Royally Claimed

“Come on, Julia.” He held another out to her, daring her to take it.

She did and cautiously bit into it. Sugar, cinnamon and cream burst on her tongue and she actually moaned. Frank’s fingers dented the corners of the box at the blatantly sexual sound. She finished it quickly and reached into the box for another.

“Not so fast, greedy girl.” He pulled the box away and got out a tart. “If you want another, I’ll give it to you.”

Her nipples tightened and she knew they had passed the point of friendly lunches. The point of no return was rushing up rapidly, and she didn’t want to stop. “What are you waiting for?” she challenged.

“To see if you were ready.”

“I am.” She glared at him and opened her mouth.

He laughed. “You look like you’re at the dentist. Relax.”

Julia forced herself to breathe. He held the pastry to her lips, making her take the next step. She nibbled at the crust, and he scoffed. “You used to be so much braver than this. What happened?”

He had no idea what had happened to her. She opened her mouth wide and snapped down on the tart, barely missing his fingers. “That better?” she asked, once she had finished chewing.

Frank tossed the tart box to the side. “Finally a sign of passion.” He dragged her into his arms. She expected him to kiss her right away, but instead he looked down into her face. “Julia.” It was full of wonder and tenderness. “After all these years.”

“It shouldn’t be any longer.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. They moaned simultaneously as their lips met.

She wanted to weep, to sing, to dance around the park. Here he was, and he was kissing her, the pent-up passion bursting free from both of them.

His mouth was soft and warm as he explored the contours of hers. He pressed kisses along the seam of her lips, nibbling at her full bottom lip.

She sighed in pleasure and opened to his further exploration. He flicked his tongue inside to meet hers, tasting of sweet pastry and coffee. She ran her tongue along his and pressed closer to him. His hands tightened on her shoulders and he groaned deep in his throat.

Julia’s head spun, as if she had been living in a gray world and it suddenly turned into color. As if she had only eaten watery oatmeal for years and was offered a banquet instead. Frank was a feast for her senses, wine for her thirst.

He brushed her hair aside and trailed kisses down her neck. How did he remember what she liked? She ran her fingers through his thick black hair, enjoying how it fell into waves under her touch. Heat poured off him, engulfing her in quiet flame.

Their silent solace was interrupted by the angry buzzing of an engine. She dragged her eyes open to see a wide-eyed park gardener butchering the grass in wobbly stripes thanks to his inattentiveness.

“Frank.” She pushed at his shoulders but may as well have been pushing at the park’s statue for all the good it did. He fastened his mouth on the hollow below her ear and sucked, causing her to nearly see stars. Good Lord, if only he could do that elsewhere…

But she also knew how much he would dislike being the focus of gossip. “Frank, we have company.” She tried shoving him again and this time he raised his head.

His olive skin was flushed with desire, his eyes black with lust, hypnotizing her as if he were a dangerous lion and she were his prey. He could devour her anytime.

He shook his head as if coming back to himself and glared at the nosy gardener. The young man immediately turned back to his work and Frank’s mouth tightened. “Come with me.” He stood and took her hand in his.

They ducked out of sight down a small pathway. He stopped under a tree. “Julia, I want to see you again.”

She crazily considered inviting him home, or rather to her parents’ apartment. Ugh. Not that. “When?”

“As soon as possible. I have to take our supplies back to Belas Aguas, but it is only a half hour by boat.” Belas Aguas, Beautiful Waters, was his family’s private island, in their possession for hundreds of years.

A faint ache was starting in the side of her head, a warning to get home and lie down before it grew. “Tomorrow.” She didn’t want to discuss her injury yet, and she was already overwhelmed.

“Tomorrow.” He looked disappointed but kissed her gently. “You have a phone here?”

They exchanged numbers, Julia’s fingers fumbling over the keypad as she entered his. “Frank…” She stared up at him, her headache tightening.

“You look pale again.” He tucked her hand in his elbow. “I’ll take you home so you can rest. I’ll pick you up at one tomorrow. We can have lunch at the villa if you’re up for a boat ride.”

“I’ll be fine.” She waved her free hand.

