A Royal Murder

by Lyn Stone

  "You think he would?" Her excitement proved what he had suspected. She just needed to get out of here for a while.

  "Sure. What are surface friends for if you can't borrow their beaches?" He picked up the phone and punched in the number for the duke's offices.

  By the time Lorenzo had sent word by one of his assistants about a safe location, Nina had chosen a little red two-piece from among those sent up from the exclusive shop downstairs. She had refused to model it for him, and Ryan hadn't insisted. Not with a couple of beds in the vicinity and tension running high as a kite.

  Instead they went to their separate rooms and put on their swimsuits so they wouldn't have to change at the beach. Over his swimsuit, Ryan slipped on a pair of faded jeans. He quickly located his deck shoes and a freshly laundered polo shirt and finished dressing.

  When he returned to the sitting room, she was already there, wearing a bright, loose-fitting sundress and strappy little sandals. She held up the canvas tote she was carrying. "Towels and sunblock. Anything else we need?"

  "Nope. The less we carry with us, the better."

  He didn't want anyone who might be watching to guess where they might be going and follow. He adjusted the small holster clipped to his belt at the small of his back and made certain his shirttail covered it.

  He had already called the palace for the car and a couple of guards. Glancing at his watch, he figured they should be waiting downstairs by this time. It was nearly four o'clock, but he and Nina could have a quick swim and still return to the hotel well before dark.

  She accompanied him down to the lobby. Ryan hoped their short outing would cheer her up. He was feeling pretty low himself, considering her observations about him.

  He kept a close eye on the pedestrians and traffic nearby as they exited the building quickly and darted inside the limousine. They drew no more than what seemed the usual curiosity people afforded a couple making a dash for a limo in front of the most expensive hotel on the island. Celebrities stayed there, after all. He supposed Nina might be considered one after her write-up in the news and her connection to the royals.

  He wished he had argued with the king about the hotel. It might have been better to have taken her to some isolated beachside cottage across the island where no one would think to look.

  However, if he had insisted on that, then he could not have continued with the investigation. Although considering how much he had accomplished in the past week, he doubted it would have made much difference.

  Right now, since they were in the safe confines of the car, he was having a hard time focusing his mind on anything besides that new red bikini he knew she was wearing under her clothes.

  Also, in the back of his mind just beyond that pleasant haze of lust grew the novel idea that he could have Nina as a friend. A real friend. She had already come closer to that than anyone else had since he had sealed himself off.

  * * *

  Ursula Chambers pulled the straw sun hat closer down on her brow as she watched the royal limousine pull away from the curb. This did not look good. Not at all. Desmond's sister was riding around in a damned limo, guarded by a guy who could afford to put her up in the Royal Montebello Hotel.

  It must be a red-hot affair since the two of them rarely left the room. Ursula grimaced just thinking about the cost of staying here herself, but she needed to be close enough to take advantage of any opportunity to get rid of Nina. Obviously, the woman was just waiting until Ursula turned over Prince Lucas's baby to the royals. Then she would demand Ursula either share what reward she received, or give it all to her. No way.

  Thank God Desmond hadn't known about getting rid of the baby's mother. Ursula felt a brief stab of pity for her softheaded sister, but hadn't Jessica asked for it? She'd taken the prince in, given him a job and fell right into bed with the man without even knowing who he really was, for goodness' sake. And gotten dumped for her trouble, too. Then she had admitted she was pregnant by the Joe who turned out to be a prince. If only she had cooperated with Ursula and used that fact, she wouldn't be dead now.

  Ursula knew she had to get this one last complication, Nina Caruso, out of the way and then she'd be home free. Or at least ready to proceed with the next step. God, she had to be ready. Gretchen would soon be here with the baby. Once they arrived in San Sebastian, it would be too risky to delay doing what had to be done. God, she hoped the money she got for selling Jessica's ring would last.

