The Royal Affair (The Palmera Royals) (8 page)

He stood with his strong legs apart, hands resting on slim hips, the sun and the mountain at his back. Marina arched her head as she shaded her eyes and stared up at him. Dark, intense eyes flecked with shards of gold stared down at her, and the tiny creases either side of his lush mouth deepened as he slipped into a broad smile. “You look like some scared doe.”

“Not scared, just hungry. I thought you were going to feed me.”

He laughed and offered her a deep bow. “Your wish is my command.”

“Really? Now that could give a girl ideas.”

A French breadstick in hand, he tore off several bits. He offered her a piece of the crusty loaf. “Care to enlighten me, Princess?”

“Nice try, Wilder, but I’m not that easily blackmailed.” She bit into the aromatic bread.

“Not even if I offer some chicken pâté to go with the bread?”

Marina salivated. “Oh, that is so not playing fair.”

He wafted the pâté in front of her. “Who said things had to be fair? Besides, I know how to make you tell.”

Her eyes widened as he dropped the pâté back into the basket and sat in front of her, folding his long, muscular, jean-clad legs. His knees barely touched hers but spiked a heat to sprint through her veins and settle…well, where it darn well shouldn’t. She corralled the sensual charge as best she could, gritted her teeth and forced herself not to bolt, nor to reach out and grab him. What she really wanted, with increasing frequency, was to hold him and kiss him smack-bang on that far too sexy mouth of his.

Bad girl?

Very bad girl.

Chapter Eight

He reached for her hand and turned it palm upward. Marina’s throat closed. With the barest of touches, he trailed the tip of his forefinger in a slow, teasing circle on her palm.

He lifted his gaze from her hand to fixate on her. “I remember that you’re ticklish.”

The oxygen in her lungs evaporated.

“I also remember
where
you’re ticklish.”

Marina snatched her hand from his and rubbed it up and down her leg as if it would eradicate the feel of him. “Wilder, you are so full of it. And here I was believing your promise to be a gentleman.”

“I am. Have I got you into bed yet?”

Marina blinked once, twice, and then again. Bed. Bed and Jonas.

“You scared of me touching you, Marina?”

Definitely.

“In your dreams.” She reached for the bread and tore another piece from it, slathering it with a large dose of the pâté. “The other promise you made. A picnic—remember?” She bit into the bread and began to chew, but the sustenance she’d declared she craved a moment ago tasted more like cardboard. Food had become the last thing on her mind. But Jonas touching her definitely was front and center in her thoughts.

Seemingly unaware of her emotional conundrum, Jonas uncorked the wine and poured her a glass, though she noted he only drank orange juice. He began to acquaint her with a monologue on the area. “It’s scrub land for the most part.”

She gratefully latched on to the subject. Anything was better than thinking about sex and Jonas in the same heartbeat. “With lots of sheep.”

“We’ve millions of them. The land around here is no use for growing crops, so they mostly raise sheep. West of here is what we call the Desert Road. It’s not actually a sand-type desert, but barren land nevertheless. The army uses it for training.”

With their conversation back to neutral, Marina at last began to relax and even enjoyed the food provided. “There’s something about eating a meal outside.” She reached for another helping.

“Yeah.”

Something in Jonas’s tone snagged at her, and she twisted away from viewing the sheep to face him. Bad move. He licked a dot of pâté from his fingertip, and her imagination rioted. Molten desire surged through her veins instead of blood, and her nipples tightened to buds. She shifted uncomfortably only to catch Jonas watching her, a darkly mischievous glint flickering in eyes that she wanted to drown in. “Problem?”

She swallowed the lump that closed off her airway. “Ah…no…”

“You look a
tad
flushed.”

She scrambled for a response, anything to thwart that teasing look aimed in her direction. “Just a bit of sunburn, that’s all.”

“Sunburn, huh?” Jonas reached into a canvas bag beside the picnic basket. “Maybe I should rub sunblock onto the affected area.” He began to unscrew the cap of the plastic bottle and offered her a cheesy grin. “Tell me where it’s hot, and I’m happy to oblige.”

“I bet you are, but tough luck, I’m not playing this game.”

“Oh, baby, if you could see your face right now.”

She curled her fingers into her palms. “Jonas Wilder, you…you…”

“Now, now, Princess. I’m just teasing.”

“Well, you can
just
stop it. I am not here for your amusement.”

“Shame, it could be fun.”

She offered a snort of derision. “Fun is not allowed on this job.”

Jonas spluttered on his juice. “Job! I’m a job? Since when?”

