Her Unforgettable Royal Lover

by Merline Lovelace

  Yet what she was feeling now wasn’t mental. It was physical, and growing more urgent by the moment. She wanted his hands on her, dammit! His mouth. She wanted that hard, muscled body pinning hers to the wall, the sheets, even the floor.

  The intensity of the hunger pumping through her veins surprised her. It also generated an enormous relief. All that talk about a possible past trauma had raised some ugly questions in her mind. In Dom’s, too, apparently, judging by his comment about her deliberately trying to downplay her looks. The realization that she could want a man as much as she appeared to want this one was as reassuring as it was frustrating.

  Which brought her right back to square one. She threw another thoroughly annoyed look at the bed. She should have taken Sarah up on her offer to arrange a hotel room, she thought sourly. If she had, she wouldn’t be sitting here wondering whether she should—or could!—convince Dom to forget about being all noble and considerate.

  Shoving out of the chair, she stalked to the wardrobe and reclaimed the shirt she’d slept in last night. She took it into the bathroom to change, and her prickly irritation ratcheted up another notch when she found the hand towel she’d left folded neatly over the rack tossed in a damp pile atop the counter. Worse, the toiletries she’d carefully arranged to make room for her few purchases were once again scattered haphazardly around the sink.

  Muttering, she stripped off her new jeans and top. She didn’t think she was obsessive-compulsive. And even if she was, what was so wrong with keeping things neat and orderly?

  The sight of her borrowed undies didn’t exactly improve her mood. Dom obviously hadn’t suffered from an excess of scruples with Kissy Face Arabella. Natalie would have dumped the black silk hipsters in the trash if she’d had another pair to step into. She’d have to do more shopping tomorrow.

  Yanking the crew shirt over her head, she scrubbed her face and teeth. Then she carefully refolded her towel and scooped up her jeans and top. Just as she exited the bathroom, the front door opened and Duke bounded in. His ecstatic greeting soon had her laughing. Hard to stay in a snit with a cold nose poking her bare thighs and a pink tongue determined to slather her with kisses.

  “Okay, enough, stop.” She fended off a determined lunge and pointed a stern finger at the floor. “Duke! Sit!”

  He looked a little confused by the English command but the gesture got through to him. Ears flopping, he dropped onto his haunches.

  “Good boy.” She couldn’t resist sending his master a smug look. “See, he recognizes his name.”

  “I think he recognized your tone.”

  “Whatever.” She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “We didn’t resolve the issue of the bed earlier. I don’t feel right consigning you to the sofa. I’ll sleep there tonight.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Look, I’m very grateful for all you’ve done for me. I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than I already have.”

  Dom managed not to snort. If she had any idea of just how badly she was “inconveniencing” him at this moment, she’d shimmy back into her jeans and run like hell. Instead she just stood there while his gaze gobbled up the long, slender legs showing below the hem of his shirt. The mere thought of those legs tangled with his started an ache in his groin.

  He damned well better not fantasize about what was under the shirt. If he did, neither one of them would make it to the bed. They might not even make it to the sofa.

  “I’ve fallen asleep more nights than I can count in front of the TV,” he bit out. “You’ve got the bed.”

  He could tell from the way her mouth set that he’d come across more brusque than he’d intended. Tough. After just a little more than twenty-four hours in her company, Ms. Clark had him swinging like a pendulum. One moment his cop’s instincts were reminding him that things weren’t always what they seemed. The next, he ached to take her in his arms and kiss away the fear she was doing her best to disguise.

  Now he just plain ached, and he wasn’t happy about the fact that he couldn’t—wouldn’t!—do anything to ease the hurt. And why was she tormenting him like this, anyway?

  “You’re not going to bed now, are you?” he asked her.

  “It’s almost ten.”

  He managed to keep his jaw from sagging, but it took a heroic effort. He could understand her crashing facedown on the bed last night. She’d been hurt. She’d spent who knew how long in the Danube, and had a lump the size of a softball at the base of the skull.

