High-Stakes Affair

by Gail Barrett

  “There were more crowds waiting at the castle,” Miguel said. “You’d have thought it was a coronation. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

  Dante set down the sander, then raised his safety goggles with a sigh. “And you’re telling me this why?”

  “So you can go see her.”

  “See her?” Dante scoffed. “Why would I do that?”

  Miguel frowned. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “What’s the point? She doesn’t need me now.” She had the king, her adoring subjects. She’d redeemed herself in the eyes of the people and proven her worth. She finally had the royal life she deserved.

  “She must want to see you,” Miguel argued.

  “Well, I sure as hell don’t want to see her.” It would only prolong the torture. Better to leave it like this, giving them both a clean break.

  “Suit yourself,” Miguel finally said, but he didn’t look convinced. “But just for the record, I was wrong about her. She has guts. And she’s definitely worth fighting for.”

  “She’s the princess. Way out of my league. We worked together to stop that virus, that’s all. And now it’s done.”

  Thank God. Before it was over, the virus had claimed over three hundred innocent lives. But there hadn’t been any new cases for weeks, so the king had finally lifted the quarantine and allowed travel to resume. Life in the tiny Pyrenees mountain country was returning to normal at last.

  He wished he could say the same for his heart.

  “I still say you should let her decide that,” Miguel said.

  Not bothering to answer, Dante snapped his safety goggles back into place.

  Miguel straightened and raised his hands. “All right. You win. I’m off to see Rafe. He wants to talk to me about a job. You want to come?”

  Dante wasn’t fooled. Rafe’s fiancée, Gabrielle Ferrer, was Paloma’s childhood friend. They’d want to grill him about his feelings for her.

  “Too busy.” He started up the sander, the loud buzz discouraging further remarks.

  Miguel shook his head, mouthed something that looked a lot like idiota and strode away.

  And for a minute Dante just stood there, the temptation to take Miguel’s advice and run to Paloma nearly overpowering his common sense. He trembled with the need to touch her. She’d driven herself so deeply inside him that he longed to plead for her to love him, to let him share her life.

  But she had a royal role to play. And he refused to hold her back.

  Turning his attention to the door, he put some muscle behind the sander, sending sawdust spraying into the air. Idiota or not, his time with Paloma was done.

  Now he just had to convince his heart.

  Paloma pulled up to Dante’s house, parked her borrowed Fiat next to a wrought-iron lamppost and climbed out of the car. It had taken some fancy footwork to escape the paparazzi swarming the castle. She’d worn a wig, snuck out through the workers’ entrance and even changed vehicles twice.

  Because nothing was going to stop her from seeing the man she loved.

  Her nerves thrumming, she hiked up the cobblestone street to Dante’s door. The sun had broken through the clouds, enveloping the traumatized country in a soft, healing glow, mimicking their hope that life would march on. She stopped before the wooden door, inhaled to quell the sudden burst of anxiety rising inside her, and lifted her hand to knock.

  But the door swung open, and Miguel stepped out. Startled, she took a quick step back. He paused, his own surprise reflected in his gray eyes.

  Would he let her in? She knew he didn’t care for her. But his mouth curved up, amusement gleaming in his eyes as he held open the door.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “I was glad to hear you recovered.”

  Taking that as an olive branch that she knew he intended, she smiled. “I appreciate that.”

  He nodded and started to walk away.

  “Miguel?” He turned back. “I’d like to talk to you when you have a chance. About business.” She wanted to convince him to use his skills for the crown—and the greater good.

  He slashed a smile at her. “We’ll see about that.”

  Yes, they would. She stepped into Dante’s courtyard, her own smile fading as she closed the door. This was it. It was time to confront the man she loved—and determine the rest of her life.

  She followed the loud buzz of machinery to the center of the courtyard. Her gaze arrowed straight to Dante, and she stopped. He stood beside a long plank balanced on sawhorses, his head bent as he worked. He had his sleeves shoved up. Sawdust floated in the air, speckling his strong arms. Leather work gloves covered his hands.

  He bore down on the machine, leaning farther over the plank, concentration etched on his dark face. She took in the wide ledge of his shoulders, the muscles flexing in his back and arms, the tool belt strapped over his faded jeans. And it was all she could do not to leap into his arms and beg him to make wild, passionate love to her right where he stood.

  He wore safety goggles over his eyes, ear protectors to block out the noise. His hair was shaggier and longer than the last time she’d seen him, a month ago. She curled her hands, trying to resist the urge to plunge her fingers through that inky hair. Instead, she stood rooted in place, trying to get her emotions for him under control so she didn’t blow the only chance she’d have.