“Good.” He guided her out of the park and through the streets, chatting to her about the plans for Stefania’s wedding. “The wedding is in June at the big cathedral in their country of Vinciguerra. I’ve been helping Stefania with some things, like choosing colors, invitations and flowers. It’s amazing what you can do with webcam conferencing. And it helps to have their country’s department of protocol doing the heavy lifting.” He laughed. “My mother told me I had no idea how much work went into planning a high-society wedding, much less a royal wedding. She was right. But everything is just what Stefania wants, so that’s all that matters.”

Julia smiled. Frank, macho nobleman and rancher, had thrown himself into wedding preparations. She wondered if he had ever come close to planning a wedding for himself. Maybe she’d break her self-imposed rule and look him up on the internet. She never had before, somehow knowing keeping tabs on him would only make their separation worse.

She pointed out the turn to her parents’ street and they climbed the small hill to the old farmhouse. Working in his garden, Senhor de Sousa eyed them with avid curiosity as they passed. Frank called out a greeting, and her neighbor bobbed his head respectfully, obviously knowing who Frank was.

Frank guided her up the steps and into the small living room. She was acutely aware of her bedroom right around the corner, but the only thing she wanted to do was lie down—alone.

“I should leave right away.” Frank smiled down at her. “Your reputation is on the line.”

“Hmmph.” She wasn’t used to considering the state of her virtue, but small-town gossip about her would reflect poorly on her mother and dad.

“But I do have time for this.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on her mouth. She caught his shoulders and pulled him close. His lips moved over hers gently, then more demanding. She moved in close to him, intoxicated by his clean scent, his hot masculinity. She opened her mouth to him and he slid his tongue inside to caress hers. Her arms curved around his neck and he backed her against the small couch. She almost lost her balance and he steadied her.

Once he was sure she had her balance, he groaned and moved away. “Julia, you tempt me terribly. I am putty in your hands.”

She’d bet he’d be a lot firmer than that. But she managed to back away, putting the table between them. “My parents…” she gestured.

“Of course. This is their home.” He rubbed his face. “One o’clock tomorrow. We can have lunch on the terrace at the villa. I’ll send Benedito to the far side of the island and have him cut weeds or something.”

“Frank!” she scolded. “He seems perfectly nice.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t let his cheerful elfin looks fool you. He’s a thorn in my side.”

“But he’s your right hand.”

“That, too.” Frank smiled at her. “Enough about Benedito. Tomorrow is for us.”

“Okay.” Her voice suddenly sounded breathy and seductive. He noticed that as well, running his gaze down her body.

“Tomorrow.” He took a deep breath, repeating her words as if he were promising himself—and her—a treat. “Lock the door behind me.” He winked and left.

Julia blew out a long breath. She had the sneaking suspicion that she would have asked him to stay, parents’ home or no, if her head had been feeling better.

She went into the kitchen and took a pain pill with some fresh juice before lying down in her lonely bed. She pulled a quilt over herself, but it was no substitute for a warm male body. Was it a good idea to invite Frank to share her bed? She just couldn’t decide. Her mind was telling her no but her body, well, it had a mind of its own.

4

BENEDITO HAD BEEN uncharacteristically quiet on the boat ride back to Frank’s family’s island. The two men carried several boxes of food and building supplies into the villa.

Frank set a bag of bread, meat and cheese on the large oak worktable in the center of the kitchen.

Benedito set a couple bottles of red wine next to it. “I will get more wine tomorrow, but this should be enough for tonight.”

Frank nodded, but he wasn’t about to drink a whole bottle on his own and show up hungover to pick up Julia. Benedito had an inordinate capacity for vinho and would not show a single bad after-effect.

The kitchen was bigger than most in the Azores, the stove and oven wall tiled in blue-and-red Portuguese tiles and inset oak cabinets. The exposed walls had been sponge-painted peach and gold over beige in some unfortunate past decade and Frank was planning to change that. The master bathroom was powder pink, his mother’s favorite color, but probably not Stefania’s, the bride-to-be’s.

On the other hand, Stefania and her groom probably didn’t give a fig about the wall color and only wanted a big soft bed. That certainly had been his first priority when he and Julia had stayed there.

