His Royal Pleasure (8 page)

Regret.
What a horrible word to use to describe such a beautiful evening. He couldn't have meant it. She took a deep breath. “You regret last night.”

“I didn't mean it that way,” he said quickly in a harsh voice. “This morning I realized we weren't discreet. Anyone could have seen us.”

Relief trickled through her, and she smiled tentatively. He'd been worried about privacy. “But no one did, AI.” She reached out a hand to reassure him.

He backed away.

The bottom seemed to fall out of her stomach, and she dropped her hand to her side. She felt she was in the middle of her worst nightmare. “You don't want me to touch you,” she whispered.

“It's not that,” he said. Chad's cheery whistle carried from the kitchen. Al looked at Katherine's face and knew he would have to tell her who he was. But now was not the time. “We'll talk later.”

End of discussion. She'd heard the tone before. Temper warred with pain. “Don't count on it.”

He swore under his breath. “You'll get all your answers later. Now is not the time.” Then he walked away.

Katherine stared after him for a full moment. A full moment praying he'd turn around, tell her he'd been wrong and that he'd dreamed of her.

He didn't, and the feeling of loss crushed her. She clasped her trembling hands together.

She felt like a fool. The pain was so bad, her chest hurt with it. Her face ached. Her eyes throbbed. She felt like throwing up.

She was hurt, and she hated herself for it. She'd been ready to make Al's breakfast and coo over him like a lovesick idiot. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. Thank goodness she hadn't gotten that far.

The shame was too much. It cut too close to older wounds.

She slammed the screen door and stomped into the kitchen. She crammed a slice of bread into the toaster.

“Hey, Katie,” Chad said, “give the toaster a break. It's pretty old. And you know,” he chided, his mouth full of sugar-coated cereal, “Napoleon made coffee again. You're supposed to stay on top of that. Next time he might ruin the coffeemaker.”

“If you want coffee, then make it yourself.”

Chad's eyes widened. “Well, excuuuuse me. What burr have you got in your craw?”

“Maybe I'm just not feeling very cheerful this morning, Chad. Maybe it would be best if you didn't talk to me.”

“Well, you better find your charm. Some guy named Jeff Windsor called and said he wanted to tour the campground today.” He took a gulp of milk and stared at her. “You wanna tell me what's going on?”

“Not really.”

“Are you trying to find a buyer for Uncle Jasper?”

She couldn't evade his direct question. “Yes, but the final decision will be his. I'm just trying to make it easier.”

Chad stopped eating and looked at her. “He may not thank you, Katie.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “I know, but I've got to try.” Lord, what a day. First Al, now this. “You won't tell Jasper, will you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. He doesn't call that much anyway.” He stirred his cereal. “I'm gonna miss it if I have to leave, though.”

Her heart twisted. She understood why he wanted some stability in his life. He'd had so little. “Maybe we can work it out for you to stay on.”

Chad shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. You gonna tell me what's going on between you and Napoleon?”

This one was easy. Determination surged through her. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

 

Katherine slapped on some emotional Band-Aids, dusted off her pride and met Jeff Windsor. She'd prepared herself for another crusty whiner like Mr. Logan. Jeff Windsor, however, was a surprise. For one thing he was younger and more attractive than her other prospect.

“The campground isn't in perfect condition,” she warned him honestly.

Jeff smiled. “Nothing's perfect.” He gave her an appreciative glance and an exaggerated wink. “With all due respect, though, you come pretty close.”

It was such an audacious comment that she laughed. She spent the day with him and lapped up his harmless, uninhibited flirting as if it were whipped cream on top of a sundae.

Jeff's sense of humor and easy smile were a balm to her injured soul. A few times throughout the day she felt Al's dark gaze on her. Thoughts of him distracted her, tugged at her, but she threw them off.

“I've monopolized every minute of your day,” Jeff said, looking at his watch. “But I'd appreciate your sharing dinner with me if you think you can bear my presence a little longer.”

Katherine gave a long-suffering sigh. “It'll be a stretch,” she teased, “but I think I'm up to it. Let me go wash up. Is the grill okay?”

Jeff nodded. “Fifteen minutes.”