  All of a sudden he glanced up. He went completely still, the sander still running in his hand, and she couldn’t seem to breathe. What was he thinking? Was he happy to see her? Wishing desperately that she could see his eyes behind those goggles, she waited for him to speak.

  He turned off the sander and set it down, abrupt silence filling the air. Then he pulled off the goggles and earphones and tossed them onto the door, followed by his leather gloves. His gaze still on her, he crossed his arms, not a hint of his feelings on his face.

  Her throat desert dry, she walked toward him across the stones. She stopped as close as she dared beside him, devouring him with her gaze. He’d lost weight. Shadows darkened the skin beneath his eyes. She took in his stubble-covered cheeks, his endearingly crooked nose, and the pressure in her chest increased.

  “I figured you wouldn’t come to see me,” she said.

  His eyes flickered. “You figured right.”

  She wavered, doubts suddenly creeping through her mind. Was that because he didn’t want to see her? But no, he loved her. She’d seen the headlines in the paper. She’d heard him confess it to the world.

  “So I decided to come here,” she continued. “I had things I wanted to say. I…well, first off, I want to thank you. What you did…that speech…” Her mouth wobbled badly, and she cleared her throat. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “I just told the truth.”

  “You did more than that. You changed my life.”

  His eyes softened a fraction. “You did that yourself.”

  “I don’t think so. If it hadn’t been for you…” She hugged her arms and sighed. “And just so you know, my father admitted he knew about Tristan’s drug smuggling.” Which had further disillusioned her about her family. “Or at least he suspected as much. But he didn’t want to expose his son, the future king. He thought the monarchy should continue at any cost.”

  “Typical.”

  “I know. But after that virus…he’s agreed to change the primogeniture laws. From now on, women can inherit the crown—assuming the people still want a monarchy. It’s going up for a referendum next year.”

  Dante’s eyes began to warm. Leaning closer, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the gentle gesture escalating her pulse. “They’ll vote you in. You’ll make a great queen.”


  “Maybe. But even if they do, I won’t have as much power. It’s time País Vell enters the twenty-first century and makes some reforms. The monarchy will be a lot more symbolic than it is now, assuming it survives.”

  She had so many reforms she wanted to enact, from bettering their educational system to granting autonomy to Reino Antiguo. But those changes would take time.

  And they depended on the peoples’ will.

  “Listen, Dante.” Her voice shook, and she cleared her throat. “I didn’t come here only to talk about País Vell.”

  His eyes suddenly wary, he rocked back on his heels.

  “I had a lot of time to think when I was in that hospital. I’ve wasted so much time—protecting my brother, rebelling against my father’s expectations, trying to conform to something I’m not. And I decided that if I survived, I was going to go after what I want.” She swallowed, her pulse embarking on a breakneck race. “And what I want is you.”

  He didn’t speak. A completely blank expression fell over his face. And something inside her died.

  “I won’t blame you if you say no. What my family did to yours…I know you won’t ever forget. But I love you, Dante. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I do. And when I was lying in that hospital, the only thing I regretted in this whole sordid affair was not telling you that. I vowed I was going to survive so I could let you know.”

  “Paloma…” Regrets pulled at his voice.

  Feeling frantic, she rushed on. “You saved me, Dante. You gave me a reason to survive that awful disease. You said you loved me. Maybe that’s changed, but—”

  “It hasn’t changed.” He strode forward and cradled her jaw with his hands, and her heart quivered hard in her chest. “For God’s sake, Paloma, how could it? You’re everything to me. But I’m a thief. I’m not an aristocrat. I’m exactly the wrong man for you.”

  “You’re the perfect man for me. The people respect you. They trust you. They need you. You’ve been their hero for years. You could help smooth the transition so violence doesn’t break out.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “And more importantly, I need you. I mean it, Dante. If the only thing holding you back is my status as a noble, then I’ll abdicate the throne. I don’t have to be a royal.” Her voice turned fierce. “But I do need you. And I’m not letting anything stand in our way.”

  He went stone still. For an eternity he didn’t speak. His amazing black eyes held her riveted, the love she felt for him bursting inside.

  And then he pulled her tighter against him, exactly where she longed to be. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice suddenly gruff, his eyes searching hers. “Because once you say yes, I’m not going to let you go. I want marriage, kids, all of it. Forever.”

  “Forever,” she breathed. “There’s nothing I want more.”

  His mouth claimed hers, and for the first time in her life a feeling of absolute rightness settled over her world. A happiness she knew would last.

  * * * * *

  ISBN: 9781459223417

  Copyright © 2012 by Gail Ellen Barrett

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