Any hope of stripping Bella out of that little dress and spending the night in a haze of sensual pleasure vanished as something that sounded as if it had more feet than a football team scrabbled across the room.

“Yeah. It’s a little more rustic than I was anticipating.” She scowled at the gloom. “I’m not well versed in the art of abandoned farmhouses. Now what?”

* * *

Bella bit her lip to staunch the flow of frustrated tears. Which didn’t exactly work.

This was all her fault. She’d envisioned a romantic rendezvous with a sexy, exciting man—one she’d looked forward to getting to know very well—and never once had it crossed her mind that “abandoned” didn’t mean that someone had picked up and left a fully functioning house, ready and waiting for her and James to borrow for a night or two. The most strenuous thing she’d expected to do before letting James seduce her was kill a spider in the shower.

Graying sheets covered in cobwebs and dust obscured what she assumed must be furnishings underneath. The farmhouse hadn’t been lived in for a long time. Decades maybe. The property may not even have running water. She shuddered. What had Isabella sent her into?

One tear shook loose and slid down her face.

Without speaking, James took her hand and drew her into his embrace, which immediately calmed her. How had he known that was what she needed? She slid her arms around his waist and laid her head on his strong chest.

Goodness. His athlete’s physique did it for her in so many ways. He was shockingly solid and muscular for someone so lean and her own body woke up in a hurry. Sensation flooded her and she ached for him to kiss her again, as he’d done on the terrace—hot, commanding and so very sexy.

But then he drew back and tipped her chin up, his gaze serious and a bit endearing. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll drive into the village and pick up a few things. I hate to leave you here, but we can’t be photographed together. While I’m gone, see if you can find a way to clean up at least one room.”

His smile warmed her and she returned it, encouraged by his optimism. “You do have a gift for uncomplicating things. I’m a little jealous,” she teased.

“It’ll be smashing. I promise.”

He left and she turned her attention to the great room of the farmhouse. Once she pulled the drapes aside, sunlight shafted into the room through the wide windows, catching on the dusty chandelier. So the house was wired for electricity. That was a plus. Maybe she could figure out how to get it activated—for next time, obviously, because there was a distinct possibility she and James might make long-term use out of this hideaway. Being a princess had to be worth something, didn’t it?

Holding her breath, she pulled the sheets from the furnishings, raising a tornado of dust that made her sneeze. Once all the sheets were in a pile in the corner, she dashed from the room to give all the flurries a chance to settle. Using her phone as a flashlight, she found a broom in one of the closets of the old-fashioned kitchen.

“Cinderella, at your service,” she muttered and carried the broom like a sword in front of her in case she ran into something crawly since her knight had left.

By the time he returned, the sun had started to set. She’d swept the majority of the dust from the room and whacked the cobwebs from the corners and chandelier. The throaty growl of the Lamborghini echoed through the great room as James came up the drive and parked. The car door slammed and James appeared in the open doorway, his arms weighted down with bags.

“Wow.” He whistled. “This place was something back in the day, huh?”

She glanced around at the rich furnishings, which were clearly high-end, even for antiques, and still quite functional if you didn’t mind the grime. “It’s a property owned by royalty. I guess they didn’t spare much expense, regardless of the location. I wonder why no one has been here for so long?”

And why all these lovely antiques were still here, like ghosts frozen in time until someone broke the spell.

“Tantaberra liked Del Sol.” James set his bags down carefully on the coffee table and began pulling out his bounty. “My guess is this was too far out of the limelight and too pedestrian for his taste.”

A variety of candles appeared from the depths of the first bag. James scouted around until he found an empty three-pronged candelabra, screwed tapers into it and then flicked a lighter with his other hand. He shut the front door, plunging the room into full darkness. The soft glow of the candles bathed his face in mellow light and she forgot all about the mystery of this farmhouse as he set the candelabra on the mantel behind the brocade couch.

“Nice. What else did you bring me?” Bella asked, intrigued at the sheer number of bags James had returned with. She’d expected dinner and that was about it.

