He ran his hand over her back and round ass, squeezed it lightly and then his fingers brushed her between her thighs. “No soreness?”
“Oh, there’s that.” And it felt at the same time incredibly awkward and freeing to be having that conversation with him.
“That’s to be expected.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, a slight disappointed look on his face.
“But it’s a good soreness, and I want to feel it again,” she whispered, taking his lips in a hungry kiss.
Indian Ocean, off East Africa, Seychelles
In a private villa
12:05 p.m.
Siobhan arched her back as Angus’s fingers trailed down her spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Never had she thought in her life that she would be this happy, this content. Angus had been the man she had been waiting for and now he was her husband. She still didn’t believe it.
A rumble of laughter shook his chest. “Do you like that, wife?”
“Say it again,” Siobhan said, pressing a kiss to his chest.
“I will say it forever,” he stated, his hand stopping on her back. “Wife. You are mine.”
Siobhan grinned as she looked up at him, a slight breeze from the ocean stirring his long hair. They lay in a large bed overlooking crystal blue ocean, their skin still damp from the round of sex that had left her crying out his name and not caring who had heard her.
When he had asked where she wanted to honeymoon, Siobhan had pictured the sand and sea, with a warm sun and no one for miles around.
Angus had provided all of it and more. He had made her dreams come true and even though their start was a rocky one, she was glad for it.
“What the hell?”
Startled, Siobhan looked at her husband, seeing the frown marring his rugged features. “What is it?”
He nodded toward the TV mounted on the wall, muted so that they would not be distracted. “Trouble.”
With a sigh, she slid next to him, laying her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, following his gaze. It was set to a news channel, one that Siobhan knew Angus watched frequently. The reporter was on a split screen, showing a shot of Aragon’s Palacio del Al-Andalus wall.
Instead of the sandstone that Siobhan was used to seeing, there were words scrawled on the stone in black and red, harsh words with a specific meaning in mind.
“The palace belongs to the people!”
“You don’t belong here!”
The reporter spoke rapidly, and they were now showing a clip of the instigators as they were captured, the officials hauling them off while a crowd cheered around them.
Siobhan did not know if the crowd was cheering for the criminals or for the police who had arrested them.
“Shit,” Angus sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can no one have a moment’s peace?”
Siobhan sighed inwardly and climbed onto her husband’s taut, naked form, blocking his view of the screen as she leaned down, her breasts brushing his bare chest. “Can we just forget the outside world for a little while?”
She knew she had to develop an interest in her country’s affairs but it was the first day of her honeymoon and she wanted to pretend that inside their own little bubble the world was right around them.
“Of course. I apologize.” His expression softened as he clasped her hips, his hands sliding up her sides, and curving around her round belly. “How are my sons?”
“Hungry.” She gave him a smile, but in her heart, she knew that this was far from over. They could not shut out the world forever.
12
Valantín watched as Anchela put the phone back in her bag, crossing her hands on her lap. “She’s still not answering.”
He frowned, glancing at his watch. It was already half past midday and he knew Angelica was an early riser.
That, and she would never intentionally ignore a call from her mother. “Perhaps her phone is dead,” he muttered, roughly running a hand through his raven hair.
Anchela blew out a breath. “This is not like my daughter.”
Valantín had to admit that it was out of character for Angelica and there was only one person to blame for this. “We need to go back to Aragon. Immediately.”
He doubted his sister had seen the news this morning, the unrest that was restarting there. It was only right for all of them to go back.
“I know,” Anchela replied, standing and walking over to the window. The sun was streaming through the plate glass windows of the suite, highlighting the dove-gray outfit the older woman was wearing. Valantín too was dressed for travel and all they needed was for Angelica to walk through the door so he could get them all home.
And get Angelica away from that bastard Ludwig.
“Shall we wait until one o’clock?” Anchela finally asked him. “Surely, she will be here soon.”
Valantín heard the worry in her voice but did not respond, afraid that his own anger at the situation would shine through. Angelica and Ludwig; he still could not believe it.
“Perhaps now is the time to set the wheels in motion to plan for Angelica’s marriage.”
Valantín snorted. “We are not in the 18th century.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Anchela looked at him, her gaze narrowing. “As I am well aware that we, the Castella y Aragon are not in a comfortable position as royal rulers. And Angelica was well aware of the benefits of a marriage of convenience for the sake of Aragon.”
“While I understand your concern, you cannot force her into marriage.” Valantín shook his head. He had attempted to keep her away from Ludwig and that had not worked either. “She’s not you, Anchela.”
Anchela huffed, her hands on her hips. “I survived, didn’t I? Your father was not a bad man and our marriage was what was expected.”
Valantín gave her a look. “But were you happy?”
“Happiness…is a term used by many,” Anchela responded, waving her hand at Valantín. “But not something that is a deciding factor in the art of marriage. Angelica would be safe, she would be loved. Who doesn’t love our poor beautiful princess?”