Humming, she skipped to the cottage and ran up the steps. She pulled open the door and walked straight into Al's hard chest.

“Oh!” She stumbled backward, her pulse jumping. “Excuse me.” She shifted to go around him.

He shifted too.

She took a deep breath and tried again. “Excuse me.”

Al matched her step for step.

She set her mouth and looked at him. “I need to wash for dinner.”

“It's time to talk,” he said in a low voice.

The same low voice he'd used last night, Katherine realized. She wasn't immune to it, but she shook her head. “I can't. I'm meeting a prospective buyer for dinner.”

“The man you've been with today.”

Something about his tone set her teeth on edge. “The man I've been showing around the camping resort today,” she corrected.

He nodded shortly. “Then I'll join you. You need someone with you to protect your interests.”

Taken aback, Katherine gaped at him. “No,” she finally managed, torn between surprise and anger. “Jeff Windsor is a perfect gentleman. He treats me with respect. I can handle this just fine.”

She sensed his frustration and something else. He looked trapped and burdened. It was probably a guilty conscience because he'd acted like a bastard this morning. Well, her ego couldn't take another beating, and she didn't want to hear a bunch of lame apologies, so she did something she wasn't particularly good at. She lied.

“Listen, Al, it's okay. You don't have to explain anything to me.” She stopped looking at him and started talking faster. “I've had time to think about it, and I probably just made a big deal out of something that wasn't such a big deal to you. Last night we didn't do anything irrevocable. Some people would just call it heavy petting.” She shrugged, thinking she was spouting the biggest boatload of brown stuff she'd ever heard come out of her mouth.

“We're fortunate that you had the good sense to stop so there wouldn't be any long-lasting conse—”

He caught her shoulders. “You can't mean this.”

His gaze was turbulent and full of pain. Katherine closed her eyes against it. “Oh, Al, don't do this to me. It's not fair. I'm not sophisticated and worldly. I may have a strong backbone, but I've got thin skin. If you've got an ounce of kindness in you, then leave me alone.” She met his gaze. “I can't handle this hot-and-cold stuff.”

“I didn't explain myself well this morning,” he said. “Last night was important to me too. And—” he looked at the ceiling “—if I were anyone but who I am, I wouldn't have stopped.”

“You're not making any sense.”

“Yes, I am.” He looked as if he were searching for the right words. “This morning I couldn't wait to see you, to touch you again, to see if you were real.”

It was what she'd wanted to hear. This morning. “Al, you moved away when I tried to touch you,” she reminded him.

He frowned. “That was after…”

“After what?”

He released her and ran a hand through his hair. “After I saw someone who reminded me of my position and my responsibilities.”

Katherine was completely confused. “
Who
in the world did you see?”

Al placed his hands on his hips, and his lip twitched in dissatisfaction. “One of my bodyguards.”

“Bodyguard,” she echoed. Her heart thumped in trepidation. Why did Al need a bodyguard? More than one bodyguard.

“Jean-Luc must have witnessed—” he threw out his hand in a gesture of frustration “—us last night. He found your panties and left them in a bag on the front porch.”

Katherine's eyes rounded in shock. She'd been so overwhelmed by Al and the passion of the moment that she could have barely recalled her name last night, let alone a pair of panties. She cringed in embarrassment. “Oh, my God. Someone did watch us.”

“I felt the same way. If it helps, Jean-Luc will never speak of it.”

She felt a blush spread from her toes to the top of her head. “He won't have to. Just knowing—” She covered her cheeks with her hands.

He covered her hands with his and shook his head. “There is no shame in what we did,
chérie.
”

Her heart dipped at the naked look in his eyes. “Now you understand why I acted the way I did this morning.”

Katherine's head reeled with everything he said. She squinted her eyes together trying to sort it all out. She understood he hated the fact that they'd been watched. She understood he'd been upset and acted remote. She still, however, had no idea why his bodyguards were here. Fresh out of clues and patience, she shook her head. “Al, just who the hell are you?”

He sighed and moved her hands from her cheeks to the space between them, twining his fingers with hers. She wondered if he was making sure she wouldn't run. The longer he waited, the more nervous she got. It can't be that bad, she told herself.