“The most important thing.” He yanked a plaid blanket from the second bag and spread it out on the floor. “Can’t have you dining on these rough plank floors, now can we?”

She shook her head with a smile and knelt down on the soft blanket to watch him continue unpacking. It seemed as if he’d thought of everything, down to such necessary but unique details as a blanket and candles. It was a quality she would never have thought to admire or even notice. And in James, it was potently attractive.

“Second most important—wine.” He plunked the bottle next to her and pulled out two plastic cups. “Not the finest stemware. Sorry. It was the best I could do.”

His chagrin was heartbreakingly honest. Did he think she’d turn up her nose at his offering? Well, some women probably would, but not Bella.

“It’s perfect,” she said sincerely. “If you’ll give me the corkscrew, I’ll pour while you show me what else you found in town.”

He handed her a small black-cased device of some sort. It looked like a pocketknife and she eyed it curiously until he flicked out the corkscrew with a half laugh. “Never seen one of these before?”

“My wine is typically poured for me,” she informed him pertly with a mock haughty sneer, lady-of-the-manor style. “Cut me some slack.”

Instead of grinning back, he dropped to the blanket and took her hand. “This is a crappy first date. I wish I could have taken you to dinner in Del Sol, like I’d planned. You deserve to be waited on hand and foot and for me to make love to you on silk sheets. I’m sorry that things are so out of control for us right now. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Oh, James.” Stricken, she stared into his gorgeous aqua eyes flickering in the candlelight. “This is exactly what I’ve been envisioning since I got in the car back at the beach. I don’t need a three-hundred-euro dinner. I just want to be with you.”

“You’re a princess,” he insisted fiercely. “I want to treat you like the royalty you are.”

Good grief. Was all this because of the stupid joke she’d made about being high maintenance? Obviously he’d taken her at her word. Backpedaling time.

“You do that every time we’re together. Encouraging me to make my own choices about who I date. Bringing me to the farmhouse simply because I asked, without telling me it was crazy. Holding me when I cry. Being my hero by making this night romantic with ingenuity and flair, despite the less than stellar accommodations. How could I possibly find fault in any of that?”

A little overcome, she stared at him, hoping to impart her sincerity by osmosis. Because he was amazing and somehow verbalizing it made it more real. Who else in her life had ever done such wonderful things for her? No one. Tender, fledgling feelings for James welled up and nearly splashed over.

He scowled. “I did those things because you needed me to. Not because you’re a princess.”

Silly man. He didn’t get what she was saying at all. “But don’t you see? I need someone to treat me like me. Because you see me and aren’t wrapped up in all the royal trappings, which are essentially meaningless at the end of the day.”

That was the mistake her father had made, trying to pawn her off on Will. And Will was nearly as bad. Everyone was far more impressed with her royal pedigree than she ever was. Everyone except James. And now he was being all weird about it.

Just as fiercely, she gripped his hand. “I wasn’t a princess last year and if you’d met me then, wouldn’t you have tried to give me what I needed instead of trying to cater to some idea you have about how a girl with royal blood should expect you to act?”

“Yeah.” He blew out a breath. “I would. I just didn’t want this to be so disappointing for you. Not our first time together.”

Seriously? After the way he’d kissed her on the terrace? There was no freaking way he’d disappoint her, whether it was their first time or hundredth time. The location hardly mattered. She wanted the man, not some luxury vacation. If he thought dollar signs turned her on, she’d done something wrong.

“Our first time together cannot be disappointing, because you’re half the equation,” she chided gently. “I expect fireworks simply because you’re the one setting them off. Okay?”

He searched her expression, brows drawn together. “If you’re sure.”

She caressed his arm soothingly, hoping to loosen him up a little. The romantic candlelit atmosphere was going to waste and that was a shame. “Yeah. Now show me what else is in your magic bag.”