  She’d seemed to recover today, though. Enough for him to make an incautious comment. “At ten o’clock most Hungarians are trying to decide where to go for coffee and dessert.”

  Her chin tilted. “If you want to go out for coffee and dessert, please don’t let me stop you.”

  Whoa! He’d missed something here. When he left to take out the dog twenty minutes ago, Natalie had been all soft and shy and confused. Now she was as stiff and prickly as a horsehair blanket.

  Dom wanted to ask what happened in that short time span but he’d learned the hard way to keep his mouth shut. He’d guided his sister through her hormone-driven teen years. He’d also enjoyed the company of his fair share of women. Enough, anyway, to know that any male who attempted to plumb the workings of the female mind had better be wearing a Kevlar vest. Since he wasn’t, he quickly backpedaled.

  “Probably just as well we make it an early night. We have a full day tomorrow.”

  She acknowledged his craven retreat with a regal dip of her head. “Yes, we do. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Dom and the hound both watched as she made her way to the far end of the loft and arranged her jeans and tank top into neat folds before placing them on the table beside the bed. Dom didn’t move while she turned back the comforter and slid between the sheets.

  The dog didn’t exercise the same restraint. His claws scrabbling on the oak floorboards, he scrambled across the open space and made a flying leap. He landed on the bed with paws outstretched and announced his arrival with a happy woof. Natalie laughed and eased to one side to make room for him.

  With a muttered curse, Dom turned away from the sight of the Agár sprawled belly-up beside her.

  Eight

  The next day dawned achingly bright and gloriously cool. The first nip of fall had swept away the exhaust-polluted city air and left Budapest sparkling in the morning light.

  Dom woke early after a restless night. Natalie was still hunched under the featherbed when he took the hound for his morning run. Halfway through their usual five miles he received a text message with a copy of her driver’s license. He saved the attachment to print out at the loft and thumbed his phone to access the US Embassy website. Once he’d downloaded the application to replace a lost passport, he made a note to himself to call the consular office and set up an appointment.

  He was tempted to make another call to his contact at Interpol. When he’d asked Andre to dig deeper, he hadn’t expected the excavation to take more than a day. Two at the most. But he knew Andre would get back to him if he uncovered anything of interest.

  Dom also knew he belonged in the field! He’d taken down vicious killers, drug traffickers, the remorseless sleaze who sold children to the highest bidders. He didn’t claim to be the best at what he did, but he’d done his part. This extended vacation was pure crap.

  Or had been, until Natalie had dropped into his life. If Dom hadn’t been at such loose ends he might not have been so quick to assume complete responsibility for her. Now that he had, he felt obligated to keep her close until her memory returned.

  It was already trickling back. Bits and pieces had started to pierce the haze. And when the fog dissipated completely, he thought with a sudden tightening of his belly, he intended to do his damnedest to follow up on that one, searing kiss. He’d spent too many uncomfortable hours on the sofa last night, imagining just that eventuality.

  A jerk on the leash checked his easy stride. He glanced down to see the hound
dragging his rear legs and glaring at him reproachfully.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You’re already in bed with her.”

  Still the dog wouldn’t move.

  “Oh, all right. Have at it.”

  Dom jogged in place while the Agár sniffed the interesting pile just off the track, then majestically lifted a leg to spray it.

  * * *

  As soon as Dom and the hound entered, they were hit with the aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly baked cinnamon bread. The scents were almost as tantalizing as the sight of Natalie at the stove, a spatula in hand and a towel tucked apronlike around her slim hips. Dom tried to remember the last woman who’d made herself at home in his kitchen. None of those who’d come for a drink and stayed for the night, as best he could recall. And certainly not his sister. Even as a child, Anastazia had always been too busy splinting the broken wings of sparrows or feeding baby squirrels with eyedroppers to think about nourishing herself or her brother.

