Chapter Nine
Holding true to most of his promise to Eric, Magnus arranged for their arrival in Vandorra to be unannounced. They’d landed at the private airfield of one of the smaller royal residences an hour away from Finn’s hospital. Both Eric and Rachelle had retired to their rooms shortly after arrival. Rather than confine himself to the home’s office, Magnus took his laptop to a table on a balcony that overlooked the lush gardens and pool.
He was in the middle of answering an e-mail regarding a policy change he’d proposed when he felt Rachelle’s presence. Rather than turn around to immediately confirm her arrival, he took a moment to appreciate how his senses came alive for her. Being that aware of someone else was a novel experience.
She moved closer, and he could no longer fight the need to see her. He stood and turned to face her. She’d changed into simple white cotton shorts and a blue T-shirt. Free of makeup and shoes, with her hair hanging loose down her shoulders, he thought she’d never looked more beautiful. “Are you busy?” she asked, the hesitation in her voice revealing she didn’t know that in that moment he was powerless to deny her anything.
He closed his laptop without taking his eyes off her. “Just finished.”
She smiled. “It’s about tomorrow.”
He motioned toward the steps. “Why don’t we walk as we talk?” Otherwise we may end up making love right on this table. He flipped a switch, and the garden below became illuminated by decorative light posts.
She fell into step beside him. Once on a path in the garden, he offered her his arm. She tucked her hand around it, and the connection felt right. Another woman might have come to him in an outfit designed to turn him on. Or already have started to flirt outrageously with him. Female companionship came easily to a man with a title. Magnus was a healthy male in his prime. He’d accepted more of those appetizing offers than he cared to admit, but he couldn’t remember any holding his attention for long. What was the old saying? Familiarity breeds contempt? For Magnus, it bred boredom.
Rachelle holds my attention with ease. Is it because we haven’t been together yet? His gut told him she wouldn’t be a one-night stand. Once would not be enough to know her the way he wanted to.
“I love this! It’s an edible garden, isn’t it? Funny, it didn’t look it from far away, but these are mostly vegetable plants.”
“My mother called it a kitchen garden, even though she didn’t cook.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve seen beautiful gardens and I’ve seen vegetable gardens, but this mixture of colors and textures with the burst of flowers here and there—it’s dazzling. I can’t wait to see it in the light of day.”
Her comment pleased him. “My mother put a great deal of planning into the design. She studied in France as a child and said it gave her an appreciation for all that is beautiful as well as useful. She often said we cheat ourselves when we choose one over the other.”
“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”
“She was.”
“How did she—I mean, if you don’t mind my asking . . .”
“She was born with a weak heart valve. It never held her back, but it did take her from us too early.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She is never far from my thoughts, therefore never far from me.” It was something Magnus had once heard his father say about his deceased wife. Magnus had never repeated it, but he realized in that moment that it was also how he felt.
“That’s beautiful, and how I feel about my mother’s second husband.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Funny thing about small planes—sound carries better than you’d think.”
She froze beside him. “You heard my conversation with Eric.”
“We all heard it.”
She closed her eyes as if remembering all she’d said. “Oh my God. You should have said something.”
He shrugged. “What you were saying was too important to be interrupted. Except perhaps the last part about how we met. I don’t believe you have my accent down when you do your impression of me.”
She opened her eyes, looking pained. “And all your men were there. I’m so sorry.”
He tipped her chin upward and ran his thumb lightly over her parted lips. “Stop apologizing all the time. It’s not necessary. Do I look upset?”
She shook her head slightly, and desire once again lit her eyes. He much preferred that expression. “But your men—”
“Would not dare to have an opinion regarding a moment from my private life.” He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. “And I must admit, the story becomes more entertaining each time you retell it.” People usually presented themselves in whatever way they thought would be most advantageous to them. Rachelle was refreshingly real.
She smiled then, relaxing against him. “Every time I think I know what to expect from you, you surprise me again.”
“I could easily say the same about you. You are many things, Rachelle, but boring is not one of them.”