Unfortunately they had leapt before they looked, straight into bed. He didn’t ever regret making love with her, but in the end, it hadn’t been enough to keep them together. What a miracle that had brought them both back to the Azores at the same time.

Somehow the uncanny Benedito had read his mind. “Don Franco, did you have a nice lunch with the senhorina?”

“How did you know I had lunch with her?” He made cheese and sausage sandwiches on crusty bread for him and Benedito and put the rest of the food away.

“The waiter is my second cousin’s daughter-in-law’s brother.” Benedito opened one bottle of wine and a plastic container of marinated olives from the farmers’ market. He poured the wine and ate the olives out of the container with his gnarled fingers. Benedito abandoned his manners with gusto when he was away from his wife.

He offered some to Frank, who gave up on his own manners and accepted. Pure heaven. “A close family connection,” he said sardonically. “Yes, we had a nice lunch and then had coffee and pastéis de nata in the park.” He’d left the box with Julia—she looked as if she could stand to gain some weight.

“Ah, yes, the park.” Benedito nodded knowingly. “Quite the box of pastéis it was.” He made a zipping motion across his lips and winked.

“How do you know that? Were you skulking in the shrubbery or is the gardener there your nephew?” He restrained himself from chucking an olive—or the entire container—at Benedito’s head.

“Leonor’s nephew.”

“Of course.” Frank sighed. A fishbowl of a life, that’s what he led. And of course, Benedito had ducked the question if he had indeed been skulking in the shrubbery. It was fair to say Frank wouldn’t have noticed if the entire Portuguese Army had been doing reconnaissance missions in the bushes. He finished his sandwich and turned on his laptop to do some business. “Benedito, can you install the new faucet in the downstairs powder room? The old one is leaking.” If Benedito was busy, maybe he would stop bugging Frank.

No such luck. “Senhorina Julia certainly is beautiful.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Frank stared at his email program, mentally willing him to go away. Two dozen emails from various people on his estates.

“She is very smart, an advanced nurse in a big American hospital, according to her neighbors.”

“Yes.” Good Lord, the old man had been busy this afternoon.

“A wonderful companion for any red-blooded man.”

That was hovering on the border of disrespect, even if Frank knew exactly what he was talking about and agreed one hundred percent. He lifted his eyebrow and scowled at Benedito.

“Will you be seeing the senhorina again?” the old man pressed.

“Maybe if I can get some privacy for once!” Frank shouted, finally losing his temper. “With waiters and gardeners and neighbors all reporting back to you as if you were my guardian and I were a virginal princess out in the world for the first time? How do you expect me to do anything with her? Tell me that!”

“Ah, to be alone.” Benedito nodded, his eyes wide, as if the idea of privacy was a new and strange concept. To him, of course, it was. “Don Franco, if you would excuse me, I have to check on some building supplies.”

“Fine, go.” Frank waved his hand and forced himself to read his email from the mainland. Problems with wine caskets, grapevines, animals needing the vet, two of his fieldhands fighting over the same girl. Fortunately, relatively small things, although Frank recalled the girl in question being quite pretty and flirtatious. And with a mean, burly father. He toyed with the idea of inquiring whether the two fieldhands had turned up with black eyes and fat lips received after their fight, but the more he stayed out of their personal business, the more smoothly it ran.

Involving the Duke in romantic quarrels would bring shame and embarrassment upon the parties involved. Better that the Duke focused on his own romantic problems. And even better that the Duke stopped referring to himself in the third person.

Frank grinned and immersed himself in estate business for the next couple hours, thoughts of Julia always at the edges of his mind.

Benedito popped into the kitchen again. “Boa tarde, Don Franco.”

“Yes, good evening to you, too. Did you take care of those building supplies?”

“Yes, and picked up the paint, as well.”

“Paint? But we never chose any colors.”

“But I did, Don Franco. So you would have more time to spend with the young lady.” Benedito nodded conspiratorially.

Frank bit back a groan and thanked him. What hideous palette did Benedito choose?

“And Don Franco, I received a call from the mainland.”

“You did?” He didn’t even know Benedito had a cell phone.