“It can't be that bad,” she repeated out loud.

He gave her a half-smile. “Some days it's not.” Then he grew serious again. “I'm not sure how to explain this.”

Katherine was going nuts. She rolled her eyes. “Start with something basic. Your name. Is Al Sanders your real name?”

He shook his head, and Katherine told herself as long as he didn't say he was Elvis or the Antichrist, it would be okay.

“My name is Prince Alexander Ferdinand Merrick de Moreno.”

“Elvis” would have been better.

Katherine's jaw dropped down to her chest. Her knees lost their starch, and it was one heck of a good thing that Al was holding her up.

Her mind started to function again, and she shook her head. A prince on Pirate Island? Al must be deluding himself, she thought, because it simply wasn't possible. It was painful to admit, but the man was a couple of cookies short of a dozen. He was crazy. Sexy, but crazy. She felt a surge of sympathy.

“Al,” she began, smiling gently and pulling her hands from his, “is there any sort of medication you're supposed to be taking?”

Al looked puzzled. “Medication?”

Katherine nodded. “Yes. Something a doctor may have prescribed for you.” She waved her hand. “Perhaps for your head.”

“I rarely get headaches.”

“Yes, but—” She was at a loss. “There are effective medications for confusion and depression and mood swings.”

“Since I'm not confused or depressed, I don't have a need for those medications.”

She remained silent, unable to keep the pity and disbelief from her face.

It took him a minute, then the clouds cleared away. He chuckled. “You don't believe me!”

“Now, Al,” she began in a soothing tone.

He couldn't contain his mirth. “Would papers help?” He continued laughing.

His helpless laughter was getting on her nerves. “Papers can be forged,” she said primly.

Al hooted, losing all semblance of dignity. “I could always get my bodyguard to identify me.”

Katherine frowned at the man holding his stomach and laughing without restraint. “Al, this is serious. If you have a mental problem, you need to get medical attention.”

“Mental problem?” His chuckles gradually subsided into occasional spurts of laughter. Finally he gave a long sigh. “Okay, I'll supply some evidence.” He extended his hand. “Have you ever noticed my ring?”

Katherine looked at the elaborately engraved gold ring and shrugged. “I just assumed it was a fraternity ring.”

“Look again,” he said. “It's my country's seal. The translation for the words is ‘Merrick, Ruler of Moreno. Forever.'”

A shiver ran through her. Still, she found it difficult to accept. “I've never heard of Moreno.”

“It's a small country in the Mediterranean. We export spices, and tourism is growing every year. We're probably best known for our annual fencing tournaments, although most of our visitors are from Europe. The Americans tend to stick to the French Riviera.”

Hanging on to her skepticism, she cocked her head to one side. “Where do you live?”

He shrugged. “In the palace. It's not,” he said in response to her unspoken question, “as glamorous as it seems. The original structure is over two hundred years old, and it seems to be in a constant state of renovation.”

“Sort of like our state highways,” she murmured. Bits and pieces of their conversations nudged at her. The gears of her mind shifted slowly, grinding and dragging with the effort. It all started to make sense. Al's fencing skill. His natural tendency to lead and, she grimaced, often give orders. His fine clothing when he first arrived. His inability to make coffee.

She looked at him and suddenly felt out of her depth. He was a man, yet somehow much more. She could easily imagine him wearing a fine robe and a crown on his head. She could easily imagine him dressed in a stunning formal uniform at a ball, waltzing with a beautiful woman.

She could not easily imagine the woman being her.

He stepped close to her, his gaze intent. “Don't pull back now.”

Her pulse picked up. “I don't know what to say.” She lifted her shoulders. “I don't know what to call you.”

He lifted her hand and brushed the back of it with a kiss. “When we're alone, call me Alex.”

She felt her skin burn. “I'm not sure being alone is a good idea. How do we know when we're really alone?”

He shook his head. “Don't think of it. For the rest of my time here the guards will keep their distance. They won't intrude.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach.
For the rest of my time here.
It stuck like a scratched record, playing over and over in her mind. She looked at him again. So, what was she to him? An amusement? That stung.

For that matter what was he to her? The implications of that question troubled her. It shouldn't matter what he was to her, because he was leaving. She'd always known that. So why did it hurt?