She ran her hand over his chest in a light caress. “You might not say that if you knew me. My life back home was a quiet one. I taught six-year-olds all day, hit the gym most evenings, and spent a lot of time with my family. Before this trip, I hadn’t even left the United States.”
“And yet you came alone.”
“Yes.”
He kissed her then but kept it gentle and in control. She was a remarkable woman, and there was no need to rush. When she came to his bed, he wanted it to be completely without fear or regret. She melted against him, and his need for her challenged his decision to go slowly. Reluctantly he broke off the kiss while he still had the strength to.
They stood in each other’s arms, breathing heavily. He remembered how boldly he’d spoken to her the first time he’d met her. It hadn’t seemed to scare her. Despite being alone with him in a secluded garden in his country, she didn’t appear intimidated by him at all. She might not consider herself daring, but she had a natural strength.
A man could make a partner of such a woman.
He frowned at where his thoughts wandered. A night with her—even a prolonged affair—was all he was looking for.
Wasn’t it?
He stepped back and offered her his arm again while chastising himself for bringing her to his mother’s favorite weekend escape rather than a more appropriate and less personal hotel. Rachelle was the first woman he’d brought here, and he didn’t like what that implied.
Rather than taking his arm again, she searched his face. “What’s wrong?” Rachelle Westerly surprised him. There were few in his daily orbit who took the time to read him. Her ability to read his disposition was disconcerting.
“Nothing.”
She hugged her arms to her stomach. “Now that’s an answer I no longer accept. It never mattered how bad things got in my family, they always said things were fine. They weren’t, though. If there’s a problem, just say it. I’d rather dig in and try to fix something than pretend it’s not there.”
Okay. “I like you.”
“That’s the problem?”
His shoulders tensed. He wasn’t one who opened up to people easily. “I enjoy your company more than I thought I would.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is for me. If I have any intention beyond bedding you, I’m doing this wrong. You’re currently a joke in the media. If it gets out that I’ve also made you my lover, it’ll be another hit to your reputation, even though substantial damage has been done already.”
“Wow, okay, remember when I asked for honesty? Feel free to deliver it in a way that’s less of a kick to the groin.”
Her turn of phrase amused, but the situation did not. “I care about your public image.”
“Because?”
He frowned again. I should have just kept kissing her. What am I doing here? “Because I don’t want to see you hurt by your affiliation with me.”
She smiled then. “You’re concerned about me. Despite all that tough talk, you’re a worrier, just like me.”
“We could not be less alike.”
She lowered her lashes, then gazed up at him from beneath them. “You’re a big softie, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. It’s actually really sexy.”
“Really?” That piqued his interest.
“Definitely. I’ll admit that when I first met you, I thought you were attractive. I mean, all the ‘I will have you’ stuff was sexy, but I would never have slept with that man.”
“No?”
“No, all he cared about was himself. Then you told me about Finn, and I saw how hard you fought to help my brother, and I thought, Now there’s a real man.” She went up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his.
Nothing had prepared him for the tailspin Rachelle could send him in with one brief kiss that was both sweet and bold—just like she was. He groaned and gave himself over to the pleasure of her touch, of the way his body burned for hers.
What started gentle became more frenzied as the kiss deepened. She arched against him and moved back and forth against his bulging cock in an intimate, full-body caress. He slid one hand up beneath the back of her shirt, across her bare back, then down to cup her delicious ass. They ground against each other, and Magnus wanted nothing more than to free his cock right there in the garden and bury it deep inside her.
Not since his teenage years had he felt close to coming from foreplay alone. He needed to know that she was just as ready. He kissed his way down her neck and shifted her sideways just enough so he could slide a hand down the front of her shorts. With ease that came from experience, he slid beneath her panties as well and settled his thumb on her clit while his middle finger thrust into her wet sex. She gasped and gripped his shoulders tighter. He withdrew his finger, then thrust it in again, deeper. Withdrew it and went deeper still. “Oh yes,” she whispered. “God, yes.”
He took her mouth with his again, claiming her there as well. She met his passion with a hunger of her own that fanned the wildness in him. When her hands rubbed over his cock, he fought not to explode. He increased the rhythm of his thumb across her clit until she was writhing and moaning against him. She was so wet, so ready for his taking, but he held himself back.
