Tempted By The Royal

But he got the impression there was something going on in her life that weighed on her mind, that was responsible for the shadows beneath her eyes and the wariness in her gaze. Or maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe her exhaustion was simply the result of having been up too late last night and needing to be up again early this morning. Knowing the hours that she worked, he was glad she’d managed to shut down and rest for a few hours during their journey.

He was also glad she’d agreed to come to Tesoro del Mar in advance of the wedding. Not that there was a lot of planning to do—the palace staff would take care of most of the details without blinking an eye, as they’d done for the prince regent’s wedding six years earlier and the celebration of Marcus’s nuptials three years after that.

One of the perks of being a royal, as Marcus liked to say, was having staff to whom to delegate. Ironic, considering that Marcus had met his wife while traveling in the United States under their mother’s maiden name so as to keep his royal status hidden, and had spent several months having tasks—such as mucking out stalls at his wife’s Thoroughbred training facility—delegated to him. Of course, she hadn’t been his wife at the time, and she hadn’t been thrilled to learn the true identity of her stable hand, but once again, their feelings for one another had proven stronger than any of the obstacles between them—one of which had been the accident that ended Eric’s naval career.

He felt a twinge in his hip and shifted in his seat. A phantom pain was brought on by even the most fleeting flashback of the moment that had changed his life. He was getting more adept at pushing the memories—and the accompanying panic—aside. He did so now, focusing his thoughts again on his friend’s imminent wedding.

No one outside of the family had ever been married at the palace, but Rowan and Marcus had both agreed that Scott was part of their family even if it wasn’t Santiago blood in his veins.

After Marcus and Jewel married, there had been a lot of speculation throughout the media that Eric would be next—which he had to agree was likely since he was the last unmarried Santiago brother and his oldest nephew was still just a teenager. And he certainly had no philosophical or personal objections to marriage—he’d just never met a woman who made him think in terms of forever. He’d never even met a woman who lingered in his mind after he’d left her bed…until Molly.

He turned away from the window to confirm that she was still sleeping. She was, and in sleep, her worries seemed to finally—if only temporarily—be forgotten. Her features were relaxed, the dark fan of her lashes casting a shadow against her pale cheek. He knew her skin was soft, and smoother even than the finest silk. And hidden beneath her lashes were eyes of the most startling and vivid shade of blue, eyes that had darkened and clouded in the throes of passion, the color shifting and changing not unlike the moods of a turbulent sea.

Mi Dios, he was getting turned on just by watching her sleep. Watching her sleep and remembering, and remembering—wanting.

Sexual frustration was a new—and not at all pleasant—experience for him. In the past, whenever he’d wanted the companionship of a woman, it had been easy enough to come by. But after the accident he’d turned his attention to rehabilitation. He’d been so intensely focused on healing his body that he hadn’t allowed anything to distract him from the task. Not until the night he’d walked into Shea’s Bar & Grill and spotted Molly working the tap.

Almost three years of abstinence seemed a reasonable explanation for the extent of his reaction to her, and his response to the experience of making love with her. Afterward, he managed to convince himself that the sex hadn’t really been as spectacular as he remembered, that it was just so long since he’d had sex that the experience only seemed heightened.

And yet, back in Tesoro del Mar, where the women were plentiful and beautiful and willing, there hadn’t been one who had tempted him into her bed. Not one who tempted him to forget about Molly.

She shifted, her head rolling from one side to the other. She hadn’t reclined her seat—probably because she hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but exhaustion had won out. A slight furrow creased her brow as she shifted again, still asleep but obviously not very comfortable. She drew up one knee and leaned back so that her head fell against his shoulder.

Her hair tickled his cheek, the scent of her shampoo teased his nostrils, and he held his breath while he waited for her to wake. She didn’t, but snuggled in, apparently finding a position that was finally comfortable—at least for her. Because while he didn’t mind having her close, he was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her nearness, her softness, her femininity—and everything that was male within him responded.