  "Shall we go in now?" Ursula's companion asked, his accent as oily as his hair. He gestured from the car's window toward the entrance to the hotel. "I shall take care of everything."

  Desperation made her force a surgary smile, assuring herself that her acting talents had always been underappreciated. "Of course you will, Jean-Paul." Fake name, fake plastic, she'd bet. Just what she needed.

  "You go ahead and do that, lover, while I do a bit of shopping, okay? Something special for you," she sing songed suggestively, tracing the long red nail of her forefinger down the front of his tie. "We'll celebrate big time after you've done the little chore for me that needs doing."

  Ursula was not too trusting when it came to the locals, but she had sensed from the start that this one was a man after her own heart. Or after what was left of her money. As she saw it, they were pretty much one in the same and he'd play hell getting either one. Once he had served his purpose, he probably wouldn't be missed much. Not as much as Desmond anyway, and she was getting used to that.

  They entered the hotel separately. She wandered by the shop windows inside the lobby, careful not to give the impression that she was with him as he registered at the desk. When he headed for the elevator, she sauntered along toward them herself as he held the door open for her. "You will come back down to the lobby and wait for them," she instructed. "You know what to do then."

  "Yes," he said with a sly smile. "I know."

  Just one more thing, Ursula kept repeating inside her head. Or two more things, if she counted Jean-Paul, and she would have it rocked. She would never have to worry about money again.

  Chapter 11

  Nina felt woefully exposed as she slipped off her light cotton sundress in the open air and dropped it beside the tote containing the towels. There were no cabanas set up here on this lovely hidden stretch of beach. No folding lounge chairs or beach umbrellas marred the landscape. Even the steep path that accessed the cove was invisible from where she stood.

  The place looked as it might have when first discovered. The expanse of sand where they stood lay just below a natural seawall formed by rocks, some reaching heights of twenty to thirty feet. Just above those ran the narrow two-lane road where the limousine was parked. The two armed guards, one their driver, were now hidden from view, ostensibly patrolling.

  Ryan's rapid exhalation, almost a whistle, made her heat with a blush. Of course she had worn bikinis all her life. She had grown up in California, after all. But having his full and undivided attention while wearing one this revealing was a little disconcerting.

  "Red is definitely your color," he said, not even bothering to disguise his interest in her body.

  "And tan is yours," she replied, raising one eyebrow meaningfully, just to emphasize that he was wearing even less than she was.

  He pulled out their towels, dropped them on the sand and fished around in the bottom of the tote. "Want me to slather on your sunblock?" he asked, brandishing the tube of it, a wicked gleam in his eye.

  "No way," she replied, willing to risk any degree of sunburn rather than risk his hands on her. She didn't think she could endure that without doing something idiotic. "The sun's low now, anyway."

  He shrugged and dropped the tube back into her tote, leaving the towels lying in a heap at his feet. "It's almost five and we ought to leave here by six."

  His black bathing suit rode well below his waist and fit him like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination but whether the skin beneath it was lighter in color. And she already knew it was. Nina feasted her eye
s for as long as she dared, then turned toward the surf and ran into the water.

  She knew he was right behind her. Then he was beside her, swimming out past the breakers. They swam parallel to the shoreline until she tired and stopped to tread water. He moved nearer, within touching distance, his gaze alternating between her and the two guards who were now visible in the distance.

  "This is crazy," he said, grinning, water lapping at his chin, his strong arms stroking outward to keep him afloat. They also propelled him closer, close enough to take her mouth in a wet, hot, salty kiss that caused them to sink just below the surface.

  Nina sputtered and laughed as their heads emerged again. Her arms encircled his neck and her body lay flush against his. She could feel the scissoring of his legs keeping them afloat.

  "Put your legs around my waist," he said.

  She did, her breath hitching in her throat as she watched him swallow hard and smile. The intimacy of their embrace seemed even greater than if they had been out of the water doing this. Something about the motion of the current around them increased and magnified it somehow.

