have represented. Did she have any right to refuse her own child this amazing gift? Especially one she would have given just about everything to have herself? She didn’t want to face the fact that having Maximo involved in the raising of their child was the right thing to do. What she wanted was for things to turn out according to her plan. But she knew that wasn’t possible now.
The plane touched down on the tarmac and her stomach rose into her throat.
When the small aircraft came to a stop, the stairs let down and Maximo took her arm in a very proprietary manner, his posture stiff. He held her as far from his body as was possible, as though too much contact was beneath his royal self. Which was just fine with her. She was still disturbed by the strange effect he seemed to be having on her equilibrium. It was as though her self-control had gone on vacation and now her body was making up for it by craving a whole host of things that had just never seemed important before.
She would much rather have him be aloof than have him touch her again like he’d done at his house. She could easily remember the slow burn against her lip as he drew his thumb over the sensitive skin. She shivered, trying to shake off the little thrill that assaulted her as the scene replayed in her mind.
A crew of five lined the runway, ready to unload his royal highness’s luggage, and her one little carry-on bag. She’d chosen to pack conservatively since she planned to be back in Seattle in just a few days, but seeing all of his belongings next to her one well-used suitcase made the disparity between their social standing widen before her eyes.
He ushered her into the back of the black limousine that was waiting for them, and she complied, mostly because she was in such awe of the wealth that surrounded her.
Money she was used to. For the early part of her childhood her family had enjoyed quite a bit of luxury, and though there were a few years of poverty after her father left, she remembered what it was like to live in the most coveted home in the cul-de-sac. Even now her income was healthier than most, though she chose to save her money rather than spend it on frivolous possessions.
But this … this was like nothing she had ever encountered.
The sleek limo slid through the wrought-iron gates that served to divide the castle and its inhabitants from the serfs who populated the rest of the island. Massive stone statues of men with swords stood watch by the gates, as if to reinforce the exclusivity of the location.
“No moat?” she asked facetiously as she gazed up at one massive turret that rose from the inner walls.
“No, the crocodiles could never discern between the intruders and the residents, so it made for a lousy security system. Now we just have a silent alarm like everyone else.”
His unexpected stab at humor brought a giggle to her lips. “No hot oil, then, either?”
“Only in the kitchen.” A small smirk teased the corner of his mouth and she noticed a small dimple that creased his cheek. Why couldn’t he stay austere and distant? It was easier to see him as the opposition when he was being an autocrat, much more difficult to do so when he actually seemed likable.
They came to a stop in front of the heavy double doors that were flanked, to her amusement, by formally dressed guards who didn’t look so different from the stone soldiers that stood at the gates.
He turned to face her, the full impact of his masculinity leaving her close to breathless. “After the doctor comes to perform the test, we will be having dinner with my parents so that I can introduce you to them.”
“Why would you need to introduce me?”
“Apart from the fact that you’re a guest, you are also the mother of my child, and their grandchild.”
Grandparents. He could even give her son or daughter grandparents, while she … well, her own father was heaven-knew-where and her mother was an extremely bitter woman who drank her issues away and forced everyone around her to listen to her vitriolic diatribes about life and men in general. Alison would never subject her child to that. She didn’t even subject herself to it unless absolutely necessary.
“This just gets more and more complicated.” She put her hand over her face and pressed hard on her eyes, trying to stop tears from overflowing. It was overwhelming in so many ways. Being pregnant, actually knowing she was having a baby, had been change enough, but to add all of this seemed impossible.
“They have every right to their grandchild, as I have every right to my child. Just as much right as you have, Alison. I will not allow you to deny my family this chance.”
Anger rolled through her, heating her blood, giving her strength. “By royal decree, is that it? Is this where the dungeon comes into play?”
“What is it with you and dungeons? Do you have some kind of weird fetish?”
“Just concerned I might end up on a twenty-four-hour cable news channel. American held captive by primitive prince,” she snapped. She pressed cool hands to her cheeks in an effort to release some of the heat that had mounted at his mention of fetishes. As if she would ever, ever, let a man tie her up so he could have his way with her.
Oddly, instead of the distaste she expected the thought to evoke, when she placed Maximo in the role of her captor, a sensual thrill tightened her stomach. Completely shocked by the direction of her usually sexless thoughts she turned her burning face away from Maximo and opened her own door, not waiting for any of the overeager staff who had appeared outside the palace, to assist her.
Maximo caught up to her in two easy strides, his long legs eating up the ground much faster than her five foot four inches would allow her to do. “Have I embarrassed you, tesoro?”
She ignored him, thrusting her chin up and trying to look unaffected by him, his presence and his innuendos.
He gripped her hand and stopped her from walking, drawing her close to him. Her heart began to pound so hard she was certain he must be able to hear it. Standing this close to him she could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell the heady, masculine scent that was one hundred percent raw, sexual man. One hundred percent Maximo.
Since when had she noticed how a man smelled? Unless she was at the gym and it was in a negative connotation she didn’t think she ever had. So why did Maximo’s smell appeal to her like this? Why did it make her pulse race and her breasts feel heavy? He wasn’t wearing cologne or any other kind of added scent. It was just him.
“I would have thought that a sophisticated career woman like you wouldn’t be so easy to embarrass.” He brushed his thumb across her burning cheek. She knew she was flushed, could tell by how hot she felt. “But it seems as though I’ve made you blush, cara.”
“Stop with the foreign endearments,” she said, her voice sounding breathless rather than snappy as she’d intended. “I don’t like them.”
“Really?” He dipped his head and her stomach dropped. She had thought, for one breathless moment, that he might be leaning in to kiss her. “Most women find them very sexy.”
“I’m not most women.”
He frowned, his dark gaze searching. “No, you’re not.”
She didn’t know whether or not she should feel complimented by that, but she did. Not that she would let him know it. His words shouldn’t have the power to flatter or hurt her in any way. They shouldn’t