Soon.
This time he wanted her to be the one out of control. He pushed her shirt up and unclipped her bra, freeing those pert breasts for his mouth. When he circled one of her nipples with his tongue, she jutted against his fingers. Some women could orgasm from nipple play alone. He loved the idea that soon he would know all her pleasure points and how to use each to drive her wild.
He used his teeth to gently tug on her nipple while thrusting a second finger into her. She clenched around his fingers and cried out. When she shuddered and sagged in his arms, he withdrew his hand and brought it to his mouth. While she watched, he tasted her juices.
She watched and licked her bottom lip. He held her with one arm while using his other hand to unbutton his trousers. She took his lead and eagerly freed him, wrapping one hand around his cock while cupping his balls with her other hand.
He waited, and groaned with pleasure when she dropped to her knees and took him deeply in her mouth. God, her mouth was perfection. He dug his hands into her hair and watched her lave him with her tongue before taking him deeply again.
He was a man who enjoyed sex, but this was the first time he’d felt consumed by it. The things she did with her fingers and her tongue erased all ability to think from him. He wasn’t used to feeling out of control, but had they stopped then, he surely would have died.
Too soon, an orgasm surged. He warned her gently, and she used her hands to finish him. As he slowly came back to earth, he knew he’d never forget the sight of her still on her knees before him. He shook himself off, adjusted his clothing, then helped her to her feet and pulled her into his arms.
For some time they simply stood there, holding each other. He hadn’t meant to take it as far as it had gone, but it had confirmed what he’d already suspected—the more he had of her, the more he wanted her, and that meant that his plan required some adjusting. “Tomorrow, after we visit the hospital, I’ll check you in to a hotel.”
They weren’t the words any woman would welcome after what they’d shared. Rachelle stiffened in his arms. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure we’ll be flying back to London.”
“Not if Eric checks in to the clinic here.”
Oh, shit. I forgot about that. “Either way, I am perfectly capable of making a reservation on my own.” What kind of sister am I? Where’s my brain? She remembered the intense orgasm that had rocked through her only moments before and shook her head in disgust.
“You’re in my country and therefore you’re my responsibility.”
“I don’t want to be anyone’s responsibility.” She attempted to pull away from him, but his hold on her tightened.
With a hand firmly on each of her hips, he said, “Why fight me, little Rachelle, when we both know you want to be mine?”
Her body clenched and clamored for just that, even as her mind rejected the idea. “What an outdated and sexist thing to say to a woman.”
His hands slid around her waist, cupped her ass, and pulled her flush against him. “Then I definitely shouldn’t say how beautiful you looked with your mouth wrapped around my cock.” She shoved at his chest and would have torn herself away from him if his grip was not so strong. “Save your outrage, for I equally love the idea of burying my face between those thighs of yours. And I will taste you fully—tonight. We will make love until we fall asleep in each other’s arms; then I will wake you with my tongue. Would you like that? Would you like to be fucked so completely that your favorite place will be on your knees for me?”
That’s so wrong.
And so delicious-sounding.
His hand had already brought her more pleasure than half the men she’d had sex with. What would the full package be capable of? Still, his arrogance was over-the-top. She bit her lip as hunger surged within her and tried to remember why not taking things further with him was probably the sanest choice. Controlling men were sexy in movies and books, but Rachelle had come to London to find herself, not hand her independence over to a man. Not even a prince. “And what will your favorite place be?” Above me?
A lusty smile curved his lips. “Wherever brings you the most pleasure.”
Holy shit.
The sound of a male voice broke through the silence of the night. “Excuse me, Your Royal Highness, but Mr. Westerly is looking for his sister.”
Magnus released Rachelle slowly and turned to address a member of his royal guard, who remained out of view. “Tell him we’ll meet him in the drawing room shortly.”
“As you wish.”
Blushing deeply, Rachelle adjusted her clothing and was relieved to discover it was mostly in place. She clipped her bra quickly and smoothed her hair down with shaking hands. She wasn’t ready to face her brother.