  They lingered there, bobbing like a single cork, while he stole breathless kisses and she clung to him, content except for a burgeoning need to get even closer. She relished the slick, hard surface of his muscles against her, the heat trapped between them and the cold swirling around them.

  "We should go back," she said when the powerful urge to take things further grew too intense.

  "I'd like to tow you to another island, one that's deserted," he said, almost gasping, "and keep you there."

  "You'd be so bored. Nothing to do." She trailed her fingers along the back of his neck, exploring, tickling.

  "Oh, I'd think of something," he assured her with a suggestive leer. "Believe me, I am thinking of something right now."

  "I know, but you'd better cool it," she advised, darting a glance toward the guards who were waiting for them near the car. "We probably have an audience."

  "They'd better not be watching us. They're paid to watch in the other direction. Kiss me."

  She did, but kept it brief. His lips tried to cling when she released his neck and unwound her legs from around him. She began to tread. "Did you come here to neck or swim?" she taunted and began swimming back the way they had come.

  "Neck!" he called out and glided past her to swim a length ahead. With each stroke, as his face turned to the side, he glanced back, wearing a grin. Suddenly he circled her, cutting through the water like a dolphin. Swimming beneath the surface he nudged her playfully, emerging with a laugh when she squealed.

  He seemed so totally at ease in the water, she thought, wondering whether he had always lived near the coast of Savannah. He must have grown up in the surf. Now, with his blond-streaked hair slicked back and his tanned muscles gleaming wet, he certainly had the look of a beachboy. And he swam like a fish.

  When they reached the spot nearest where they had left their towels, they headed in. Nina felt pleasantly exhausted as she got her feet under her and plowed through the waves lapping forcefully around her.

  Ryan reached out, smiling as he offered her his hand. She took it, remarking to herself how natural it felt to lace their fingers together. After so many days of carefully avoiding one another, being with him this way was like coming home after a long time.

  Only now she realized that actually going home, returning to the house in California where she had lived all her life, would never bring her this feeling again. No, the old sensation of warmth and comfort and being loved had died with her parents. Her fingers tightened and she wanted to hold on forever, even though she knew that was impossible.

  Ryan was not the sort of man to want any permanent ties. She had the impression that eliminating the ones he'd had was why he had come here in the first place. Reluctantly, she released his hand when they left the water.

  She watched as he bent over to pluck up one of the towels. Nina started to reach for hers, but he stopped her. "Let me," he said.

  Nina stood stock-still while he drew the soft towel around her and slowly, too slowly, began drying her. Only the thickness of the towel lay between his palms and her body. She shot a glance toward the guards, but couldn't see them now for the rocky outcropping that sheltered the sandy paradise.

  Surrendering to the inevitable, she closed her eyes and relished the sensations. Through the stretchy Lycra patches concealing her nipples, the nubby weave of the towel roused her. He lingered there, teasing, then molded her bare waist and hips. His body drew close as his palms and the towel cupped her bottom, moving in a circular motion that drew a groan from deep in her throat.

  "Wet," he whispered close to her ear. He wasn't kidding, she thought as she felt him begin to kneel in front of her. On his way down, his breath and his mouth warmed her cleavage, her midriff, then the top of her thighs.

  Eyes still closed, legs trembling, she braced her hands on his shoulders, hot shoulders, sticky with saltwater and kissed by the afternoon sun.

  Nina forgot about guards and everything else when his lips began branding her just to one side of the triangle of red fabric. His teeth gently grasped the string that held it in place, tugged it away from her and let go. A sharp little sting of pleasure shot through her and she cried out, a definite plea for more.

  "Enough," he gasped and his touch was gone.

  Breathless and shivering, Nina forced her eyes open and saw that he had backed away, holding the towel in front of him while he scrubbed at the center of his chest with one end of it.