Valantín walked to the window, flattening his lips as he thought of Anchela’s plans.
Angelica would want happiness. She deserved it. Not a marriage that would fulfill her duty but bring her sadness. He never wanted to feel her sadness again.
“I’ll discuss with Angelica when we return to Aragon,” he decided, putting the matter to rest for now. He would find a way to make Anchela forget this old-fashioned and crazy idea.
Because he knew how much Angelica was susceptible to sacrifice everything for her love for Aragon.
“As much as I’d love to stay in bed all day with you, if you wish to see a bit of Lekten, we must get going.” Ludwig rolled out of bed and walked to his closet stark naked.
Angelica stretched her arms above her head.
The man had an incredible figure. His butt flexed with each step, and the muscles in his thighs and calves were well-defined. He was…one hundred percent sex appeal. She snuck up behind him and pinched a cheek, then ran back to the bed giggling.
He turned around and looked at her with a playful menace in his eyes.
She couldn’t stop smiling. “Where will we go first?”
“I’m not sure what to show you. I’ve never really been to the tourist spots.”
She was sure there were more than a few of those. She knew from experience that tourism brought in much needed revenue. “That’s not what I’m interested in.”
He popped his head out of the closet door and looked at her with a frown. “Then what are you interested in?”
She really didn’t know. “I want to see the real country.” The real you.
He gave her an appraising look and then disappeared. “Get dressed. We’re going to have a hard time going anywhere naked.”
But he’d love to keep her that way. She looked so damned irresistible in his bed, tangled in his sheets. But he wasn’t going to push it. Last night had been h
er first night with a man and after their bout of sweet and slow lovemaking this morning, sex again would only make her sore. He didn’t want that.
Even though his body—as though it had a mind of its own—wanted to do exactly that. He wanted to come inside her again and again. He paused in his search for today’s apparel. How long will this desire last? And why is it so intense?
Nein. He took his clothes to the bathroom and shook his head at his image in the mirror. A tryst is all good. He’d had one-night-stands with some of the finest women, but for some reason, the thought of not having Angelica again and again did not sit well with him.
Get dressed? In what? She rolled out of bed and grabbed his white tuxedo shirt, putting it on. After buttoning it, she rolled up the sleeves, and then started searching for her bag but then she remembered she had left it on the living center table the night before.
Then she realized she was standing, semi-naked, in the bedroom of a bachelor—a too hot, too sexy, too experienced bachelor who’d given her an amazing orgasm the night before and another this morning.
Who would have ever thought it could happen?
Surely not her. For a moment, she simply scanned the room. The decor was definitely masculine, free of female frills. In warm hues of tan and navy, to one side there was the immense four-poster bed and to the other, a large couch, flanked by two overstuffed armchairs in front of an oversized, manly flat screen television.
Men will be men. And she had no desire to change that status. That was surely something to smile about, and so she did, slowly walking into the living room and stopping to look at a few portraits hanging on the corridor and stair walls.
In the living room, over the black grand-piano sitting in a corner, there were several photos of his family: a brother, a younger version of Ludwig; a beautiful sister, probably the same age or a bit older than herself; and a few pictures of a couple with enough resemblance to him they had to be his parents.
“Hmm,” she murmured under her breath. “Interesting.”
She would never have thought Ludwig would be sentimental or family-oriented. All the gossip about his womanizer, bad-boy charisma appeared to hide something deeper.
How many sides does this man have?
With a sigh, Angelica walked over to her bag, rummaging through it before her fingers found her phone.
Twenty missed calls. All from her mother.
Just great. She had missed the deadline for them to return home and they must be concerned she wasn’t answering her cell. Angelica drew in a deep breath before she dialed her mother back. It rang only once before it was answered.
“Angelica! Mi hija! Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Angelica replied, wincing at the concern laced in her mother’s voice. “Do not worry about me, Mamá.”
“Not worry? Of course I am going to worry! We have been waiting on you to return. Your brother has been sick with worry.”
Angelica rolled her eyes. Her one night of recklessness had her entire family in an uproar. “I…I’m not returning with you. I want to stay with Ludwig.”
“S-stay with him? What has gotten into you, mi hija?”
Angelica sat down at the edge of the chair, pressing her mobile to her ear. “Maybe I want, Mamá. Ludwig wants to take me out to show me the country and I want to go.”
“I do not care if you want to go, Angelica. This is not right. This is not you. We were worried sick when you didn’t call.”
“Maybe I do not want to be that person any longer!” Angelica shouted, unable to restrain herself. She was not a child. She deserved her own measure of freedom and if she wished to stay with Ludwig as that measure, they would have to understand that.
She was happy right now.
She heard a noise very similar to her mother sobbing and opened her mouth to apologize, but was cut off by her half-brother’s angry voice as his face appeared on the screen. “Angelica, quit messing around and come home. This is ridiculous!”
“Ridiculous? Why? We’re both free, healthy, and of age,” Angelica hissed. “Look what not jumping into sex with someone got me last time.”