With a grin, he grabbed the last bag. He fished out a roll of salami, which he set by the wine, then lined up a wedge of cheese, boxed crackers and a string of grapes. “Dinner. I wish it—”

“Stop. It’s food and I’m hungry. Sit down and let’s eat it while you tell me stories about growing up in Alma.” Patting the blanket, she concentrated on opening the wine, her one self-appointed task in the evening’s preparations. It was tougher to pierce the cork than she’d anticipated.

Instead of complying with her suggestion, he took the bottle from her hands and expertly popped the cork in under fifteen seconds.

“You’ve done that before,” she accused with a laugh as he poured two very full glasses of the chilled white wine. It was pretty good for a no-name label and she swallowed a healthy bit.

“Yep. I’m a master of all things decadent.” He arched a brow and plucked a grape from the bunch to run it across her lips with slow sensuality that fanned heat across her skin instantly. “Hurry up and eat so I can show you.”

Watching him with unabashed invitation, she let him ease the grape between her lips and accepted it with a swirl of her tongue across the tips of his fingers. His eyelids lowered, fluttering slightly, and he deliberately set his glass of wine on the coffee table, as if to silently announce he planned to use both hands in very short order.

She shuddered as all the newly-awakened feelings for this man twined with the already-powerful attraction. She wanted to explore his depths and let the amazing things happening between them explode. Simple desire she understood and appreciated, but this went beyond anything simple, beyond anything she’d experienced before.

“Or we can do both at the same time,” she suggested, her voice dropping huskily as he trailed his wet fingertip down her chin and throat to trace the line of her cleavage.

“There you go again reading my mind,” he murmured and captured another grape without looking away, his gaze hot and full of promise. “Let’s see if you can guess what I’m thinking now.”

Seven

James outlined Bella’s full lips with the grape and then ran it down her throat, resting it in the hollow of her collarbone. Slowly, he leaned over and drew the fruit into his mouth, sucking at her fragrant skin as he crushed the grape in his teeth simultaneously.

The combination of Bella and sweet juice sang across his taste buds. She was exquisitely, perfectly made and he wanted her with an unparalleled passion that wiped his mind of everything else.

Flinging her head back to give him better access, she gulped in a breath and exhaled on a low moan that tightened his whole body.

“Instead of reading your mind,” she said, her low voice burrowing into his abdomen, spreading heat haphazardly, “why don’t you surprise me with a few more strategically placed grapes?”

“You like that?”

Grapes as a seduction method—that was a first. And now he was wishing he’d bought a bushel. Gripping another one, he traced it between her breasts and circled one of her nipples. It peaked beautifully under the filmy sundress.

How had he gotten so supremely lucky as to have such a beautiful, exciting woman within arm’s reach? One who didn’t require him to rain expensive gifts down on her, but seemed perfectly content with simple trappings and a man paying attention to her.

All the talk of heroics made his skin crawl. She was sorely mistaken if she thought of him as a hero, but the look in her eyes—well, that made him feel ten feet tall, as if he could do anything as long as she believed in him.

The power of it emboldened him.

Urgently, he lunged for her, catching her up in his arms as he laid her back on the blanket. Her lips crashed against his in a hot, wet kiss that went on and on as their tongues explored and dipped and mated. Her body twined with his and finally, she was underneath him, his thigh flush against her core. Her hands went on a mission to discover every part of his back and he reveled in the feminine touch he’d been craving for so long.

Hooking the neckline of her dress, he dragged it from her breast. As her flesh was revealed, he followed the trail with his mouth, nibbling and kissing until his lips closed over her nipple.

She arched against his mouth, pushing herself deeper inside as he reached for a handful of grapes. With little regard for decorum, he lifted his head and crushed the fruit savagely, letting the juice drip onto her peaked nipple. The liquid wetted the tip as she watched with dark eyes; her glistening breast was so erotic, he groaned even as he leaned forward to catch an errant drop on his tongue.

Licking upward until he hit her nipple again, he sucked all the juice off to the sound of her very vocal sighs of pleasure. That nearly undid him.

“I want to see all of you,” he murmured and his need was so great, he didn’t even wait for her reply. Peeling off that little dress counted as one of the greatest pleasures of his life as inch by inch, he uncovered her incredible skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her with a catch in his throat.