Once he left, she'd never see him again. She didn't move in his circles, never would.

“You're quiet,” he said.

She pushed back her hair and turned away from his questioning eyes. “I'm thinking.”

“God forbid,” he muttered.

She shot him a reproving glance. “It's a lot to take in, Al—Alex. It changes things.”

“No, it doesn't,” he insisted, full of determination. “Not for the next two weeks.”

She sighed in exasperation. “Yes, it does,” she argued. “For Pete's sake, you live in a palace, you have bodyguards. Someday you'll rule a country. You are not an ordinary man.”

He swung her around to face him. “Yes, I am, dammit!” His eyes flashed with anger. “And after last night, if anyone knows that I'm a mere mortal man, it should be you.”

She felt the heat of his emotions. He was so full of masculine passion, anger and pain, she felt it in every crevice of her mind and heart. It was too powerful, too potent for her to handle. At a loss, she took a step back.

“Katherine,” a voice called from the door. “Are we still on for dinner?”

Katherine darted a quick glance at the door and winced. “Oh, no! It's Jeff. I completely forgot. Be there in a minute,” she called, then turned back to Alex with a look of distress.

Alex fought the urge to make her stay, make her accept him and everything he was. The instinct to slam the door in Jeff's face was overwhelming. Nothing had been settled between them, and Alex could feel her slipping away. “We need to finish this,” he said in a low voice. “You need to see that nothing is changed.”

“Oh, Alex.” Her eyes were sad and confused. “I don't know if that's possible.”

He refused to believe it. “We'll talk after you get back. I'll wait.”

She shook her head slowly. “Don't,” she whispered, then turned and left.

 

Katherine looked out the window at the downpour and flashes of lightning.

“Is it always this rainy?” Jeff asked.

“This summer's a little wetter than usual.” She glanced at him and tried for a smile. “It hasn't affected business, though, if that's what you're asking.”

He paused, then nodded in the direction of her plate. “Full?”

Katherine felt the strain of keeping her lips curved upward. “Yes,” she said, thinking that was exactly how she felt. Not full of food, but full of confusion and shock. So full she didn't feel like smiling or talking. The idea of eating the rest of her hamburger made her stomach turn. She thought of Alex and what he was. A prince. Another politician, she thought, and shook her head at what a lousy joke fate had played on her.

“Earth to Katherine, come in please,” Jeff said. “I asked that last question three times. Where are you?”

“Oh!” She winced, chagrined. “I'm sorry.”

He gave a wry smile. “I guess I'm not riveting company this evening.”

“Oh, no,” she protested, feeling guilty. “It's not you. It's me. I'm the one who's not riveting. Now what was that question?”

“I wondered how often you get to the mainland. I'd like to take you to dinner some time.”

She couldn't be less interested, and wanted to kick herself for feeling that way. “I'm so busy with the—” She stopped as the dining-hall door flew open, and Chad burst in, wet and panicky.

He rushed to her side. “We've got a problem. Georgia Hawkins said Davy's missing. She's been looking for him for an hour. She turned her back, and he just disappeared.”

Alarm shot through Katherine. “But he's only three. Where could he have gone?”

Chad shook his head helplessly. “Who knows? She checked all the community rooms. I checked the bathrooms and showers. Al is searching the woods.”

“Al?” A loud boom of thunder split the air. Katherine thought of the heavily wooded acres on the edge of the campground property and shuddered. “That's a horrible place to be during a storm.”

“Yeah, listen, you'd better look in on Georgia. She's getting all upset.”

Another sharp crack of thunder echoed through the room. “Where are you going?”

Chad shrugged as if the choice were obvious. “To the woods.” Then he hurried to the door.

“Be careful,” Katherine called. She turned to Jeff, rising at the same time. “I'm sorry, but I really must leave. If you have any other questions, just call.” She lifted her palms. “I guess I didn't do a great sales job.”

Jeff waved her off. “Don't worry. I'll call.”

Katherine headed for Georgia Hawkins's tent.