“You cannot compare that situation to this,” Valantín said, his voice lowering a notch. “This man. He is not right for you.”
“His name is Ludwig,” Angelica said, her temper simmering just below the surface. “And I will decide if he’s right for me or not. I’m not asking, Valantín.”
“Angelica,” Valantín continued on, as if she had never spoken at all. “We have a duty to return as a family.”
Angelica sighed, running her hand through her hair. They did not understand. She was not being unreasonable with her demands. After all, this was the twenty-first century. She knew the moment she walked away, this connection she had with Ludwig could be in danger.
That, and she knew her fun would be over. They expected her to be the same person she had been before Abelardo left her at the altar. They expected her to be good, decent, and above all, focused on her family.
All she wished to do was focus on herself for once. “Of all of our many, many duties, that is not actually one of them.” In a mocking baritone, or as close as she could get to one, she said, “‘And the royal family, when attending the wedding of a recently discovered relative to a neighboring king, shall return to Aragon on the same flight—as a family.’ No, Brother. That is not one of our duties. I’m staying, and I’m going to enjoy myself.”
“Our country is a pure hot mess right now, Angelica, and all you can think about is sex?” he asked in an even voice.
“Oh, mi hija! How can you be thinking of sex right now?” Anchela’s face appeared on the screen again.
“Mother! I’m not—” The sound of Ludwig’s footsteps on the stairs caught Angelica’s attention, her heart beginning to race at the thought of seeing him. “I have to go, Mamá. Do not worry about me.”
“Ang—” her mother got out before Angelica ended the call.
Ludwig’s handsome face appeared a moment later, his expression giving nothing away. “Everything alright?” he asked lightly.
“Everything is fine,” she said, giving him a shy smile. “Except I find myself without clothes. Do you think we can pick up my luggage?”
He waved a hand at her. “I will have Charles do it. You and I are going to have breakfast. And if you have to do it without clothes, then I’ll just have to suffer through it the best I can.”
Angelica rose from the couch, her cheeks reddening as she realized what she was wearing. “I borrowed your shirt.”
His eyes heated as he gazed at her. “It looks a hell of a lot better on you, Angelica.”
Oh boy, this is going to be a fun breakfast.
13
Even though Ludwig knew Angelica had visited all the main attractions in Lekten once before, he drove Angelica around Lekten, the capital of Lektenstaten, pointing out museums, the Lekten Royal Bank building where he worked, and a few historical sites.
“Where are we going?” Angelica asked, when he took the road to the north.
“To see the real country.” Ludwig glanced at her.
Her dark hair falling down her back in loose waves, Angelica looked stunning in black couture jeans, a white button-up shirt with a blood-red cardigan carelessly thrown over her shoulders, and Gucci tennis shoes.
He put on music and stowed the roof of his black AMG Mercedes with the push of a button.
“You’re quiet,” he remarked, putting a hand on her thigh. She had been subdued since her call to the hotel. He wasn’t sure why—the few rushed words he could hear were in Aragonese, which was different from Spanish and Catálan—but he would have bet good money her mother and her brother had given her an earful about her staying with him, which made no sense to him and left him feeling kind of angry for both his and her sake. He remembered well enough when his father berated him for doing or saying something that was not expected in polite society, when polite society was just a demagogy and utopia.
�
�I…you know.” Her lashes lifted and she seemed to be at a loss for words, something he was sure the princess rarely struggled with.
“Tell me,” he prompted.
“Oh well, heck. I’ll just say it. I’m a little embarrassed about last night and this morning. I wasn’t…hmm…exactly proper.”
Damn. “And who says what is proper and what is not?” He didn’t want her to feel embarrassed or nervous. He didn’t want her overthinking what happened between them. He wasn’t thinking in terms of an actual relationship or anything, but he most definitely wanted things to continue the way they had started. The sex they’d had was far too good to come to an end. Seeing her aroused had made him burn with desire. Her explosive climax had made him proud of his skills and glad that he was the man who introduced her to not only sex, but mind-blowing sex at that. And his own unbelievably intense orgasm made it clear that they were a perfect sexual match. He wanted her to feel great and amazing about what happened, not analyzing it. “You have no reason to be embarrassed with me. I loved last night.”
“But I—”
“I loved last night,” he repeated and added, “and I loved this morning. Every minute of it. Do you know what else? We have been entirely too proper so far. I’m dying to teach you some…non-proper things.”
She blinked at him. “Non-proper?”
“Naughty. Kinky.” He took his foot from the gas pedal, his imagination already in overdrive, a rush of heat flooding his body, thickening his cock. Taking advantage of a long, straight path ahead, he faced her. “Things that will have you screaming my name out loud and passing out in pleasure.” And giving me mind-blowing pleasure in return, Angelica.
Then to her surprise—and shock—he took her hand and put it over his erection, rubbing it over the crotch of his jeans and then pressing it down.
Royal Affair (Last Royals Book 2) Page 8