Magnus tucked his shirt back into his trousers. “There’s time to freshen up before seeing Eric.”
How does he always seem to know what I’m thinking? “I don’t want to look like I just—I don’t want him to think we—”
Magnus kissed her lips gently. “That is why tomorrow you will be in a hotel.” He groaned. “And why I can wait a little longer to have you. I told myself I would go slowly.”
“The hotel is a good idea.” She could hardly breathe as her body hummed for him again. The heart wants what the heart wants, I guess. Only this isn’t about love—it’s sex, pure and simple. No, not pure or simple. This sex is carnal and complicated. “Slower would be better.” Before I become someone I don’t respect. All of this can wait until I know Eric is safe.
Even as his eyes burned with desire for her, he nodded. “Then come. Let’s go inside.” As they walked together, he asked, “Did you have a question about tomorrow?”
“I did.” Although it felt like a lifetime ago that she’d gone in search of him to ask. “I know there isn’t much time, but the more I thought about our visit to the hospital tomorrow, the more I thought we should bring something with us.”
“No clowns.”
Rachelle laughed at his joke. “That’s a given. No, what I mean is something to hand out to the children—especially if Eric is only willing to meet Finn. There will be a lot of disappointed children, and a stuffed Water Bear Man might appease them somewhat. Also, has anyone thought about his costume? Will he be wearing it during the visit? If you want him to, you may need to have someone fly it over. Since he’s not actually a superhero, I doubt he travels with it.”
“I did have the costume sent with some of his things, but I like the idea of having something for each of the children. They weren’t exactly happy with my first visit.”
Surprised, she stopped. She’d seen the public’s reaction. It was difficult to imagine that children in his own country wouldn’t also hero-worship him. “Tell me.”
He stopped and pocketed his hands. The tension in his features made him look much harsher than she’d come to view him. “I didn’t know some of them were afraid of clowns. They started screaming and making a production like a bunch of—”
“Children.”
A corner of his mouth curved upward. “I settled them down, but it wasn’t pleasant.”
Oh no. He wouldn’t have . . . he didn’t . . . “You didn’t yell at them, did you?”
“It was the only way to be heard.”
“At a hospital for sick children?” He looked uncomfortable enough with the topic that she almost felt bad for chastising him. Almost.
He rocked back onto his heels. “My father usually handles such things, but he hasn’t been feeling well.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry. Is it serious?”
“The doctor says everything at his age is serious. Lately, though, he tires easily, and it is more difficult to get him out of bed each day.”
“Will he be there tomorrow?”
“There are too many unpredictable elements for me to want him there. If it goes well, he’ll be pleased to hear about it. If it is a repeat of my first visit, I’ll break it to him on a day when he looks able to handle the news.”
There was a vulnerability about Magnus that was unexpected when glimpsed. Rachelle took his hand in hers. “Tomorrow will go well. I’m good with children. Just follow my lead.”
He looked down at her hand around his and linked his fingers with hers. “So, you have a way with little brats?”
Although he was joking, she corrected him. “I doubt there is a brat in that place—just a lot of scared children who probably love you already and would show you if you let them see the softer side of you.”
“I don’t have a softer side.”
Rather than take him at his word, she reviewed the many things he’d said to her, then snapped her fingers when the answer came to her. “Yes, you do. You have your mother in you, and she’s always with you. I bet when your father isn’t sure how to act, he thinks of her. Tomorrow, try it and see if it changes how you see those children.”
His hand tightened on hers. “I’m glad I was wrong about you being a prostitute.”
Rachelle burst out laughing at that, and he joined in. “What am I going to do with you?”
He leaned down beside her ear and whispered a few suggestions that left her breathless and blushing. He gave her one last lingering kiss, then guided her to a washroom. “The drawing room is down that hall and to the left. I’ll make a call about the stuffed water bears and meet you there,” he said huskily before turning and leaving her.