He glanced over at Scott and Fiona, saw that they were still cuddled close together, talking quietly, so he just shifted his seat back and settled in, while Molly’s scent—and his desire—continued to torment him.

Chapter Six

Molly woke just as the wheels touched down on land. But even when she felt the plane make contact with the runway, it took a moment for that fact to penetrate her consciousness. She’d been so tired lately—physically and mentally exhausted. Even when she slept, her sleep had been restless, unsettled. But this time, she awoke feeling rested and refreshed—at least until she realized that she’d been using Eric as a pillow.

She jolted upright, her face flaming. “I…um…sorry,” was the best apology she could manage to stammer out.

His smile was slow, easy. “No need to be embarrassed,” he said, speaking softly so that Scott and Fiona, seated across from them, wouldn’t hear his words. “After all, it isn’t the first time you’ve fallen asleep in my arms.”

“But it will be the last,” she muttered in response.

“Your choice, of course,” he assured her, unbuckling his seat belt.

Molly fumbled with hers, unfamiliar with the mechanism. Eric watched her struggle for a moment before reaching over to release the clasp.

She held her breath as the backs of his knuckles brushed against her middle. Through the soft cotton of her T-shirt, her stomach quivered in response to the brief contact that reminded her not just of the baby that was nestled deep in her womb, but that it was his baby.

And in that moment, she really wanted to tell him. She wanted to share the joy and excitement of every minute of her pregnancy with him. But aside from the fact that an airplane probably wasn’t the most appropriate place to share the news, especially with their friends seated across from them, there was the fear that he might not share her joy and excitement.

And if his reception of the news was less than enthusiastic, she shouldn’t be surprised. Even she’d been more shocked than pleased when Dr. Morgan had advised her of the pregnancy, and though she already loved her baby more than she would ever have thought was possible, she knew she couldn’t expect that Eric would feel the same. Which was why she knew it was important to choose the right time and place—and then to give him time and space to absorb the news and consider all of the implications.

No, it was definitely not the-airplane-has-just-landed-and-he’s-so-close-that-I-can’t-even-think-straight-because-my-hormonesare-running-riot kind of news.

Instead, she only said, “Thank you.”

He released the ends of her seat belt. “You’re welcome.”

The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek, and a wave of heat washed over her, leaving her weak and flushed.

It was as if every nerve ending in her body was attuned to him, sending tingles of awareness and wanting through her system every time he even glanced in her direction. She’d never responded to anyone as she responded to him.

She wanted to blame it on the pregnancy, all those hormones running amok through her system, but she knew it was Eric.

Because the fact was, she wouldn’t be pregnant if she hadn’t had the same instinctive response to him from the very beginning.

The limo driver took them along the coast, so that they were flanked by rolling green hills on one side and powdery sand and crystal blue waters on the other. It was all so peaceful now, but Molly imagined that could change in the blink of an eye, that a storm could churn up the water so that the waves lashed against the rocks like angry sea monsters.

A fanciful thought, she knew, encouraged by the inherent beauty and mystery of this land that could make her imagination run as wild as it had when she was a child. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising that she was remembering childhood dreams—after all, she was riding with a prince on the way to his castle. She just had to remember that this wasn’t a magical enchantment and she wasn’t looking for a “happily ever after” ending.

Still, there were thoughts and ideas swirling through her mind that she vowed to jot down at the earliest opportunity. And when she caught her first glimpse of the royal palace, she couldn’t entirely stifle her gasp of surprised pleasure.

It stood high atop a jutting cliff, a stunning structure of towers and turrets that was both more imposing and impressive than she could have imagined. She’d been curious enough to do some reading about the Santiago family and knew they had ruled long and ruled well, and she sensed that this castle, standing strong and proud on the hill, wasn’t just a symbol to the people of Tesoro del Mar but a promise.