“Yes, yes.” Benedito waved his hands impatiently. “Leonor, my beloved wife…” He paused dramatically.

“Yes, I know who she is.” Leonor was the housekeeper at the fazenda. In addition to the traditional agricultural holdings for an annual pittance Frank leased use of several outbuildings for small local businesses and artists’ studios. It boosted local income and kept families together since they didn’t have to send the men and young people off to Lisbon for jobs.

“Leonor needs me at home.”

“Is she all right?” Frank asked. Leonor had the constitution of a mule and if local legend was correct, had last been ill in the early 1980s—a mild cold.

“She, ah…she, well…she has, um, female problems!” Benedito finished triumphantly.

Frank supposed it was possible, not being in that line of work, although Leonor had to be in her late sixties. But the magical phrase “female problems” was like playing the ace in a game of poker—the trump card that nobody argued with. “Female problems.”

“Yes, yes. Oh, terrible female problems.” Benedito shuddered at the horror, whether real or imagined.

“And I suppose they came on suddenly and you need to rush back to the fazenda to help care for her.”

“Oh, Don Franco, I am glad you understand.”

Frank clapped him on the back. “I do indeed. When do we leave?”

“We?” Benedito’s dismay was comical. “No, no, Don Franco, it would be a sin, a sin, I tell you, if my poor little problems were to take you away from your business here in the islands.” He drew himself up. “I will call my wife and tell her—” he paused for effect “—that you need me here. She will manage.” He looked nobly across the sea toward the mainland, the brave husband separated from his ailing wife.

Oh, bravo. Frank was ninety-nine percent convinced Benedito was lying through his coffee-stained teeth, but what if Leonor were indeed ill?

“Oh, go on. Go home.” He waved his hand at Benedito.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Benedito clutched his hand, but when he bent to kiss it, Frank had enough.

“No more of the grateful peasant routine! Why aren’t you more agreeable to me the rest of the time?”

Benedito widened his eyes. “Your Grace, I have no idea what you mean.”

Frank decided to see if Benedito actually had a phone or was lying even more. “Call the blasted airline and change your return flight.”

His eyes darted back and forth. “My phone, the battery failed just as I was saying goodbye to my dear wife. It stopped right in the middle of hearing her precious voice, right in the middle of our tender farewells…”

Frank tossed him his phone, cutting off the rest of his nauseating description. “Here, use this.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Benedito said meekly, turning his back to make his call.

“Peasants,” Frank grumbled. “Everything went to hell when we were no longer allowed to whip them.”

The older man’s shoulders stiffened in outrage and Frank grinned. Served him right, although he had his doubts about being able to best Benedito in a physical fight. The wily old man undoubtedly fought dirty. Still, Frank was glad to get in the last word. For once.

“YOUR FAUCET IS INSTALLED, Your Grace,” Benedito announced in long-suffering tones, coming up behind Frank as he waded through a dreary email announcement of new rules from the ministry of agriculture. “I skinned my knuckles on the old sink and I think they are infected.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Too soon for infection. Let me see.” He gestured to Benedito to extend his hand for inspection.

“Eh, what do you know about injuries?” Benedito clutched his hand to his chest. “Maybe I should go to São Miguel.”

“The hospital? If you’re seriously injured, I’ll take you over there myself.”

“Pah, the hospital!” Benedito spat. “Full of germs and sick people.”

“Well, yes. They do have both of those.”

“I was thinking that pretty nurse could look at my wounds.”

“Julia?”

“Yes, Senhorina Julia, with the beautiful black hair.” Benedito sounded half in love with her already.

Frank beat down a weird jealous twinge. For goodness’ sake, Benedito was old enough to be her father. “Oh, let me see this mangled hand of yours.”

After a brief tussle where Benedito refused to show Frank his hand, Frank finally got it yanked away and looked. “Those three scrapes? Your wife would fall on the ground laughing if you asked her to take you to the hospital for that.”

He jerked his arm away. “My wife is not here. She is ailing, poor woman, and I am alone on this island with an unsympathetic duke who mocks my injury.”

“How about some disinfectant spray and bandages? Besides, you’re flying home to the mainland, when?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Maybe when you take your wife to the doctor for her ‘female problems,’ they can look at your hand.”