Marina looked down her aquiline nose at him, desperate to hold on to her self-respect. “Since you asked me to stay and help.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She shot him a
so there
kind of smile. “You’re welcome.” And with that, she picked up another lamington and bit into the chocolate-and-coconut-coated, cream-filled sponge.

Calories? Who cared? This was as good as chocolate, and right now she needed to indulge in more cake or she would reach out and touch Jonas, and that was definitely not a good idea. Touching meant there would be no turning back.

Suitably fed and warmed by the sun, Marina lay down on the blanket and stared up at the sky. Fluffy white clouds drifted by, the sun making inroads into its descent. Jonas too lay down beside her, his earlier teasing words now settled thankfully back to neutral territory. A cooling breeze wafted through the valley, washing over her, as late afternoon shadows began to grace their corner of the earth.

Suddenly, Jonas sat up. “It’s time to get moving again. I told Emerald we’d be home by dinnertime. Emerald mentioned something about us staying for dinner when we pick up Suzie.”

“That’s kind of her.”

“Yeah, real kind. Trouble is she thinks there’s something going on between us.” He wasn’t teasing. “Don’t worry, I set her straight.” His correction should have pleased her, but all it did was make her sad.

While Jonas stashed the picnic gear back into the helicopter, she wandered to the edge of the stream. A shaft of light glinted and caught her attention. Irrationally, fear sprang to life, and she called Jonas. “Are we being watched?”

He came up alongside her, casually slinging an arm over her shoulders. Marina stiffened but didn’t pull away. She kept as still as possible and pointed to where the light flittered through the overhanging tree branches.

Another mistake, because Jonas leaned even closer and peered toward the vegetation for a moment, then straightened. “I doubt it. We’re pretty remote. Can’t imagine the paparazzi would lurk this far from civilization.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them. They’re everywhere.”

“Guess that’s the nature of
your
job.”

“People can resign from a job. My
job
,
as you call it, is something I can’t walk away from.” Even though at times she had dreamed of doing exactly that, she was thankful at least that building her own business went some way to having control of her world, creating something that was solely hers.

But…she wanted more. She wanted…

“Everyone can resign, Marina. It all depends on what you want.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“I hear a ‘but’.”

“There’s always a ‘but’ when the choice isn’t yours alone. I have my family and my country to consider. Branching out with Palmera Stables has already caused a ruckus.”

“I thought they’d be proud of you.”

“They are, now, but it went against the ‘princess’ code of practice. I have an allegiance to others.”

“Does that surpass your own happiness?”

“My happiness?” The reality of her situation saddened her. “That doesn’t even come into the equation. It’s about loyalty. Responsibility. Duty.”

“Sheesh.” He shook his head. An ebony curl fell forward. There had been a time she would have brushed it back for him. Then kissed him. She returned to pack up their picnic gear, and then hopped in beside him in the chopper. “Rather you, than me, Princess.”

He completed the preparation for takeoff, but as the seconds turned into minutes and the rotor blade circled, he seemed to hesitate, checking and rechecking the panel in front of him, tugging at the lever.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked.

Jonas frowned. “You could say that. The cyclic lever is stiff, and the hydraulic light has come on.” He leaned forward and tapped the offending light with a knuckle.

“Which means?”

He shot her a worried look. “That we’re probably not going anywhere soon.”

“You’re joking?”

“Wish I was.”

She watched as he reignited the engine again, head cocked as he listened to the whirring blades. He tugged repeatedly at the lever. “Shit.” Out of the chopper, he lifted the engine cover. “We can’t risk going airborne just yet.”

“Can you fix it?”

He shot her a pensive smile. “Yeah, but…” He reached for a toolbox beneath the rear seat. “I need to check the hydraulic fluids.”

Marina didn’t like the sound of this at all and watched for a few silent moments as Jonas checked the fluids, only to slam the engine cover closed.

“Bloody hell.”

“Jonas? What are you not telling me?”

He flicked the toolbox closed. “I can usually fix it with a little bit of tinkering.”

“Tinkering!”

“Kiwi ingenuity.” He wiped his hands with a rag. “It usually works, but not this time. Not yet, anyways.”

“Can’t you call the mechanic and get them to fly out here?”

“Nope.”

Her stomach did a series of flips. “You don’t mean that?”

“Yep. We’re isolated here. I’ll phone the engineer, but he’ll only tell me what I already think.”

“Which is?”

“I’m afraid, Princess, that we’re stuck here for a while.”

Dread slithered down her spine. “How long exactly? An hour, two?”

“More.”

“More! Specifics, Jonas.”

“More means you get to have a sleepover with me, Princess.”

She scrambled from the chopper, tugging her sweater around her shoulders. “That’s impossible.”