Something unnamable had overcome him. Something dramatic and huge. But he liked it and before whatever it was fled, he pulled a string of condoms from his pocket and rolled to the side to shed his own clothes so he could feel every gorgeous bit of her against him.

When he was naked, he rolled back, intending to gather up that bundle of heaven back into his arms, but she stopped him with a palm to his chest. “Not yet. I want to see you, too.”

Her gaze roved over his body and lingered in unexpected places. His thighs. His pectorals. Her palm spread and flattened over his nipple, as if she wanted to grab hold.

When she couldn’t, she purred. “Hard as stone. I like that.”

“I like you touching me.”

“Allow me to continue.” Wicked smile spreading across her face, she ran both hands down the planes of his chest and onto his thighs, right past the area he’d hoped she was headed for. Which of course made him anticipate the return journey.

Her fingernails scraped his leg muscles lightly, and she trailed one hand over his hip to explore his butt, which tightened automatically under the onslaught. Everything tightened with unanswered release, including the parts he’d have sworn were already stretched to the point of bursting.

He groaned as heat exploded under her hands. His hips strained toward her, muscles begging to be set free from the iron hold he had on them. “Are you trying to make me barmy?”

“Nope. Just looking for the best places for when it’s my turn with the grapes.”

“Oh, it’s totally your turn,” he countered. “This is your dinner, too, and you must be hungry.”

“At last.” She knelt, grabbed a grape and eyed his splayed body. “Hmm. Where to start? I know.”

She stuck the grape in her mouth and rolled it around with her tongue, her hot gaze on his erection. Somehow that was more arousing than if she’d actually tongued him. She caught the small globe in her front teeth and bent to run it over his torso, dipping into the valleys and peaks, her hair spreading out like a feathery torture device across his sensitive skin. When she accidentally—or maybe on purpose—dragged her hair over his erection, the light touch lit him up. Fire radiated from the juncture of his thighs outward and just as he was about to cup her head to guide her toward the prize, she leaned up on her haunches.

Plucking the grape from between her lips, she grazed his length with the wet grape, nearly causing him to spill everything in one pulse.

“Enough of that,” he growled, manacling her wrist to draw it away from the line of fire. “You’ve obviously underestimated my appetite. Time for the main course.”

She grinned. “I thought you’d never say that.”

Fumbling with a condom, he somehow managed to get it secured and then rolled her underneath him. He’d been fantasizing about taking her exactly this way for an eternity. Soft and luscious, she slid right into the curves of his body as she had that day in the sand, except this time, nothing separated their skin and it was every bit as glorious as he’d imagined.

“You—” He nearly swallowed his tongue as she shifted, rolling her hips against his. The tips of her breasts ground into his torso, and it all felt so amazing, he couldn’t speak.

And then he didn’t have to speak as he gazed down into her blue eyes. Candlelight danced in their depths and he caught a hint of something else that hit him in the gut. As if she’d seen pieces of him that he’d never realized were there and she liked what she’d found. As if she truly saw him as a hero. Maybe she was the only one who could relate. They were both rebels—to the rest of the world—but his pain and difficulties behind the rebellion made total sense to her.

“Bella,” he murmured and that was the extent of what he could push through his tight throat.

“Right here.” Her low, husky voice became his favorite part of her as it hummed through him. “I was really afraid this would never happen. Make it worth the wait.”

It was already so worth it. Worth the lectures from his father, worth the uncomfortable nobleness he’d somehow adopted when around her. Worth sending her away from him on the terrace when all he’d wanted to do was pull that outrageous red dress up to her waist and make her his under the moonlight.

This way was better. Much better. No fear of being caught. No loaded landmines surrounding them, no paparazzi lying in wait to cause a scandal just because they wanted to be together.

He laid his lips on hers and fell into a long sigh of a kiss that grew urgent as she opened her mouth and dove in with her tongue, heightening the pleasure.