A long sixty minutes later Katherine brought Georgia to the cottage and fixed her a cup of herbal tea. The woman was in tears. “It's like he vanished,” she said in a wobbly voice. “My husband left six months ago, and I've had to work such long hours. I thought Davy would love a camping trip.”

“I'm sure he has,” Katherine said soothingly, keeping one eye on the time.
Where was Alex?

“But—”

The door flew open, and Alex strode in with Davy, drenched and crying, in his arms. Chad and three other men came in behind them.

“Davy!” Georgia rushed to take the little boy in her arms.

“He's got a few scratches,” Alex told her, handing over the little boy. “He was in the woods and got scared when lightning struck a tree and knocked it down.”

“Oh, thank you,” Georgia whispered. “This has been the longest night of my life.”

Fifteen minutes later Georgia and Davy left to spend the night in a cabin. Katherine sent along milk and cookies, but Davy was asleep before Georgia said her last thank-you. The three other men followed Georgia out the door, and Chad raided the kitchen.

Al and Katherine stood silently facing each other in the den. After the din of anxious, excited voices, the room seemed painfully quiet. The tension between them was thick and awkward. She searched for something to say, noticing the scrapes on his arms and face.

“Davy wasn't the only one who got scratched,” she finally blurted out.

Al rubbed a mark on his cheek. “He was hiding in some berry bushes. They had thorns.”

Katherine felt a trickle of relief. As a first-grade teacher, she felt scratches and scrapes were her domain. She was glad to have something to do instead of staring at him like a tongue-tied idiot. “You'll need some antibiotic cream on those scrapes so they won't get infected,” she said briskly. “Wait right there, and I'll get it.”

“Is that an order?” he asked in a mild voice.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to see what his mood was, but his face was blank of expression. “Yes, it is. Have a seat, Your Highness.”

She heard his muttered curse as she turned, and didn't have to wonder about his mood anymore. Royally nasty, she thought, and grinned at her private joke. She dampened a washcloth with warm water, collected the cream and Band-Aids from the medicine cabinet, and returned to find him on the sofa with a dark expression on his face.

Sitting beside him, she immediately decided there was a huge difference between caring for a first grader's scrapes and caring for Al's. She considered leaving the first-aid paraphernalia with him and retreating, but her conscience got the best of her. She squared her shoulders. “Hands first.”

He extended his right one, and she winced at the damage. “This must have hurt. Why didn't you mention it when you first came in?”

“It's just blood, Katherine. All men bleed, even me.”

Her gaze shot up to meet his, and the silence hung between them, again, this time more charged than before. She bit her lip.

She gently cleaned his hand, feeling its warmth and strength beneath hers, remembering the tenderness in his touch. The quiet allowed her to think of things best forgotten, to hear the melody that had become his theme song in her heart. She fought against it. “The washcloth might burn a little bit,” she said, her voice sounding loud, “but the cream won't hurt.”

She looked at his arms and remembered how they felt wrapped around her. His skin was smooth, but he was hard beneath. She wondered about his heart. Was it hard too? Was it jaded? Was it capable of love? Damn. The back of her neck grew warm, and she began to feel edgy. “Need a drink?” she asked, abruptly standing. “We've probably got something around here. What's your pleasure?”

He looked at her in that dark, intent way of his. It was annoying because it made her feel exposed. It made her heart jump and her mouth go dry as sand. It made her wish like hell he'd hurry up and answer.

“What do you have?”

Katherine turned to the cabinet where her uncle kept his liquor and began pulling out the bottles. “I don't know. Vodka, Caribbean rum, gin, Scotch.” She stopped. “I guess that's it.”

“Scotch, neat.”

“Okay,” she said, splattering some of the liquid into a glass. In deference to her nerves she poured some into another glass and took a gulp. The bitter liquid nearly scalded her throat. She wheezed and made a face.

“Not your poison?” Al asked in dry tones.

“No. I'd just as soon keep my vocal cords intact.”

Deliberately avoiding his gaze, Katherine gave Al's glass to him and started with his other hand, working quickly. She hummed “The Twelve Days of Christmas” in her mind and planned what color nail polish she'd put on tonight.

After a few minutes she took a deep breath and turned to Al's face. She could have used another drink now. She looked into his eyes and almost moaned.
Make that two drinks.