  “I went down to the grocery shop on the corner,” Natalie said by way of greeting. “I thought we should have breakfast before we took off for Karlenburgh Castle.”

  “That sounds good. How long before it’s ready?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “Make it ten,” he begged.

  He snagged a cup of coffee and had to hide a grimace. She’d made it American style. Closer to colored water than the real thing. The weak brew provided barely enough punch to get him through a quick shower and shave.

  He emerged eager for a taste of the bacon laid out in crisp strips on a paper towel. The fluffy eggs scrambled with mushrooms and topped with fresh-grated Gruyère cheese had his tongue hanging out almost as far as the hound’s. But the warm cinnamon rolls tucked in a napkin made him go weak at the knees. Groaning, he sank onto a stool at the counter.

  “Do you cook breakfast for yourself every morning?”

  She paused with the spatula hovering above the platter of eggs. “I don’t know.”

  “No matter,” Dom said fervently. “You’re doing fine.”

  Actually, she was doing great. Her movements concise and confident, she set out his mismatched plates and folded paper napkins into neat, dainty triangles. Amused, he saw that she’d purchased a small bouquet of flowers during her quick trip to the grocers. The purple lupines and pink roses now sprouted from his prized beer stein. He had to admit they added a nice touch of color to the otherwise drab kitchen area.

  So did she. She wore the jeans she’d purchased yesterday and had borrowed another of his soccer shirts. The hem of the hunter-green shirt fell well below her hips, unfortunately, but when she leaned across the counter to refill his coffee mug, the deep-V neckline gave him a tantalizing glimpse of creamy slopes.

  Promising the hopeful hound he would be fed later, she perched on the stool beside Dom and served them both. The eggs tasted as good as they looked. He was halfway through his when he gave her an update.

  “While I was out jogging, I got a text with a copy of your driver’s license attached. I also downloaded the application form for a replacement passport. I’ll print both after breakfast, then we’ll make an appointment with the consular office.”

  Natalie nodded. The bits and pieces of her life seemed to be falling into place. She just wished they would fall faster. Maybe this excursion to Karlenburgh Castle would help. Suddenly impatient, she hopped off her stool and rinsed her dish in the sink.

  “Are you finished?” she asked.

  He relinquished his plate but snagged the last cinnamon bun before she could whisk the basket away. She did a quick kitchen cleanup and changed back into her red tank top. Her straw tote hooked over her shoulder, she waited impatiently while Dom extracted a lightweight jacket from his wardrobe.

  “You’ll need this. It can get cool up in the mountains.”

  * * *

  She was disappointed when he decreed the hound wouldn’t join them on the expedition…and surprised when he introduced her to the girl in the apartment downstairs who looked after the animal during his frequent absences.

  The dog-sitter wasn’t the sultry, predatory single Natalie had imagined. Instead she looked to be about nine or ten, with a splash of freckles across her nose and a backpack that indicated she’d been just about to depart for school.

  When she dropped to her knees to return the hound’s eager kisses, her papa came to the door. Dom introduced Natalie and explained that they might return late. “I would appreciate it if Katya would walk him after school, as per our usual agreement.”

  The father smiled fondly at his daughter and replied in heavily accented English. “But of course, Dominic. They will both enjoy the exercise. We still have the bones and bag of food you left last time. If you are late, we’ll feed him, yes?”

  “We should not call him Dominic anymore, Papa.” The girl sent Dom an impish grin. “We should address you as Your Grace, shouldn’t we?”

  “You do,” he retorted, tugging on her ear, “and I won’t let you download any more songs from my iTunes account.”

  Giggling, she pulled away and reminded him of a promise he looked as though he would prefer to forget. “You’re coming to my school, aren’t you? I want to show off my important neighbor.”

  “Yes, yes. I will.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  “When?”

  “Katya,” her father said in gentle reproof.

