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Princess From the Shadows
Maisey Yates


Santina Secret Baby Scandal!Santina’s royal palace officials were tight-lipped about claims that Prince Rodriguez Anguiano was jilted by his fiancée. But it seems the prince did not leave Santina empty-handed after all – he’s taking with him one reluctant bride! Princess Carlotta Santina has been living out of the spotlight and under a cloud ever since a certain event.Now, finally fulfilling her role of dutiful royal, she’s arriving at Rodriguez’s Spanish palace in preparation for their forthcoming nuptials… Perhaps the prince should get some new advisors because he’s about to discover that his blushing bride comes with an unexpected bonus!












‘Santina hasn’t been my home for a long time. How will your people feel about this?’


‘About what?’

‘You marrying a woman who has a child. Clearly, I’m not your standard-issue virgin princess.’

‘I doubt my people are under the illusion I have any desire for a virgin princess. I’m certainly not a virgin, neither do I pretend to be one.’

For some reason, Rodriguez’s immediate dismissal of the idea gave Carlotta a strange rush of pleasure. She shouldn’t care whether he approved of her or not, and yet, for some reason, it satisfied her to know that he hadn’t really expected, or cared, if his bride were pure as the driven the snow.

‘What you desire, and what’s expected, are two very different things.’

‘I assume you’re an expert?’

‘I can claim a bit of experience in the area, yes,’ she said.


THE

SANTINA CROWN

Royalty has never been so scandalous!

STOP PRESS—Crown Prince in shock marriage

The tabloid headlines … When HRH Crown Prince Alessandro of Santina proposes to paparazzi favourite Allegra Jackson it promises to be the social event of the decade —outrageous headlines guaranteed!

The salacious gossip … Mills & Boon invites you to rub shoulders with royalty, sheikhs and glamorous socialites. Step into the decadent playground of the world’s rich and famous …

THE SANTINA CROWN

THE PRICE OF ROYAL DUTY – Penny Jordan

THE SHEIKH’S HEIR – Sharon Kendrick

THE SCANDALOUS PRINCESS – Kate Hewitt

THE MAN BEHIND THE SCARS – Caitlin Crews

DEFYING THE PRINCE – Sarah Morgan

PRINCESS FROM THE SHADOWS – Maisey Yates

THE GIRL NOBODY WANTED – Lynn Raye Harris

PLAYING THE ROYAL GAME – Carol Marinelli




About the Author


MAISEY YATES was an avid Mills & Boon


Modern


romance reader before she began to write them. She still can’t quite believe she’s lucky enough to get to create her very own sexy alpha heroes and feisty heroines. Seeing her name on one of those lovely covers is a dream come true.

Maisey lives with her handsome, wonderful, nappy-changing husband and three small children across the street from her extremely supportive parents and the home she grew up in, in the wilds of Southern Oregon, USA. She enjoys the contrast of living in a place where you might wake up to find a bear on your back porch and then heading into the home office to write stories that take place in exotic urban locales.


The

Santina Crown





Princess From

the Shadows





Maisey Yates






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For my kids, Aidric, Kian and Alani. You provided

a lot of inspiration for this book. Thanks for

always keeping me on my toes, and for

teaching me about love every single day.




CHAPTER ONE


“WHAT do you mean she’s gone?” Prince Rodriguez Anguiano looked down at Eduardo Santina, King of Santina, and his future father-in-law, and swore he saw sweat beading on the older man’s brow.

The king was known for being formidable, tough and unbending. Watching him sweat was unexpected. And more than a little bit interesting.

King Eduardo cleared his throat. “Just that. Sophia is gone. She left with a maharaja.”

Rodriguez felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “A maharaja? Is marrying a prince not enough for some women? They feel the need to pursue a more… exotic title?”

King Eduardo’s face darkened, color creeping into his cheeks. “She has done so without my permission.”

“I’m assuming, since my intended fiancée has run away with a maharaja, the wedding is off?” The king only looked at him and Rodriguez felt a vague sense of relief wash through him. He had been prepared to do the marriage thing, but truly, he hadn’t been looking forward to it. In his estimation it was a ball and chain situation, and he didn’t know anyone who would willingly shackle themselves in that manner. Yet people did seem to get married. It was the heir factor, one he couldn’t ignore forever, but for a while longer, maybe.

