CHAPTER SEVEN
Another gust of wind picked up sand and flung it at them. Sandro noticed dark clouds gathering inland, behind the dunes. He wanted to kiss her again, but common sense prevailed. “I think we should head back.”
“Of course.” Serena leaped to her feet and brushed sand off her gorgeous behind. Clipped and brusque in her movements, she probably took his suggestion as a rejection.
Once they got back to the house, he intended to let her know it was anything but.
“Is that a dog?” She turned to face the dunes, where the gusts now flattened the gray-green dune grass.
“I think it’s the wind.”
“I thought I heard barking.” She started to walk back.
“Maybe you’re right.” He lingered behind, unable to resist a glimpse of the view. “And I think you’re onto something,” he said, resisting the urge to brush a last sprinkle of sand from her pants.
“What do you mean?”
“Coming here by yourself. Taking a break from reality.”
“If only I could take a break. My readers expect new content every other day. Something uplifting and entertaining, preferably with an artistically styled yet candid-looking photo.”
He chuckled. She wasn’t laughing. “You put a lot of pressure on yourself.”
She looked right at him. “I invited it willingly. I worked hard to build my audience and encourage their participation. I guess I thought I’d be going from strength to strength, leading and guiding. It never occurred to me that I’d want to go hide under a rock.”
The sadness in her eyes tugged at his heart. They walked along the beach, swift gusts now whipping at their clothes and a sting of cool rain on the back of their necks. “Your pain will give you perspective in time.”
“I suppose so.”
“It’ll make you more compassionate, more understanding when things go wrong for other people.”
She glanced up at him. “Do things ever go wrong for you, or do you just jet around jumping off mountains, wearing a coronet?”
He drew in a breath. “That assumption is my biggest hurdle in life. People assume I live to entertain myself and never experience defeat or disappointment or yearning.”
“Are they right?” She lifted a slim brow.
He squinted against a gust of sand-laden wind. “I’m smart. I work hard. I do my best to think of others and put their needs first. If no one’s interested in listening to my first-world problem, I suck it up and move on.”
“I guess a prince would have only first-world problems.” She laughed, shielding her eyes from the sand. “I suppose mine are, too. I bet you’ve never had a broken heart, though.”
“Don’t be so sure.” The rain picked up, big droplets now hitting them hard. “Let’s run.”
Back at the house, Serena toweled off her face and hair, surprised at how quickly the weather had turned. “I guess this is the edge of the tropical storm. Are we supposed to put storm shutters up or something?”
“I don’t know. Let me call Zadir.” A minute later Sandro frowned and looked up from his phone. “I can’t get a signal.”
“I haven’t been able to get one since I arrived.” She tried again, to no avail. “The coverage is horrible out here and now the Wi-Fi is gone, too. I think the dish isn’t working because of the weather. I’ve been grateful for the solitude so far, but now it’s making me nervous. We’re so close to the beach. Should we be worried about a storm surge? It’s been raining off and on since I got here.”
“Possibly.” Sandro looked grim. “At least this house has upper floors.”
“As long as the whole thing doesn’t get washed away.” Her stomach clenched at the thought. Which at least gave her some distraction from the much more disturbing feelings happening just below it—especially when she had the misfortune to look at Sandro.
How had she let him kiss her? He’d obviously had second thoughts about it pretty fast, getting them up and headed back to the house, but the effect on her had been hot and heavy and intense and almost frightening.
Overwhelming.
No doubt it was all on her side, like her feelings for Howard and her foolish assumption—encouraged by the simple but elegant engagement ring he’d given her—that they’d live happily ever after.
Boy, was she wrong.
Sandro had moved on and was preheating the oven and rubbing the chicken with butter. The wind had picked up and was whistling through the trees outside, while rain pelted against the large windows.
She tried to distract herself with peeling the potatoes, which he intended to toss with herbs and roast. “I don’t believe you’ve ever had a broken heart.”
“Maybe not broken.” He looked up, dark eyes warm. “Perhaps just badly bruised. It was a situation where she meant a lot more to me than I did to her.”
“Sounds familiar.” Suddenly she felt a little better. “She was your girlfriend?”
“I thought so. I was young, maybe eighteen, and she was a sophisticated older woman of twenty-five or so.”
“A cougar.” She smiled, cutting the eyes out of a potato. “I can see you falling for a cougar.”
“She taught me a lot.” His slightly lifted brow suggested that much of what she’d taught him happened between the sheets. “Which any eighteen-year-old would be grateful for. But I fell hard. She seemed so wise and interesting. She’d traveled a lot by herself, backpacking around Asia and Africa, meeting all kinds of people, and she had such great stories. I envied her freedom and anonymity. Everywhere I go there are paparazzi waiting to catch me doing something stupid.”
“First-world problems,” she teased.
“Indeed.” A slow smile crossed his broad mouth. “But it became more of a problem when she wouldn’t be seen in public with me. She didn’t want anyone to know about our affair. She was embarrassed to be involved with a royal.”
“That’s different. I’d think you’d have more trouble with people wanting to date you because you are royal.”
“True. She was repulsed by all the wealth and privilege and entitlement. All the stuff that gets other women excited was a turnoff to her.”
“I’ll give her credit for being original.”
“Yup. And it made me adore her more. I wanted to spend my life with this woman, sharing adventures at her side, but she only wanted me under the cover of darkness. Eventually she got annoyed with me pushing for more and called me a spoiled princeling. She left for a trip to the Caucuses region and I never saw her again.”
“She died?”
“No, she married someone else. A much older man, from Georgia.” Noting her amusement, he added. “The Georgia where people speak Russian.”
“Oh. But you recovered.”
“Did I?” He looked wistful, his fingers plunged underneath the skin of the chicken. “I suppose I did, but I’ve never felt the same way about anyone else.”
“I’m sure you will one day.” Clearly the kiss he’d given her hadn’t distracted him from his long-lost love too much. Still, she was the one who’d asked him about his ex. “I appreciate your sharing. It makes me feel better.”
“You’re better off without him. He wasn’t right for you.” Sandro basted the outside of the skin and tucked herb leaves into it.
“So I guess the woman who bruised your heart wasn’t right for you.”
“Clearly not. And there can’t be much worse than being stuck with the wrong person. I think we should break open your champagne and celebrate our freedom.”
Her face heated at the realization that he’d found her bottle of champagne in the fridge. What kind of loser brings champagne to a weekend alone? “Why not?”
He washed his hands, put the chicken in the oven, then uncorked the champagne and poured it into two flutes that they found in a kitchen cabinet.
He handed one to her. “Here’s to love.”
Serena blinked. He doesn’t mean between the two of you, dummy. “Of course, to love.” Her voice sounded a little more nervous and forced than she’d hoped. She sipped quickly to cover her embarrassment, and bubbles went up her nose and made her sneeze.
Lucky thing her skin was dark enough to hide the flush rising up her neck. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? He probably kissed every woman he met. He’d probably forgotten all about that kiss, while the memory of it was growing and blooming in her mind, occupying her thoughts and stimulating her senses.
This was going to be a very long holiday.
She attempted another sip and managed not to splutter it out. Her ears pricked up. “There it is again, I swear I hear a dog.”
“I think there’s another house in that thicket of trees next door. I saw a roof when we were out on the dunes.
“But is the dog outside in this weather ? That seems dangerous.” The wind whistled audibly in the trees, which creaked and groaned under strong gusts. Her fears compounded when suddenly a huge crash sounded from the living room and the lights went out.