The Royal House of Niroli: Secret Heirs: Bride by Royal Appointment / A Royal Bride at the Sheikh's Command

“I can see you’ve been sketching.”

She went very still. What on earth was the man talking about? “Have I?” she said carefully.

“Yes. Here’s your sketchbook. It fell out of your bag.”

My sketchbook? What sketchbook?

Then her mind cleared. Ah, Gino. Her very gay, very artistic friend who often came along when she climbed out here in the ruins. He’d come along today, but had gone back to the house to make a phone call. The sketchbook had to be his.

“Mind if I look at these?” the man was asking.

“Oh, why not?” She laughed softly, wondering what else Gino had left in her bag.

She heard pages rustling, but there was dead silence from her companion.

“Wow,” he said at last, his voice somewhat strangled. “Michelangelo’s got nothing on you.”

She frowned, wondering what on earth that meant. “It’s nice to have one’s work appreciated,” she said ambiguously.

“You do have a way with …” he cleared his throat “ … uh, the nude male form.”

She choked back a laugh. Oh, Gino, what have you been up to? From the nuances she sensed in this man’s voice, whatever he’d found on the pages was pretty darn provocative. She could just imagine—Gino unleashed!

Good heavens. And just how did he suppose that a blind woman managed that sort of thing? But he still didn’t realize she was blind. People often didn’t catch on at first. She’d trained herself to move and express herself just as a sighted person would. Fate had played a very large, serious joke on her and she enjoyed playing her little joke on the world in return. Still, most people got clued in relatively quickly. Usually seeing her with Fabio and putting two and two together was what did it. But then, he hadn’t really seen her with her dog, had he? He’d seen his son with Fabio, not her, and the connection hadn’t been made. Interesting.

“So you like the style?” she asked, having a hard time holding back a chuckle. “Tell me. Which is your favorite?”

He choked for just a moment, and his voice was a bit ragged when he responded. “Why don’t you tell me which is yours?”

“Hmm.” She put her head to the side. “I think I love them all.”

“Right.” He drew in a sharp breath and didn’t seem to have a good response to that one.

He didn’t know what to make of her. It was obvious. Finding nude sketches in her bag presented a whole new side of her from his point of view. He was probably trying to decide whether to take it as an earthy invitation to intimacy—or to run for cover. The laughter bubble was coming up her throat and she didn’t know how long she would be able to hold it back.

“So. Do you hire models for this kind of thing?” he asked carefully.

She shook her head. She knew it was time to stop this. She could hear the intensity building in his voice. The thought of her sketching these nude male images was turning him on in a big way. And an aroused, aggressive man whom she didn’t really know was something she didn’t want to deal with. But she couldn’t resist one last needling.

“Why? Are you offering your services?” She raised an eyebrow and waited to see what he would say.

“That would depend on the compensation,” he said, moving closer, his voice deepening.

She moved a little away, but still asked, “What would you consider a fair price?”

He paused, and for some reason her pulse began to quicken.

“I always say the kindness of a beautiful woman is worth more than gold.”

His voice was low and seductive now and he was moving even closer to her. If his son hadn’t been romping nearby, she was sure he would have made some sort of move by now. Surprisingly, she felt a quick shiver of apprehension. The joke was played out. She had let this go on too long as it was. Once again, as her friends always warned her, she was playing with fire and she was going to get burned if she didn’t put out the flames right away.

CHAPTER TWO

“I’VE never been one to trust much in “the kindness of strangers”,” Elena said quickly, lifting her chin and making sure any hint of teasing was erased from her tone. Instead, she was back to being brisk and dismissive. “And I’m not hiring right now. In fact, if you don’t mind …”

Her words stopped in her throat. He’d leaned very close to her, so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.

“But I do mind, beautiful lady,” he said, his voice very quiet, but hard as steel. “And I don’t like being played with.”

He didn’t touch her, but she felt as though he had. Suddenly she was breathless and her heart was hammering in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement. Either way, it was something she wasn’t used to. And she wanted it to stop. Had she gone too far this time? Had she walked too close to the edge?