Another fanciful thought, perhaps, and while she’d been prepared for a fairy tale—something reminiscent of a little girl’s misty-edged dreams—the reality was somehow even better.

The driver parked at the bottom of a set of wide stone steps that led up to a pair of imposing wooden doors that looked as if they could withstand the attack of a medieval battering ram. Those massive doors opened into an entranceway that was bigger than Molly’s entire apartment, with a floor made of marble and walls papered in something that added hints of both shimmer and depth. Sun streamed through the tall arched windows that bracketed the doors, bathing the space in warmth and light, and fresh flowers spilled out of tall vases so that the air was perfumed with their fragrant scent.

They were greeted by a housekeeper who curtsied to the prince before advising that the guests’ rooms were ready. Eric thanked and assured her that he would show them the way, then directed them up the curving stairs to the second floor, then the third. He guided them down a wide hallway, where the sound of their steps was muffled by the plush carpet. The walls were hung with pictures and tapestries, and the windows draped with velvet curtains.

Fiona and Scott were delivered to their suite before Eric led Molly a little bit farther down the hall.

“Your rooms overlook the gardens,” he told her.

Not a room but rooms, she noted, as he opened an ornately carved door and led her into a sitting room that boasted a couple of richly upholstered chairs on either side of a stone fireplace and an antique writing desk and balloon-back chair. Behind the desk was a window, wide and multipaned, with the promised view of gardens that boasted a stunning array of vibrant colors and exotic scents.

Through the sitting room was the bedroom with a tall chest of drawers and matching bedside table of gleaming cherrywood and a wide bed topped with a thick duvet and piled with fluffy pillows. The bathroom was half the size of the bedroom again, with a deep whirlpool tub and separate shower, toilet and pedestal sink.

“If you need anything, you only need to ring for housekeeping,” he told her, gesturing to the phone beside the bed.

“You might need a crowbar to pry me out of here after the wedding,” she warned.

“Then maybe you’ll decide to stay,” he said, sounding as if he meant it.

“You know I can’t,” she told him.

But there was a part of her that already wished she could.

Eric had decided to give Molly space.

As much as he was eager to spend time with her and anxious to show off his homeland, he had sensed a new wariness in her since they’d landed in Tesoro del Mar—as if she knew that he now had the home turf advantage and was waiting to see how he would use it. He decided it couldn’t hurt to let her wait—and wonder—a little while longer.

It was Fiona who gave him the opportunity, and the opening, he’d been hoping for. Saturday morning, only their third full day on the island, he found her alone by the pool.

“Lose your fiancé already?” he teased.

“He went down to the stables to take a ride with Rowan and Christian.”

“What about Molly?” he asked, with what he thought was casual interest.

“She should be down shortly.” But she frowned when she said it. “You’re supposed to be relaxing not worrying,” Eric told her, lowering himself onto the edge of the vacant lounger beside hers. “I assure you, all the wedding details are being taken care of.”

“I’m not worrying about the wedding,” she said.

“But you’re worried about something.”

She sighed. “Molly.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I know she argued with her sister before we left Texas, although that’s not really unusual. And even before that—for the past several weeks now—she’s seemed really distracted. As if she’s worried about something but she won’t tell me what it is.”

“She probably figures you have enough on your mind right now.”

“She used to tell me everything,” Fiona said. “I don’t have any siblings, and although Molly does, we’ve always been as close as sisters. Closer than Molly and Abbey, that’s for sure, especially after the stunt Abbey pulled with Jason.”

“Molly’s ex-fiancé?”

“How did you know they were engaged?” she asked curiously.

“I saw them talking at the restaurant one day, and she told me.”

“That’s not usually something she talks about,” Fiona mused.

“Bad break-up?” he wondered aloud.

“Obviously she didn’t tell you everything.”

“What more is there?”

“The fact that he’s now Abbey’s husband.”

“Molly’s sister married Molly’s former fiancé?”