And then with a small shift, they joined. Easily, beautifully, as if she’d been specially crafted for James Rowling. It was almost spiritual and he’d never felt such a weight to being with a woman.

He froze for a moment, just letting her essence bleed through him, and then, determined to get her to the same place of mystical pleasure, he focused on her cries, her shifts, her rhythms. He became an instant student of Bella’s pleasure until he could anticipate exactly what she wanted him to do next to drive her to release.

And then she stiffened as a volatile climax engulfed her that he felt all the way to his soles. He let go and followed her into oblivion, holding her tight because he couldn’t stand to lose contact with her.

As he regained cognizance, he realized she was trying to get closer, too. He settled Bella comfortably in his arms and lay with her to watch the candle flames flicker, throwing shadows of the heavy furniture on the walls of the farmhouse they’d turned into the safest of havens.

This time with Bella...it was the most romantic experience he’d ever had, which sat strangely. For a guy who loved sex and abhorred roots, romance was difficult to come by. Not only had he never had it, he’d never sought it.

Why did something as normal as sex feel so abnormally and hugely different with this woman? He couldn’t make sense of it and it bothered him. As the unsettled feeling grew, he kissed Bella’s forehead and separated from her.

Bustling around to gather up their abandoned wine glasses and remnants of their dinner, he threw a forced smile over his shoulder. “Ready to finish eating?”

She returned the smile, not seeming to realize that he was trying to mask his sudden confusion. “Depends. Is that code for round two? Because the answer is yes, if so.”

Round two. He chugged some wine to give himself a second. Normally, he went for round two like a sailor on shore leave, but the thick, romantic atmosphere and the crushing sensation in his chest when he looked at Bella made him question everything.

What was going on here? This was supposed to be nothing but an opportunity to have fun with Bella, no expectations, no proposals before her brother took the throne.

“No code. Let’s eat.”

What was his problem? A beautiful woman who rocked his world wanted him to make love to her again. Maybe he should just do that, and everything would make sense once they were back to just two people having smashing sex. Will’s bet had hashed everything.

“For now,” he amended. “Got to keep up our strength.”

She grinned and shoved some crackers in her mouth. “All done,” she mumbled around the crackers.

Groaning around a laugh, he sat close to her on the blanket and shook off his strange mood. After all, she was Alma’s only princess. What role did a disgraced football player have in the middle of all that? Especially when he didn’t plan to be living in Alma permanently. In fact, a new contract would get him out from under all of this confusion quite well. He could enjoy a fling with Bella and jet off to another continent. Like always.

Obviously, there was no reason to give any more credence to the heavy weight in his chest.

* * *

There was a huge crick in Bella’s neck, but she actually welcomed the pain. Because she’d gotten it sleeping in James’s arms on a blanket spread over a hardwood floor.

That had been delicious. And wonderful. And a host of other things she could barely articulate. So she didn’t, opting to see what the morning brought in this unconventional affair they’d begun.

Once they were dressed and had the curtains thrown open to let sunlight into the musty great room, she turned to James. “I don’t know about you, but I’m heavily in favor of finding a café that’ll give you a mountain of scrambled eggs, bacon and biscuits in a takeout box. I’m starving.”

He flashed a quick grin. “Careful. That kind of comment now has all sorts of meaning attached. You better clarify whether you want me to feed you or strip you.”

Laughing, she socked him on the arm. “You’re the one who started that with the grapes. And the answer to that is both. Always.”

He caught her hand and held it in his. “I’m only teasing. I’ll go get breakfast. I wish you could come with me. Is it too much to ask that we go on a real date where I sit with you at an actual table?”

“We’ll get there.” She kissed him soundly and shoved him toward the door. “Once I have food in me, we can strategize about the rest of our lives.”

Item number one on the agenda: get this farmhouse in livable shape.

The strange look he shot her put a hitch in her stride and she realized immediately how he must have taken her comment. Okay, she hadn’t meant it like that, as if she was assuming they’d become a dyed-in-the-wool couple and he needed to get down on one knee.

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