  “But Dom’s on vacation now. He told us so.” Her arm looped around the dog’s neck, she turned accusing eyes on her upstairs neighbor. “So when will you come?”

  Natalie had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. The kid had him nailed and knew it.

  “Next week,” he promised reluctantly.

  “When next week?”

  “Katya, enough!”

  “But, Papa, I need to tell my teacher when to expect the Grand Duke of Karlenburgh.”

  Groaning, Dom committed to Tuesday afternoon if her teacher concurred. Then he grasped Natalie’s elbow and steered her toward the garage stairs.

  “Let’s get out of here before she makes me promise to wear a crown and a purple robe.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Watch yourself, woman.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  She knew him well enough now to laugh off his bad-tempered growl. As they started down the winding streets of Castle Hill, though, she added another facet to his growing list of alter egos. Undercover Agent. Grand Duke. Rescuer of damsels in distress. Loving older brother. Adopter of stray hounds. And now friend to an obviously adoring preteen.

  Then there was that other side to him. The hot, sexy marauder whose ancestors had swept down from the Steppes. Sitting right next to her, so close that all she had to do was slide a glance at his profile to remember his taste and his scent and the feel of all those hard muscles pressed against her.

  Natalie bit her lip in dismay when she realized she couldn’t decide which of Dom’s multiple personalities appealed to her most. They were all equally seductive, and she had the scary feeling that she was falling a little bit in love with each one of them.

  Lost in those disturbing thoughts, she didn’t see they’d emerged onto a broad boulevard running parallel to the Danube until Dom pointed out an impressive complex with an elaborate facade boasting turrets and fanciful wrought-iron balconies.

  “That’s Gellért Hotel. Their baths are among the best in Budapest. We’ll have to follow Dr. Kovacs’s advice and go for a soak tomorrow, yes?”

  Natalie couldn’t remember if she’d been to a communal bath before. Somehow it didn’t seem like her kind of thing. “Do the spa-goers wear bathing suits?”

  “In the public pools.” He tipped her a quick grin. “But we can book a private session, where suits are optional.”

  Like that was going to happen! Natalie could barely breathe sitting here next to him fully clothed. She refused to think about the two of them slithering into a pool naked.

  Ha
stily, she shoved her thoughts in a different direction. “How far did you say it was to where I left the rental car?”

  “Gyür’s only a little over a hundred kilometers.”

  “And Pradzéc, where I crossed over from Austria?”

  “Another sixty or seventy kilometers. But the going will be slower as we get closer to the border. The road winds as it climbs into the Alps.”

  “Where it reaches Karlenburgh Castle,” she murmured.

  She’d been there. She knew she’d been there. Dom claimed the castle was nothing but a pile of tumbled rock now but something had pulled Natalie to those ruins. Even now, she could feel the tug. The sensation was so strong, so compelling, that it took her some time to let go of it and pay more attention to the countryside they passed through.

  They zipped along the M1 motorway as it cut through the region that Dom told her was called Northern Transdanubia. Despite its bloody history as the traditional battleground between Hungary and the forces invading from the west, the region was one of gentle hills, green valleys and lush forests. The international brown signs designating a significant historic landmark flashed by with astonishing frequency. Each town or village they passed seemed to boast an ancient abbey or spa or fortified stronghold.

  The city of Gyür was no exception. When Dom pointed out that it was located exactly halfway between Vienna and Budapest, she wondered how many armies had tramped through its ancient, cobbled streets. Natalie caught only a glimpse of Old Town’s battlements, however, before they turned north. Short moments later they reached the point where two smaller rivers flowed into the mighty Danube.

  A double-decker tour boat was just departing the wharf. Natalie strained every brain cell in an effort to identify with the day-trippers crowding the rails on the upper decks. Nothing clicked. Not even when Dom turned into the parking lot and parked next to the motorized matchbox she’d supposedly rented in Vienna almost two days ago.