempting. He could almost imagine how it would feel to kiss her.

  But not quite. There was only one way to fi
nd out what her mouth would feel like pressed against his.

  His knuckles caressed her back as he unbuckled the armor. Soft and warm, her skin begged to be touched. The clasp on her bra beckoned him like the key to a hidden chamber, and with difficulty he managed to prevent himself from unlocking it.

  Stella slid out of the armor and he lifted it back onto its armature, irked that he had to drag his eyes from the inviting vision of her body. Luckily the legs required some assistance to remove. The darkness hid his appreciative gaze as he released her deliciously athletic thighs from their metal casing, and pulled the heavy shoes from her delicate feet with their coral-tipped toes.

  Her silky underwear didn’t help matters. It took all his self-control not to cup the sweet roundness of her backside. Instead he held up her dress and helped her back into it. Her cheeks were pink, even in the dim light. He’d like to see them flushed deeper, with exertion and desire.

  Good things come to those who wait.

  “I enjoyed that.” She fastened the matching belt back around her waist. “Although it’s heavy, it’s also surprisingly flexible. I’d never have imagined that.”

  “This armor was cutting-edge technology in its time. No expense would have been spared in kitting out the son and heir to defend the family lands and honor and live to tell the tale.”

  Stella’s eyes looked golden in the half-light of the chamber. “Do you wish you’d lived back then?”

  “What man wouldn’t?”

  “The ones who’d rather play battle games on a computer, I suppose.”

  “I don’t have the patience for those. I’d rather feel the blood pulsing in my veins.”

  “Or pulsing right out of them if it was a real battle. I’m glad Nicky won’t be expected to ride into battle on a galloping horse. That would scare the life out of me.”

  “I’d imagine mothers have felt the same throughout history.” He picked up her hand, an instinctive gesture. “However, they haven’t often had the final say in such matters.”