Benedito pursed his lips. “If Your Grace refuses…”

“I’m not taking you to see Julia for skinned knuckles. Do you know how hard I had to work to get her to go to lunch with me? And she’s coming to the island for the afternoon tomorrow as soon as I drop you at the airport.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Benedito beamed at him as if he were a particularly stupid student who had finally done something smart. Whistling a ribald folktune, he strutted over to the sink and scrubbed his fingers without even wincing.

“Why, you old faker!” Frank didn’t know whether to throw something at him or give him a raise. “You were looking for an excuse to get me to see her again?”

His only reply was an innocent shrug. “I feel much better already. Perhaps it is your healing presence.”

“I’m a duke, not a saint. Now, don’t you have some packing to do?”

“I have plenty of work to do before I leave, Don Franco. But continue your own work. You will not hear a peep from old Benedito.”

That was what worried him. Like his sisters’ kids, Benedito was only quiet when looking for trouble.

He shook his head as Benedito scooted out of the kitchen. Frank’s phone rang and he answered. “George?”

“Frank, glad I caught you.” It was his best friend from college and brother of the bride. George’s relaxed voice came over the satellite connection. Of course he always sounded relaxed, being in love with Renata, his beautiful and sexy American fiancée. “How have you been?”

“Keeping busy with getting the villa in order. It just needs some cosmetic work and a bit of cleaning.”

“Oh, so you’re in the Azores? I was wondering why the connection took a little while longer. How is it?”

“Lovely as ever.”

“What? You hate being out there anymore. The last couple times you barely stayed long enough to get your luggage off the boat.”

Frank grinned. “Let’s just say things are coming full circle.”

“What? I better call Jack. You sound like you’ve taken too much cold medication.”

“George…” He rolled his eyes but greeted Jack dutifully. George and Frank had been his best men at Jack’s whirlwind wedding in Philadelphia last summer. George had met Lily, Jack’s beautiful American bride, and they had all gone out for cheesesteaks and fries. Yum.

“Frank’s in the Azores,” George announced. “And he’s enjoying himself.”

“That’s great. Congratulate me, mes amis!” Jack cried. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I can’t wait to announce to you, my brothers—Lily and I are having a baby.”

A stunned hush fell over the group.

“A baby,” Frank finally choked out, fighting back bittersweet memories. “Jack, that’s wonderful.”

“Amazing.” George’s voice sounded husky, as well. “And how is your lovely wife feeling?”

“Ah, not so good.” He lowered his voice. “I tried to tell her that illness is a good sign that the hormones are strong and working well, but all she did was call me bad names. In French, no less. She picked it up from the farm workers—I’ll have to take my manager to task for allowing such vulgarity.” But he sounded giddy and not about to punish anybody.

“Renata and I are going to have a baby,” George announced.

“What?” they chorused.

“No, not now. As soon as Renata and I are married. I cannot have the next Prince of Vinciguerra born less than nine months after our wedding. Just my luck he would be a ten-pound baby and nobody would believe he was early.”

Frank nodded. “Don’t want any doubt about succession to the throne.”

“Exactly,” George agreed. “But enough about babies—at least for now, Jack. Do keep us posted.”

“But of course. How is your lovely island, Frank?”

“About to get lovelier at one o’clock tomorrow.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you remember, but many, many years ago, I stayed the summer here.”

“Yes?” they answered cautiously, remembering the terrible autumn that had followed when Frank had become a mess, a zombie unable to function without Julia.

“I don’t know if it is fate or luck, but I am here—and so is she.”

“She? You mean Julia?” George knew that name well, having listened to Frank cry in his beer for weeks.

“But how can that be? Did you find her and invite her?” Jack sounded confused.

“Her parents live here now and she was visiting them. They are back in the States with elderly relatives, and I have her all to myself.”

“Oh.” George paused for a couple seconds. “And how is Julia?” he asked politely.

“Single and more beautiful than ever.”

“Please, Frank, just be careful,” Jack urged him. “People do change after all these years. You are different. She will be different. You cannot expect to pick up where you left off.”