Romancing The Crown: Drew and Samira. Eileen Wilks

The contact felt obscurely right, and he didn’t want to analyze his motives or consider consequences. She gave her aunt a kiss on the cheek, her aunt gave her a lacy black shawl, and he left the house with Rose’s hand in his.

      The air felt like silk on what little bare skin it could reach. Drew found himself regretting the way he’d chosen to entertain her tonight. It demanded far too many clothes.

      On his part, at least. He glanced at the woman beside him. There was a great deal of her skin available to the evening air. Perhaps he hadn’t made such a bad choice, after all.

      Dammit. He had no business regretting or enjoying his plans for the night. Rose was a beautiful woman, but more than that, she was vivid—sensual, unexpected, brimming with life. He couldn’t help responding and needn’t apologize for it. But tonight wasn’t about him and his unruly libido. He needed to remember that.

      ‘‘Am I allowed to know where we’re going?’’

      ‘‘First to the car. I had to park a few blocks away. Then, I’m afraid, to pick up my cousin.’’ That startled her. And didn’t please her overmuch, he thought.

      ‘‘Which one?’’

      ‘‘Lorenzo. It’s his car. Is it my imagination, or are we attracting more than our share of attention?’’

      She chuckled. ‘‘What did you expect? I didn’t tell anyone I was going out with the queen’s nephew, but I did ask my assistant to close the shop for me tonight—after you’d come to see me this afternoon. That would be all it took to start the gossip moving. They’re probably disappointed you didn’t pick me up in a limo.’’

      He raised his eyebrows. ‘‘Do you know all the people who have been staring at us, then?’’

      ‘‘Don’t you know most of the people in the village near your family’s estate?’’

      ‘‘Montebello isn’t a village. The population of the capital alone is over two hundred thousand.’’

      ‘‘But there aren’t two hundred thousand people on my street. I’ve lived in the house we just left for seventeen years.’’

      He was reminded of what Lorenzo had said about Montebello and the village mind. ‘‘Most of our admirers seem to be smiling. They must approve. No, wait. The woman standing in front of the pharmacy you recommended to me for sunscreen is scowling at me. No doubt she reads the same magazines your aunt does.’’

      ‘‘Natala Baldovino.’’ She sighed. ‘‘It isn’t your reputation that puts a scowl on her face. It’s mine. She probably thinks I’ve put a spell on you and is trying to decide which authority to report me to. Maybe I should warn her not to bother telling Captain Mylonas. He doesn’t go in for all that psychic nonsense.’’

      Startled, he said nothing.

      ‘‘Look.’’ She stopped, pulling her hand away from his, and faced him. ‘‘We may as well get this out of the way. How did you get my address?’’

      ‘‘From Lorenzo,’’ he admitted, since it was obvious she’d guessed that much.

      ‘‘That wouldn’t be the only information he gave you about me. Your cousin, whose car you borrowed, thinks that either I’m responsible for the bomb at the airport or I know who is. He would have told you that. You must have decided to give me the benefit of the doubt, and I appreciate it. I don’t appreciate being manipulated.’’

      ‘‘I beg your pardon?’’

      She made a small, disgusted noise. ‘‘This business of picking up your cousin because you have his car. His Grace owns more than one car. He could catch a ride with a dozen other people, not counting the police or his own staff. But you’ve arranged things so that I have to face a man who thinks I’m in league with the—oh, I don’t have any words bad enough for them. With the Brothers. That’s a surprise, all right, but not the kind I was expecting when you asked me out.’’

      Her perception of him shook him—but she didn’t really know why he’d set things up this way. She’d guessed part of it, but not all. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’

      ‘‘Judging by the expression on your face, that much is true.’’

      His face wore a readable expression? ‘‘I didn’t think you’d realize Lorenzo held you in suspicion. He did arrange for Captain Mylonas to let you go.’’

      ‘‘Because there’s no evidence against me, not because he doesn’t suspect me. I’m not an idiot. He’s probably having me followed, though I haven’t spotted anyone lurking behind us yet. I understand why your cousin is suspicious, but that doesn’t make him pleasant company for me.’’

      Best, he decided, to speak as much truth as possible. She was too bright to swallow a comfortable lie. ‘‘I’m afraid you’re right. Lorenzo believes you know more than you’ve admitted. He insisted I arrange things this way tonight. I think he wants to reassure himself I haven’t fallen under your spell.’’ He captured her hands. ‘‘Not the kind of spell your Signora Baldovino has in mind… I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince him, though. I’m not sure it isn’t true.’’

      She studied him for a long moment before pulling one of her hands away. ‘‘She’s not my Signora Baldovino,’’ was all she said, but she left her other hand in his as they started walking again.

      Neither of them spoke again until they reached the car, a silver Mercedes Benz. For Drew, the silence was a relief. Concealing facts and feelings came naturally. Deceit, he was learning, wasn’t the same as concealment.

      He reached across her to unlock her door, but paused before opening it. ‘‘Do you see the man in the blue shirt who just rounded the corner? We need to give him time to reach his car, but it’s me he’s following, not you.’’

      She stood so close, almost within the circle of his arms, that he could see the dark rims around her irises, like midnight encircling the ocean. ‘‘Why is he following you? And why do we want him to?’’

      ‘‘I refuse to go everywhere flanked by bodyguards. My cousin refuses to let me wander around Montebello without them. The gentleman in the blue shirt is a compromise.’’

      Her eyes widened. He could feel the warmth from her body calling to his. She smelled of roses and something darker, a hint of musk and secrets. ‘‘You’re a target because of your relationship to the Crown. I…hadn’t realized.’’

      ‘‘Not a primary target. Maybe not a target at all, now that Lucas is back and war seems unlikely, but kidnapping remains a possibility. My uncle wouldn’t deal with terrorists, no matter whom they held hostage, but we can’t be sure they believe that. It’s only fair that you be aware of this. I wouldn’t have asked you out if the danger was great, but there is some risk. There’s also some loss of privacy.’’

      Her smile came slowly and her voice, when she spoke, was light. Deliberately so, he thought. ‘‘As long as the gentleman in the blue shirt doesn’t find it necessary to peep in windows, I’m not worried about the loss of privacy. My neighbors will be watching us much more keenly than he will, believe me. As for the danger…we’ll just have to hope I’m a good enough seer to keep us both out of trouble, won’t we?’’

      Something complex and silent seemed to pass between them, a communication he lacked the understanding to translate. Heat, yes—that was there. It was the other message he didn’t have words for. But he felt it.

      He looked away before she did and opened her door. She slid inside.

      How could he keep from respecting her courage? Drew had no answer for that as he settled behind the wheel.

      ‘‘So where will you, me and your suspicious cousin be eating dinner?’’

      ‘‘Didn’t I tell you?’’ A smile touched his lips as he clicked the seat belt in place. ‘‘At the palace.