A few minutes later, Rachelle stood before a fireplace in a turquoise-and-gold room and studied the painting of a king seated next to a queen with a young child between them. If not for the formality of their gold-embroidered attire, they might have been any family. The child, no older than three, faced forward as if taking on the world already. The king’s attention, in contrast, was on the beautiful woman at his side, who was looking down at her child, but with a smile on her face as if she’d just shared a private joke with her husband. It was a loving family, and it made Rachelle wonder what had hurt the young boy in the painting enough that he’d hardened his heart. The loss of his mother? She wished she knew, because when she looked at the painting, she saw the Magnus she was truly drawn to. Not for a night, but on a deeper level that was as unsettling as it was exciting.
“Sorry,” Eric said as he entered the room. “I had to take a call from my publicist. He didn’t believe me at first, and then I regretted telling him. I threatened to fire him if he tells the press about tomorrow. Convincing him I meant it was what took so long.”
Rachelle turned to face her brother. “You really don’t do any appearances?”
“I really don’t.”
“You may find you like them.”
“Pardon the interruption,” a male member of the house staff said from the doorway. “Prince Magnus sends his apologies, but something urgent has come up. He will meet you for breakfast at eight. He requests you both be ready to leave for the hospital directly afterward.”
Once they were alone again, Eric said, “I was looking for you earlier. Phillip said you were out for a walk with Mr. Call Me Your Highness. I don’t know what I think of that guy.”
“He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”
Eric’s eyes flew to hers. “How well do you know him?”
Rachelle’s cheeks warmed, but she held his gaze. “I met him at your premiere, just like I told you.”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
Really? Because I’m quickly becoming addicted to how I feel every time he does. “Are you applying for the role of overprotective brother?”
Eric went to stand beside her and looked up at the portrait above the fireplace. “He’s hiding something. I don’t know what. I’ll feel better after tomorrow when we meet this kid he keeps talking about. If he even exists.”
“Of course he does. Why would Magnus make something like that up?”
“It got me here. And you. People have done sicker things for less.”
Who has Eric been spending time with? “Well, we’ll know tomorrow, I guess.”
Eric ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“You have to. You promised.”
“As if that means anything.”
Rachelle shook her head. “It does to me. And if it doesn’t to you, then you need to take a good, long look in the mirror. People can do whatever they want to us, but they only change us if we let them. Maybe you’ve known some horrible people, but you’re choosing to become like them.”
“You don’t know what I’ve seen.”
True. I don’t. And I can’t admit to what I know. “Okay, then, tell me, are you a good actor?”
“As a water bear?”
“No, I don’t mean in the movies you make, I mean in your heart. Mom says you wanted to be taken seriously as an actor when you first started out.”
“I did.”
“So, you’re talented?”
“I used to think so.”
“When you were your best onstage, what was it like?”
Eric sighed and walked away to look out the window as if he needed to spend a moment back in that time before he could describe it. “Like nothing else. I’d spend weeks, sometimes months, studying a character. Then practice my lines until I could say them in my sleep. When I took the stage on opening night, it was magic. For a short time, I wasn’t me. I was Hamlet, Prospero, Valjean. So I suppose you could say that me at my best is someone else.”
I hope one day you realize how untrue that is, but for now, maybe believing that can help you. “Then tomorrow, imagine the hospital is a stage, and become a character who brings joy to those children. I’ll let you in on the secret to getting children to like you—simply like them. That’s it. It’s easy. You can fool them about a lot of things, but they know who doesn’t like them. It’s like a self-preservation sixth sense.”
“That might work. Thanks.” He looked toward the door of the drawing room. “It’ll be interesting to see what the kids think of your prince.”
“I’m sure they love him,” she said in a positive tone, even though she had no idea how they saw him. She hoped his first visit hadn’t been quite as bad as he’d described it, but so far Magnus had been brutally honest about everything else. She believed that he’d brought a clown and raised his voice in frustration, yet somehow that had led him to promising one of them that he’d deliver the impossible.
Magnus had gone to a lot of trouble to fulfill one child’s wish.
That didn’t sound like a man who hated children.
But how well do I really know him? Her instincts told her he had a good heart, but she’d let the children’s reactions to him prove her right or wrong.
Yes, tomorrow will be interesting.