“He was still current when Abbey seduced him.” Fiona winced. “I can’t believe I told you that. But I figured if you’d met Jason, you knew he was Abbey’s husband.”

No, Molly had conveniently neglected to mention that fact, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. He’d asked about the guy he saw her with. She’d used his status as an ex to remind Eric that she wasn’t his—a lightweight reminder if he knew that the ex was married to someone else.

“I know it sounds like something out of a soap opera, but that’s exactly what happened. And though Molly keeps insisting that she’s over him, I wonder if a person can ever get over that kind of betrayal. I worry that she won’t ever open up her heart to anyone else.”

“That’s not something you can make happen,” he told her, knowing—and regretting—that it was true.

“I know,” she admitted. “It’s just that she’s my best friend, and while no one else might have noticed the change, I’ve seen it. She still smiles and laughs and even dates occasionally, but she’s so guarded now, so careful not to get too close to anyone.

“I’d hoped that coming here would be good for her. She needed a change of scenery, a change of pace, but she’s been so preoccupied lately, obviously worried about something.”

“Give her some time,” he suggested. “It’s only day three.”

“I know.” She picked up her bottle of sunscreen, reapplied the lotion to her shoulders and arms. “And you’ve already done so much—none of this would be possible without you and I know I won’t ever be able to repay you, but I really want to ask you for another favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Would you—if you had some free time—mind showing Molly around the island? It might take her mind off whatever is bothering her.”

And Eric realized there were times when opportunity didn’t just knock, it threw open the door and tossed out a welcome mat.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” he said.

Despite his claim that he wanted to spend time with her when they were on the island, Molly hadn’t seen a lot of Eric since they’d arrived in Tesoro del Mar. Though she tried not to dwell on the fact of his title, he was a prince and, as such, obviously had royal duties to fulfill. What those duties were she couldn’t even begin to guess, but obviously they took up a lot of his time.

Not that she’d left her own responsibilities behind. She called the restaurant daily for an update, usually talking to Karen rather than Jason because Karen had been at Shea’s a long time. Molly trusted that she would tell her if there were any problems with the nighttime shifts. So far, everything was running smoothly, which should have reassured Molly but somehow made her feel extraneous instead—and left her with far too much time to think about Eric.

Aside from being wildly attracted to him, during the past couple of weeks in Texas, she’d actually started to like him and enjoy spending time with him—or she would if she could only forget he was a prince.

Since landing in Tesoro del Mar, she hadn’t been able to forget that for a minute.

Upon their arrival at the palace, he’d been bowed and curtsied to more times than she could count. He didn’t seem to demand or even expect such deference, but he accepted it. As the second oldest son—no, he was the third born, she remembered now. Fiona had briefed her on the history of the royal family, including the tragic story of how Prince Julian—who had ruled the country prior to Rowan becoming prince regent—and his wife, Princess Catherine, had been killed by a freak explosion on their yacht. As a result, Prince Rowan had inherited not only the throne but custody of his older brother’s three children.

He seemed to have adapted to sudden parenthood well, as evidenced by the close bond he shared with Christian, Lexi and Damon, as well as his two children with Lara—the former royal nanny.

Matthew and William were two of the most adorable kids Molly had ever seen. When introduced to Rowan and Lara’s children, her first thought had been that they both bore a strong resemblance to their uncle Eric. Then she met Rowan and realized the dark hair and eyes and strong bone structure weren’t specific to Eric but were family traits.

In fact, she nearly did a double take the first time she saw the prince regent, which prompted Scott to say, “Marcus and Eric look even more alike. When we were kids, people were constantly getting the two of them confused—which we learned to exploit whenever possible.”

Eric had smiled at that. “Remember when the gardener swore he’d seen me running through his freshly planted flowerbeds and Nanny Adele argued, just as vehemently, that I’d been in the pool with you when it happened?”

“Marcus was the one who raced through the dirt,” Molly guessed.