But in the next second, all was confusion as a crowd of tourists appeared on the ruin above the terrace, and Fabio was back, panting happily and pushing his head against her knee, and she sensed the man drawing away. And then he was calling his son and she heard the crunch of crumbled stone in his departure.

On pure reflex, her hand rose and covered the area of her face where his warm breath had seared it. His voice and the sense of his presence had disturbed something in her in a way she’d never felt before. She shivered and hoped fervently she would never come across the man again.

“Hey, are you all right?”

Gino was back. She sighed and smiled at him in relief.

“I’m fine,” she lied, then shivered one last time. “But I think one of my ancestors just walked across my grave.”

“Elena Valerio, you are in big trouble.”

She moaned softly and made a face as she settled back into her chair at the trendy sidewalk café she frequented every morning. She was talking to herself in public again. She had to nip this new bad habit in the bud. People would think she was going mad. Even Fabio had lifted his head questioningly. She could sense it.

“You know you’re in trouble when even your dog turns on you,” she murmured, scratching him behind the ears.

And so she was, though it had nothing to do with Fabio at all. Her trouble was all about a restlessness that had come over her since meeting the child Jeremy and his disturbing father the day before. She felt as though she’d been sleepwalking, living life in a daze, and now, suddenly, the man she’d met had shaken her awake. Awakening was painful. She had to face the fact that she’d been letting herself drift. If she didn’t pull herself together and begin to take charge of her life, she was going to hit the rocks.

Elena had lived in Niroli all her life, and that life had been pleasant and peaceful despite her disability. She’d been raised by her grandmother in a small cottage here in the sleepy town of Monte Speziare, where the old ways were treasured and the new tourist hotels and other developments to the south were looked upon with horror. Her grandmother had recently died, leaving nothing but the little cottage they lived in, and Elena was supporting herself by giving piano lessons and hoping to scrape together enough money to attend a special music therapy training program in New York.

At least, that was what she told herself. And yet, she’d just found out that morning that one of her best students was leaving for Italy. That left her with hardly enough daily fees coming in to feed herself, much less prepare for any sort of future. It was definitely time to start getting serious about things. She needed new revenue.

And she needed to stop thinking about men. Well, not men, actually. One man. One man who had shaken up her emotions at the same time he’d shaken her assumptions. It was strange the way he’d tangled himself into her thoughts. She didn’t like him and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Suddenly, she felt prickles on the back of her neck. “Oh, no,” she whispered. She didn’t need to see him. She could feel him. He was coming toward her and there was nothing she could do to avoid him.

Well, at least this was a completely public place. Maybe things would go better here. He couldn’t try to intimidate her.

Better yet, maybe they would pass without seeing her. She tried to make herself small in her chair, turned her face toward the stucco wall of the café, held her breath.

And then she heard a familiar voice.

“Hey! Look! It’s Fabio. Come on!”

“Jeremy!”

She slumped in her chair. It would seem that things were just going to get more and more complicated. There was no way out.

Adam saw her at the same time Jeremy did, and he tried, too late, to steer his son toward the other side of the road. Jeremy ran straight for the little street-side café where she was sipping a drink and he followed, reluctantly. The last thing in the world he needed was another run-in with the aggravating lady in the Gucci shades.

He had enough on his mind. He’d barely been in Niroli twenty-four hours and already he was itching to leave. Jeremy was driving him crazy and his first meeting with the counselors at the palace had been less than reassuring. He’d expected to show up, meet his grandfather, King Giorgio, maybe have a lot of people make a big fuss over how glad they were to see him, and then come away with a contract to look over, options to weigh. That was the way things were done in the real world, weren’t they? It should have been cut and dried.

Instead, he’d been received as though no one was quite sure who he was or why he was there wasting their time. He’d been shuffled from one room to another until he’d finally ended up talking to a dour man named Tours who had claimed they’d thought he wasn’t coming until the next week. The truth had finally come out—the royal counselors in charge of this thing were off on holiday and now they expected him to cool his heels until they came back.