He glanced around them, scanning the beautifully rugged landscape. “Don’t you like camping?”

“Camping! We have a helicopter, no tent, no food, no sleeping bags.”

“Hey, I could keep you warm. Just think, you and me, cozy under the stars.”

The man was smiling, darn it, but worse, that blasted smile was edging under her skin just like before, just like the nights and days he’d made love to her. As he kept on smiling, a sudden suspicion whirred to life in her brain. She eyed him, looking for any hint of deception on his part. “You’re joking,” she accused.

He shook his head. “’Fraid not. It’s the stars and moon and you and me, all alone.”

“But what about your phone? You have your cellphone and could phone for help.”

“They can’t do anything I can’t. It’s a time thing. Hydraulics do that. The temperature here and the altitude play around with the hydraulic fluid. Look, I’m sorry this puts your princess sensibilities out and I can’t offer you five-star accommodation.”

“I never asked for that.”

“You didn’t need to. I can see the desperation written all over your face.” Disgust colored his expression as he turned from her and started doing whatever it was he had to do to get this flying beast up in the air, leaving her with her mouth open and ready to speak. Instead, she clammed up. The man thought she protested because he couldn’t offer her what he
perceived
she wanted, expected, because of who and what she was.

How wrong he was. Totally and utterly. It had nothing to do with fancy hotels, and everything to do with being alone with him. Close and cozy, as he put it. That was way too dangerous, as far as she was concerned. The man had already broken her heart once. Twice would be two times too many.

For a few minutes, he scavenged inside the chopper, retrieving their picnic basket and a torch and sleeping bag. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Where?”

“That twinkling over there—your paparazzi is a cabin. May have been a remnant of early settlers, who knows, but it’ll be warmer and drier than sleeping rough.”

“I thought we’d sleep in the chopper.”

“A bit cramped. This way we get to stretch out. Trust me, it’ll be a home away from home. Come on, let’s check it out.” Jonas strode toward the cabin, Marina following, but as they neared, she hesitated.

“Are you sure? It looks pretty rundown.”

Jonas halted, spinning round to face her. “What’s a little dust and dirt? I’ll have you know I was a Boy Scout. Do you think you’d go for a man in uniform?” He wriggled his brows suggestively.

She shook her head, unable to temper the smile forming. “As far as I recall, the Boy Scouts wear shorts, and your knees are a tad on the knobbly side. Not a good look for shorts.”

“Anything else you remember?”

Everything.
“Actually, there is. I remember you promised to be a gentleman.”

“And you’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”

Her smile broadened, and she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “Not for a minute. Now,
Mr. Wilder,
I thought you were going to try to phone the engineer, and you also need to let Emerald know we’re delayed a bit.”

Jonas shifted his gaze toward the small hill backing their valley. The landscape was covered in scraggly crops of native bush, and a few sheep grazed without a care in the world. “I can try, but doubt it if my cell will get any reception here. We’re pretty bloody remote, Marina. But you’re right. I’ll give it a go.”

She offered a satisfied smile. “I know I am.”

He returned her smile, sending her stomach on another tumble of somersaults. “Typical woman, you always want to be right.”

“It’s a
female thing,
but then it’s also because we
are
always right.”

Jonas rolled his eyes. “That, Princess, is a debate for another day. But, yeah, I’ll go do the he-man thing and climb the mountain.”

“Mountain? It’s a pimple of a hill.”

“Sheesh.” He dragged a hand through his hair, and she noted a smudge of oil on his cheek. “And here I was offering to be your Tarzan.”

“Do you really fancy swinging through the trees on a thin piece of vine? And don’t forget the loincloth.” She purposefully eyed him up and down…slowly. “Then again…”

“Now, you can stop right there. I’m not donning a loincloth for anyone.”

“Not even me?”

“Only if it meant you get to take it off.”

She shook her head. “Not likely. You’re meant to be a gentleman.”

“So I guess Tarzan and his ape-man act is out. Mind you, swinging on a vine isn’t my thing either, since I’m scared of heights.”

“You’re joking? You fly. You’re thousands of feet up in the air in that thing.” She flicked a thumb toward the helicopter that right now wouldn’t get them two feet off the ground.

“Flying is different from doing a Tarzan imitation. I don’t look down, only ahead.” He drew his cell from his pocket and held it skyward to gauge reception. He clicked his tongue. “Not much, but I’ll head up the hill to see if I can get a call out.”

Jonas trudged through the ice-cold stream, its water coming down from the snow-capped mountain, and headed up the hill on the other side. Every few steps, he held up his cell phone to see if he had reception. It barely registered.