“No, it was Eric,” Scott admitted now. “But seeing Marcus in the pool—conveniently wearing Eric’s bathing suit to confuse everyone further—made the gardener question his conviction, which meant that Prince Eduardo couldn’t be sure who should be punished.”

“So you got away with trampling the flowers?” she asked Eric.

He shook his head. “No—we all got punished. My father was a big believer in taking responsibility for one’s actions, and he personally supervised while Marcus and I replanted the whole garden. And he made Scott water the flowers, because he was an accessory.”

She’d smiled as she’d listened to their retelling of the story, amused by their boyhood antics and pleased to hear the respect and affection in his voice when he talked about his father, confident that he would want to develop that same solid relationship with his own child.

But she still didn’t know how he would react to the news that he was going to be a father himself, and she still hadn’t figured out how to share that news when the wedding was finally over.

Right now, however, she was more concerned about what she was going to wear for dinner with Fiona and Scott and Eric because tonight, for the first time since the night of their arrival of the palace, he was free of whatever obligations had kept him occupied and was taking them all out.

She was scanning the meager contents of her closet when her cousin slipped into her room. Fiona held up the dress she was carrying so that Molly could appreciate the simple sheath style in a silky fabric that was somewhere between blue and green and absolutely stunning.

“How did you know I’d have nothing to wear?”

“Because I know you and you wouldn’t have thought to pack much beyond your bridesmaid dress, a bathing suit and a toothbrush.”

“I thought you were bringing the bridesmaid dress.”

Fiona’s face actually paled. “You didn’t—”

“Kidding,” Molly interrupted, and grinned.

Her cousin huffed out a breath. “Not funny.”

“It was funny,” she countered. “It just wasn’t very nice, so I’ll apologize and say ‘thank you’—not just for knowing me so well but for having excellent taste and wearing the same dress size I do.”

“And the same shoe size,” Fiona said, holding out a pair of low-heeled sandals to go with the dress.

“Thanks,” Molly said again.

“You can thank me by putting it on—I’m dying to see it on you.”

So Molly stripped out of her robe and slipped into the dress, sighing as the silky fabric floated over her body. “I might not ever give this back.”

Fiona sighed. “I don’t think I’m going to want it back—it looks so much better on you than it ever did on me.”

Molly knew that couldn’t be true—she’d never seen her cousin look anything less than stunning—but she appreciated the compliment.

Fiona settled back on the bed and they chatted casually while Molly finished getting ready. She didn’t know if they would be dining inside or out and she didn’t want her hair tangling around her face if it was windy, so she fashioned a quick French twist and secured it with a handful of pins.

“Does it work?” she asked, turning to her cousin for approval.

“It works,” Fiona agreed. “In fact, it looks fabulous.”

“And you look a little underdressed,” she suddenly realized.

Fiona looked down at the cover-up she wore over her bikini and smiled as she slid off the bed, already making her way toward the door. “Actually, I’m dressed exactly right for a romantic picnic on the beach.”

“We’re having a picnic on the beach?”

Her cousin shook her head. “Scott and I are having a picnic. You’re going out for dinner with Eric.”

“Fiona…”

It was all she managed before her cousin slipped out the door, closing it firmly between them.

Chapter Seven

Molly stared at the back of the door for a long minute, considering her options. She knew she’d been set up and even knowing her cousin had the best of intentions, she didn’t appreciate it. She was tempted to refuse to go out, just to prove that she wouldn’t be manipulated, but that seemed both petty and spiteful and she wasn’t, as a rule, either of those things. At the moment, however, she was apprehensive about spending time with Eric.

Her nervousness escalated when she left her room and found him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

She felt her cheeks flush as his gaze skimmed over her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and everywhere in between. She trailed a hand down the smoothly polished banister, grateful for its solid support as she descended toward him. When she neared the bottom step, he offered her his hand, and she took it.