He didn’t have time for that. His company was undergoing a hostile takeover back in California. He needed resolution and he needed money and he needed both fast. Strong words had ensued. Thinking back, he realized that hadn’t helped matters. He was going to have to work on controlling his temper. They didn’t seem to know how to react to it.

Tours had then insisted he transfer from his hotel to rooms in the palace, all the better, no doubt, to keep tabs on him. Adam had insisted he would do no such thing. If he had to wait around for a week, at least he was going to do it on his own terms.

And when he had asked to see his grandfather, Tours had acted as though he had to prove himself worthy first. But why should that surprise him? Had he really imagined they were going to welcome him with open arms, his illegitimacy forgiven? More fool he. It was more than evident that the situation of his birth was a big issue, and that there were factions who were opposed to him being offered the job in the first place. This had certainly turned out to be more complicated than he had been led to believe.

What was the big deal, anyway? All they wanted was to hire a king for their little island country. He’d put together multimillion-dollar international projects with fewer hassles than this looked as if it was going to take.

In the meantime, he couldn’t get hold of anyone back in Hollywood and he needed to make sure some dotting of i’s and crossing of t’s was going on in his absence. He was also going to have to warn Zeb Vargas, his number two at Ryder Productions, that this was going to take more time than he’d thought it would. Deals were hanging in the balance. Banks were waiting for authorizations. Writers and actors he wanted under contract were being enticed away by other producers with more ready cash. Profits were melting away in the sun. He needed to get things settled.

And so he approached the beautiful lady without a smile, nodding shortly and grunting a greeting, while Jeremy wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck and murmured unintelligible love to the animal, who accepted it all with happy panting.

“Hello,” she said, turning slightly toward him and then away again. “What a surprise. I didn’t think we’d ever meet up again.” She frowned slightly. “This is a bit off the beaten tourist path. Are you staying nearby?”

That was another problem. The press had already sniffed out his hotel accommodations and for that reason—and other, having to do with Jeremy—he was in the market for a new place to stay. Nothing seemed as simple as it should be in this little country.

“Not for long,” he said gruffly, wondering why she didn’t look at him. Memories of their last meeting came back to him and he felt a vague sense of irritation. She could at least pretend not to hate him.

“Can I take Fabio for a walk?” Jeremy interrupted eagerly.

Elena hesitated, obviously reluctant to extend the meeting. Adam picked up on that and shared her impulse.

“Uh, I think we have to get going,” he began, but his son’s intensity drowned out his words.

“Oh, please, please!” Jeremy cried, with Fabio happily licking his face. “He’s my best friend now.”

Adam looked at his son in astonishment. He’d never heard that childlike pleading tone from him before. Usually it was all demands and whining. There seemed to be something special in Jeremy’s relationship to this pair. Odd.

“Well, just for a moment,” Elena was saying, and he knew it was reluctantly. “I’ll tell you what you can do. Do you see a butcher’s shop down the street a bit?”

“Yes. The one with the hanging sign?”

“That’s the one. If you take Fabio to the back door of that shop, I think the butcher will give him a bone. He often does. Just knock on the door.”

“Great,” Jeremy said, jumping up and brimming with joy.

“Wait a minute,” she added. “He has his harness on today. You must hold it from the top, like this.” She demonstrated and Jeremy took over, racing off with his new best friend.

Adam watched them go, dodging the few people who strolled up and down the charming street, window-shopping in the tiny shops along the way. He was still impressed by how different Jeremy could be when he wanted to.

“That’s quite a rig you have on the dog,” he noted in passing. “It looks almost like …”

He stopped dead, looking at her quickly. Almost like the kind the blind use, he’d been about to say. And suddenly it hit him. The moment he realized the truth, he felt as though he’d been smacked in the solar plexus with a football.

“Yes, he is a guide dog,” she said calmly. “And, yes, I am. Blind, that is.”

He was still too stunned to speak, not to mention the accompanying humiliation of being such a fool as not to have noticed before.

“Oh, pick your jaw up off the ground,” she said briskly.

