frustration had burned at yet another disappointment. What did she have to do to prove her worth and make him see she was as fine a soldier as the men he favoured?
Back in her barracks, her anger had burned hotter. She’d been passed over for so many opportunities. Sure, she’d had a few crumbs thrown her way, but nothing that she’d really wanted, and she was busting her butt every single day.
She hadn’t been able to stick around the base in such a septic mood—she’d needed to get her game face back. So she’d left her room and walked out into the afternoon sun.
While she wasn’t on active duty she was required to be available in case anything came up. But she’d known she’d hear the siren from the bay if there was an emergency. Which there rarely was. And just a short time out wasn’t going to hurt anyone.
The base was situated on a cliff overlooking the sea. To a rock-climber it was a good challenge, because at the bottom of the cliff, hidden by a rocky outcrop, was the Cala de Piratas—a bay accessible from the other side of the beach only at low tide because of the treacherous rocks surrounding it. Tiny, beautiful, dangerous.
Stella had climbed down—out of sight of her superiors, away from everyone.
It was island legend that some of San Felipe’s wealth had come from the pirate ships that had been sunk against the jagged rocks hidden just below the rough waves. That legend was embellished with the whisper that even the royal family had a rogue pirate in their ancestry. Tourists paid handsomely to dive and explore the various wrecks not far from the island’s shores, hoping to find gold.
But they didn’t dive here, the place at the heart of the pirate folklore, because at this bay there was a rip tide that not even the strongest ocean swimmer could conquer. Stella hadn’t intended to swim—only to wash the sweat from her skin and cool the angry heat of her muscles. She’d kicked off her shoes and strode straight in, water splashing her shorts and tee shirt. But as she’d walked forward a large wave had buffeted her and she’d stumbled, almost slipped right under the water.
Strong arms had suddenly banded around her and pulled her back against a large body of steel. Hard. Forceful. Threatening.
Shocked, she’d jerked her elbow to free her arm and, moving on pure defensive instinct, turned and lashed out. She’d been trained well and her fist had landed true and hard.
She had heard his grunt and her own as visceral pain had zinged up her arm. She’d quickly flicked her fingers, reeling at the impact of bone on bone. But she’d drawn her arm back again, ready to land another.
But the giant who’d grabbed her had reached even more quickly, catching hold of her upper arm and twisting it behind her, pulling her harder, more tightly into his steely body.
‘Stop fighting. I’m not going to hurt you,’ he’d said, in a deep, loud voice right in her ear.
She knew her best plan was to go limp, then move and take him by surprise. But when she let her muscles relax and fell against him he pulled her closer still, locking her into a hold she knew she mightn’t be able to escape.
It seemed he’d been trained too.
‘You have a powerful punch,’ he said.
Her throat clogged, but not with fear. She recognised that voice.
At three in the afternoon Prince Eduardo De Santis was wearing a tuxedo that was now wet to the waist. As the waves ebbed and flowed, the water moulded his trousers to his long, muscled legs and he was moulding her to him. Her wrists were bound in his broad hands and twisted tight behind her back, thrusting her forward so she was pressed flat against his torso. His legs were parted only enough to lock hers together between his.
Because of the motion of the waves battering them she remained standing only because he held her trapped against him. Because of his strength.
Her anger morphed into something far more dangerous. Far more tantalising. Far more foreign.
Stella didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t believe it. But that melting sensation deep inside her was undeniable. She’d had many hand-to-hand training sessions with men. All kinds of scenarios. She’d never become aroused by any.
‘You’re Prince Eduardo,’ she said stupidly.
And while he might not want to hurt her, she’d certainly hurt him. Already the skin around his eye was reddened. It was going to result in a mega bruise. She wanted to curl into a ball and die of shame.
He inclined his head in acknowledgement, but didn’t loosen his grip. ‘You have the advantage. I do not know your name.’
And he wasn’t going to. Her father would kill her. She’d be demoted in seconds. And she’d be a laughing stock.
‘Why are you here?’ he asked. ‘This cove is not safe. Soon enough the tide will sweep back in and the sand will almost vanish. You’ll be stuck here for the next twelve hours.’
A hitherto mute part of her figured that wasn’t that bad an option if he was going to be here too...
‘I’m sorry I hit you,’ she said roughly, embarrassed at that rogue thought. ‘It might sting for a while. Then it will discolour. You’re going to be marked for a few days.’
His low laugh reverberated within her.
‘You think I haven’t been bruised before?’
Well, she’d never seen a picture of either prince with a black eye.
He smiled, and suddenly looked exactly as if he had a suave, dangerous pirate ancestor. ‘If you feel that bad about it, you could always kiss it better.’
‘I’m better at hitting than kissing,’ she answered bluntly. Honestly.
She wished he’d release her. The waves washing against her were doing nothing to cool the embers igniting within her. So inappropriate. So reckless.
His wickedly blue eyes sharpened. ‘If you kiss half as well as you hit, then I’ll be feeling fantastic in a heartbeat.’
She shook her head. But tendrils of temptation unfurled low in her belly.
This was the playful pirate Prince Eduardo, who charmed and made women smile and sigh. And Stella was as susceptible as any of them. Truthfully, he’d always been her favourite of the two. A stupid crush held since her teens. It was the fire in his eyes and his daredevil nature that appealed to something within her own soul.
‘Perhaps I should show you how it’s done.’ The smile on his sensual lips deepened. ‘Or are you going to say no to me?’
‘Does anyone ever say no to you?’ she asked, sounding more scornful than she’d intended.
She felt the tiniest flinch as his muscles tightened that impossible notch more.
‘Maybe I ought to be the first,’ she added.
‘You’re telling yourself that I need a lesson?’ he asked, the edginess returning. ‘You don’t strike me as a woman who’d hide behind something so obvious. I did not think you would be so afraid.’
