you will be safe.’
Because she was under some kind of threat? ‘Why wouldn’t I be safe in San Felipe?’
‘You were not planning to stay in San Felipe.’
No. She hadn’t been. Another chilly finger pressed on her spine. ‘So where are you taking me?’
But it seemed he’d used up his word allowance for the day.
The helicopter’s engine was already running, the rotor blades whirring. Automatically she ran in low, and refused the offer of assistance from another soldier waiting inside. She knew how to strap in safely—she’d done it thousands of times.
Her bag was thrown in and the Captain pulled himself up into the seat alongside her, so she was boxed in by uniformed men—as if she were about to make a break for her escape.
Or as if she needed bodyguards.
She looked past the Captain to watch out of the window as the helicopter lifted into the air, her fingers curled tight into her palms. Didn’t she have the right to know where she was being taken?
The men said nothing, but simply by watching out of the window she had the answer in less than twenty minutes.
Initially, from the air, the island looked imposing and inhospitable. It seemed little more than an oversized rock; nothing but sheer cliffs with jagged edges—a rival for Alcatraz. But as they flew closer she saw a rocky outcrop along the left side. It created a lagoon that harboured the smallest, most private of beaches. On the edge of that rocky outcrop was a tall fortress—a defence tower built centuries ago, to prevent intruders from entering the beautiful lagoon and disturbing those on the beach.
Looking back to the main chunk of the island, she could now see a large stone building. Before she’d only seen it in pictures, but she knew exactly where she was headed. This was the most private place in San Felipe. Access was forbidden unless you had a royal invitation. Because this was the island upon which the royal family vacationed in seclusion, escaping the exhaustion of their daily demands.
But this was no relaxed, simple holiday home. This was a palace, ornate and ancient, one of the many jewels in the crown of an island principality that had been celebrated for centuries.
The helicopter circled, giving Stella a perfect view of stone columns, stained glass, statues. The gardens surrounding the main building were large, formal and immaculate. Miles of hedging grew in intricate Renaissance patterns, swirling around rose beds and ponds. She caught a glimpse of a deeper blue beneath a stone archway—a pool. Another glimpse of something white. Her eyes were so wide they hurt, and there was a constriction in her throat that made breathing painful.
Most people would be thrilled to get a bird’s eye view of this utterly exclusive island—and be beyond excited at the thought of setting foot on the place. Stella wasn’t most people. Stella felt sick.
As the helicopter began its descent to a small helipad on the farthest reaches of the garden a loud drumming thundered in her ears. She couldn’t tell if the noise was her heart or the helicopter, but it was growing louder, and her breaths came shorter. Her vision blurred.
Control yourself.
She tensed her muscles and mentally issued the order. She couldn’t afford to be weak now. She had to be stronger than ever. She had to be the soldier she was and be ready to fight.
‘If you would follow me, please?’ The Captain exited the helicopter, hefting her bag onto his shoulder.
Well, it wasn’t as if she had any choice. She quickly followed him along the immaculately tended pathways, feeling as if she was in the pages of a twisted fairy tale in which she had to cross an enchanted garden to find a beastly prince waiting for her in the castle.
Except he wasn’t beastly. And that was the problem.
She wasn’t led to the ginormous archway and large heavy doors that comprised the main entrance. Instead the Captain led her along a small path and then up a narrow stone staircase that took them to a wide patio that ran the length of the building. Large windows were set back from the uniform stone columns, and every so often formed a set of French doors.
Almost at the end of the building, one set of such doors was thrown wide open. Glimpsing a gloomy interior, she could see rows of bookshelves lining the walls.
The Captain led her right to the doorway, then turned and bowed. ‘I will leave you here.’
He was gone almost instantly, his retreat swift and silent. He took her bag with him. And her passport.
Stella paused, unwilling to take the fateful step inside. She knew that Prince Eduardo De Santis would be waiting for her in that room. The piratical playboy Prince, the handsome patron of all things adventurous and glamorous in San Felipe. Capricious, spontaneous, spoiled.
Everything she wasn’t.
Yet he was her one spectacular mistake. Her one tryst. The one thing her supremely disciplined self had been unable to resist that afternoon. And it seemed she was going to pay a fearsome price for her moment of Prince Eduardo’s kind of fun. So now she was more than wary. But, despite the time she’d had to prepare herself, she felt utterly unready to face him. She had no uniform to hide behind, no tactical plan to ensure she won this battle.
And it was going to be a battle—against herself as much as against him.
‘Don’t stand out there all day.’ His voice carried through the open door. ‘Strange things sometimes happen if you stay in the sun too long.’
It was part command, part dry warning, part pointed reminder. And just his voice had her reacting in ways she didn’t want to. Memories flickered at the edge of her mind. Teasing and tempting.
She couldn’t let herself remember. Couldn’t let herself fall again. She’d lost too much already.
Prince Eduardo De Santis wasn’t so much a ruthlessly wicked rake as a seductive buccaneer. He didn’t leave masses of broken hearts in his wake, more soft-eyed smiles and ‘if only he would’ sighs. But he never ‘would’—Eduardo was too much of a freedom loving soul ever to be caught fast.
For many, that was part of his allure.
No one had a bad word to say about him, but he was most definitely not all good. He did as he pleased, and pleased as he did. A lover of action and adventure, he was a princely poster boy for all San Felipe’s outdoor amusements.
And didn’t she know that fact intimately?
Steeling herself, she walked into the room, blinking to hasten the adjustment her eyes needed to make from the brilliant sunshine to this dim interior. Despite the spots dancing in front of her eyes she saw him immediately. And quelled her quiver. He was as devastating as ever.
Tall, with thick black hair worn slightly too long, adding to his air of unruliness. His muscled body was clad in a black tee shirt and black jeans. He looked like a special ops assassin—only his feet were bare, in that arrogantly easy way that was so uniquely him. He leaned against the closed door, watching her with eyes that shone remarkably blue. The exact intense hue of the lapis lazuli the islands were famed for.
That burning sensation curled within her. Her cells smoked at the mere sight of him. And