“I … I’m so sorry, I …”

“No need to be sorry. It’s been quite amusing. I threw all kinds of hints out there that you didn’t pick up on.” She smiled serenely. “I think you hold the record. You’re the most clueless man I’ve ever met.”

“I. listen, I just didn’t …”

“It’s been almost a good twenty-four hours, hasn’t it? I once went three hours straight with an elderly man with a hearing problem who didn’t realize I was blind, but he was talking at the top of his lungs the whole time. And at ninety-four you expect a little density. But you!” She grinned, happy to have found a vulnerability in him. “You take the prize.”

He knew he was flushing. Luckily, she couldn’t see that, could she? Now if he could just get a steady tone back in his voice, he might be able to get back in control of this situation. He sank into a chair across from where she was sitting and looked at her, hard.

She was blind. For some reason that tore at him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. What a tragedy. She was so beautiful. His compassion for her hardship actually overwhelmed his resentment for having been fooled— and that wasn’t like him.

A waiter appeared, offered coffee drinks, and retreated again, and Adam nodded his response, but his mind was completely engaged in this lovely woman’s situation.

“My son says your name is Elena,” he managed to say at last, leaning forward and talking very slowly.

“Yes. Elena Valerio.”

“I am Adam Ryder,” he went on gingerly. “And I guess you’ve picked up that my son is Jeremy.”

She groaned, letting her head fall back. “Mr Ryder, I’m blind, not deaf, not hard of hearing, or even somewhat slow. You don’t have to speak carefully to me. Please. Just use your normal voice.”

He flushed again, annoyed at … what? Being caught out trying to be compassionate? That was the problem. It didn’t come naturally to him. No wonder she’d nailed him on it.

“Okay, Elena Valerio,” he said, speaking in a quick staccato. “I’m Adam. And if you skip the jokes about the Garden of Eden, I’ll lay off treating you like you’re in need of a keeper.”

Smiling, she stuck out a slender hand. “You’ve got a deal. It’s nice to meet you, Adam Ryder.”

He took her hand in his and held it a moment too long, studying it, admiring the long, slender fingers, the pink nails, the smooth skin.

“It’s nice of you to say so, Elena Valerio,” he responded as she pulled her hand away again. “I hope nothing happens to make you change your mind.”

She looked startled. “What could happen? Why are you talking in riddles?”

He smiled, glad to be back in control. “Tired of games? You seemed all for them yesterday.”

It was her turn to flush. “Sorry about that,” she said breezily. “But you’ve got to admit, you asked for it.”

He wasn’t prepared to admit anything of the kind, but he didn’t say so. He was still trying to adjust to the fact of her blindness. There were so many angles to it, aspects he’d never considered before. He pushed away the pity factor immediately. His intuition told him she would scorn any sort of sympathy for her condition. And that left him to wonder at her elegance and how gracefully she seemed to deal with the situation. He couldn’t imagine coming to terms with such a thing himself. Anger and bitterness would probably rule his life.

As if they didn’t already, he thought wryly, though he knew he was overstating a bit. Still, no one would call him a happy man these days. A cynical man, yes. A hard man. Life tended to make you that way.

He’d been taken aback recently when he’d overheard a young female employee at his film production company say, “Mr Ryder is so hot. How come he never smiles?”

Smile, he’d thought at the time. What the hell was there to smile about, anyway? Who had time? Smiling was for losers.

And yet he’d made it a point to stop by the men’s room and look into a mirror. She was right. Smiling didn’t seem to come naturally anymore. He finally forced the corners of his mouth up into the proper shape but his silver-blue eyes didn’t join in. They were still as cold as an Arctic winter.

He hadn’t been born angry. In fact, despite having a mother who spent her days dashing about the world with the jet set, his childhood had been relatively calm. But it seemed as if he was angry all the time lately. Maybe that was why Jeremy was so impossible to handle. The sins of the father and all that.

He looked at Elena and wondered if she had a lover.

“I guess you didn’t make those sketches, did you?” he said sadly.

Her laugh sounded like chimes. “No, I did not.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“Such a pity.” She pretended sympathy. “You thought you’d found a woman with a lot of naked male anatomy on her mind.”