  Wordlessly, he crouched, picked up the other towel and tossed it at her. She caught and held it close, unmoving, ignoring the granules that now coated her chest, stomach and the tops of her legs.

  "Get dressed," he ordered. "We need to get out of here."

  Yes. Out of here and back to their suite, she thought numbly. Back to seclusion. Good idea.

  She shook off the fog of desire that held her immobile, turned away from him and snapped the towel sharply to get rid of the sand.

  It took only a minute or so to mop off the remaining seawater and slip her dress over her head. Frustrated, she raked her fingers through her hair, pulling it behind her ears.

  "All right, I'm ready," she said, watching with interest and a little vindication while he struggled to zip his jeans over his arousal.

  "Serves you right," she grumbled.

  To her surprise, he agreed. "Yeah. Sorry."

  She stuffed the damp towel into her tote and trudged back toward the path that would lead them up to the road. He followed, passing her just before they reached the top as she had known he would.

  She bowed to his need to protect and defend. That was, after all, who Ryan was. He was never a beachboy except on break. Never a lover except on break. And his infrequent breaks were brief and timed to the minute, she suspected.

  She couldn't even accuse him of not warning her. The job is who I am, he had said. And even if he could manage interludes such as this afternoon, Nina knew she would never be satisfied living with a man like Ryan. Not while knowing that his first and foremost thoughts at all times centered on his work. It just wasn't enough.

  Ryan kept his hands to himself and his attention firmly focused out the window until they had almost reached the hotel. No way could he return to that room without violating their agreement not to have sex. She wouldn't object. He wouldn't hesitate. And then what?

  He had let himself get entirely too attached to this woman. Had even considered they might have something going that could last awhile. Even tried to broach the subject with his father on the phone.

  What the hell had he been thinking? After she had told him flat out she had considered it a mistake the first time. That it wouldn't be wise. She'd all but said she wanted more than an affair. Anything else was certainly out of the question. She had a life. Why the devil would she want to think about sharing his? It sure wasn't anything to aspire to, now was it?

  Work, work and more work. The infrequent ga
me of poker with people he hardly knew. A bleak-looking apartment that said more about him than he wanted to admit. Yeah, she had noticed all that, all right, and pointed it out with no mercy. Add the occasional dip in the ocean while he committed a desperate act to somehow connect with another human being. No, not just any human being, but the only one he had wanted any connection with in six long years.

  Boy, he had almost lost it today. Came that close to breaking out of the mold that had held him together since tragedy ripped him apart.

  Still, he didn't feel the guilt. What he felt was more curious now than scared about what would happen to him if he changed. Did that mean anything significant? Like maybe he had healed a little while he wasn't looking?

  One thing he did know, there was a lot more thinking he had to do about that before he committed any more acts of lunacy like he had today.

  When the limo pulled up in front of the hotel, he got out with her and rushed her inside. The elevator ride was silent. He unlocked the door to their suite and stood aside for her to enter. When she had, he stayed where he was. "You'll be all right by yourself for a while, won't you?"

  "You're going somewhere?" She turned and frowned up at him.

  "Uh, yeah." He handed her the tote bag with their damp towels. "I'm going to the office for a while." He hadn't left her alone here before. "You will stay put, right?"

  "Yes. What do you want to do about dinner?" she asked, but she already looked resigned to eating alone. He could also see that she understood why he was leaving.

  "I'll stop by the desk and have them send something up for you," he told her.

  "Okay, fine," she said. "Chef's salad and mineral water."

  She sounded defensive and a little bit hurt. That was the last thing he wanted. He tried a smile. "One of those strawberry things, too, huh? With whipped cream?"

  She shrugged and he noticed her bare shoulders were pinkening from their exposure to the sun. He wanted to kiss them, feel the heat on his lips. God, he had to get out of here. Now.

  "I'll be back by nine. Promise," he told her, a real concession when he wanted to stay gone all night just to be on the safe side.