She had him there. The idea had been appealing. “I thought I’d found a very interesting woman, that’s for sure.”

“So women aren’t interesting if there is no sex involved?”

There was a pause, and then he said softly, just because he couldn’t resist, “Who says there’s no sex involved?”

“I …”

That stopped her for the moment. She actually blushed. He grinned. The waiter brought a tall coffee drink he didn’t recognize as anything he would have ever ordered, but he accepted it, then waited for the man to leave before he leaned forward and asked, “So if you didn’t draw them, who did?”

“My friend Gino did. He came out on the ruins with me, but he went back before you arrived to make a phone call and left his sketchbook in my bag.”

That made him raise his eyebrows. “So he’s the one interested in male nudes.”

She smiled. “You might say that. He’s a very good artist, isn’t he?”

“I suppose. Though I’d be a better judge of that if the nudes were female.”

Her smile faded. She didn’t need any reminders that he was aggressively heterosexual. His vibes were coming through loud and clear—and making her nervous. She had no intention of getting chummy. As soon as Fabio and the boy came back, she would find an excuse to leave. In the meantime, she didn’t mind sparring with him a bit, as long as he didn’t take it as an invitation toward anything friendlier.

He moved and she tensed, not sure what he was going to do, then felt a bit foolish when it was obvious he was just using his cell phone. She reached for her drink, as if that had been her objective all along, but she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Damn,” he said after a moment. “Why don’t cell phones work around here? I can’t get through to anyone on this phone.”

“Is it set up for international?” she asked.

“I bought it deliberately for just that reason,” he said. “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a magic button or something.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to offer him the use of her landline. Her cottage was just around the corner. But she stopped herself just in time. She really didn’t want this man in her little house. Better not to suggest it. There ought to be a line he could use at whatever hotel he was checked into.

“Where are you staying?” she asked, since the subject had come up, at least in her mind.

“Why do you want to know?” he shot back without missing a beat.

“Oh!” This was surely the most defensive and distrustful man she’d ever met. She made a quick sound of exasperation. “What do you mean, why do I want to know? That is so rude!”

“Sorry,” he said gruffly. “But, believe me, I have reason to not want people to know where I’m staying.” He hesitated. “We started out at the Ritz but I’m afraid we’ve got to move to another place. They’ve likely put our possessions in the street by now.”

She shook her head, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about? What happened?”

He sighed heavily. “My adorable son Jeremy happened. As usual.”

She frowned. The man was impossible. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about him that way.”

“I wish I didn’t have to.” He saw the look on her face and backed down a bit. “Okay, I’ll try to hold back on the sarcasm. But, believe me, you’ll be saying mean things about him too when you hear what he did.”

She made a disbelieving face. “Tell me.”

He took a sip of his unfamiliar coffee drink and had to admit it was pretty good. Settling back, he began his story.

“Here’s how it all went down. I was up half the night trying to make business calls to the States, so Jeremy woke up before I did this morning and headed out to see whose life he could ruin.”

“Adam!”

He grinned, then, realizing she couldn’t see a grin, shrugged and went on. “When I woke up and saw he was gone, I knew right away we were in trouble. I searched all over for him, looking for evidence of recent disasters. It took awhile, but I finally went to the hotel kitchen. And there he was.”

“And? What did he do there—sneak a cookie?”

“Oh, no.” He issued a short laugh. “Jeremy never does small things like that. I’ll tell you what he did.” He grimaced, remembering the sight he was about to recount to her. “You see, the kitchen staff were preparing for a wedding, and in a sweetly fashioned little portico they had placed a beautifully decorated wedding cake, all ready to go. It was about five layers tall. And I’m sure it was a work of art … before Jeremy got to it and licked off most of the frosting.”

She gasped. “Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes.” He groaned, stretching out in his chair and shaking his head as he remembered the horrible scene. “The funny thing was, he liked the yellow roses and gobbled them right down, but the red roses didn’t taste right to him, so as he pulled them off he merely squished them on the table. They looked like sad little soldiers lying there, abused and unwanted. It was heartbreaking. Really.”