Sophia had been pretty enough, a beautiful brunette with a real classic beauty. But even that would get old after a while. Now he could go back to Santa Christobel and celebrate with a blonde. Maybe a redhead. Maybe both. Not that he usually went in for that sort of thing but he’d had six long, unheard-of months of celibacy so that he could present his future bride with medical proof of his good health. And now that there would be no wedding, it had just been six months of physical torture.

“Father?”

Rodriguez turned, his ears always tuned in to sultry, feminine tones. But in this instance, the tone did not match the looks. One of Eduardo’s other daughters was standing in the entryway, sleek brown hair hanging just beneath her chin. All no-nonsense and practical, as was the rest of her attire.

Wide-leg beige slacks, a white button-up top and metallic ballet slipper-style shoes. She looked like she’d stepped out of the pages of a business-casual catalog. She was tall, slim, only a couple of inches shorter than he was, and her face was pleasant enough, but with none of the flash and paint he was accustomed to seeing on a woman.

“Sorry,” she said, inclining her head. “I didn’t realize that you were busy.” She turned to go, and for some reason, he was sorry to see it.

“Carlotta.”

She paused and turned back again. This time he noticed how green her eyes were. “Yes, Father?”

“Stay for a moment.”

Carlotta gave him a brief icy look before turning her focus back to her father.

“This is Prince Rodriguez Anguiano. Your sister Sophia’s fiancé.”

She looked at him again, her expression blank. She was strange, contained, demure almost, and yet he could sense something beneath it. Something she seemed determined not to reveal.

“Charmed,” he said, flashing her a grin. “Though I don’t know that I’m Sophia’s fiancé any longer. As she’s run off with the maharaja.”

Carlotta blinked owlish green eyes at him before shooting her father a worried look. That’s where her emotion was, reserved for the old man. She seemed to fear him, or at least feel nervous around him. Rodriguez couldn’t even find the slightest bit of fear in himself. The king posed no threat to him. A lion who was all roar and no maul. He knew the other kind, the kind who wouldn’t hesitate to tear out your throat. It made it very hard to take a man like Eduardo Santina seriously.

His daughter, on the other hand, seemed to feel differently.

“She did not ‘run off’ with the mahar—with Ashok,” Eduardo said.

“I don’t care if she walked, ran or flew in his private jet. The bottom line is the same. I am out a fiancée, and we seem to have no more marriage bargain,” Rodriguez countered.

Carlotta shifted on her sensible shoes. “Can I go?”

“No,” her father said.

“I don’t really care what you do,” Rodriguez threw in, mildly amused by the whole situation. What adult woman asked her father for permission to do anything? Obviously not his ex–intended bride, Sophia Santina. But apparently Carlotta Santina was another matter.

Carlotta’s eyes narrowed slightly in his direction, before flickering back to her father. “I need to call Luca before…”

“It can wait, Carlotta. Do me this one favor,” Eduardo bit out roughly, the strain of the situation not well hidden.

Carlotta seemed to shrink and Rodriguez felt his stomach turn sour. Dios, but he hated men like that. Men who used their strength, their power, over others like that. Over their own children.

“I’m done here, actually,” Rodriguez said. “If you have no bride for me, I have no reason to stay.” Unless one of the maids is looking to get lucky.

“Tell me, Rodriguez, did you have feelings for Sophia?” Eduardo asked.

“You know I didn’t. I didn’t even know her. I won’t insult either of us by pretending otherwise.”

“Then it was her name you needed? Not her?”

He couldn’t care less who he married so long as she could produce heirs and do a nice royal wave from a balcony. “You know that to be true.”

“Then I do have a bride for you.” Eduardo turned his dark eyes on Carlotta. “You can have Carlotta.”

Carlotta blinked hard and looked from Rodriguez back to her father. She was certain her ears couldn’t be working right, because she had thought she’d heard her father give her away. Like she was a thing. A parting gift for the visiting prince.

Are you shocked? He already believes you gave yourself away.

She shook the thought off and continued to stare at her father, letting the silence fill the room until it became oppressive.

Finally, Rodriguez laughed, a short, harsh sound. “A trade?”

“A way to keep our bargain, Prince Rodriguez.”

Carlotta shook her head, and she knew her eyes were probably comically large in her head. She closed her mouth. She hadn’t realized it had dropped open.

She’d been completely floored by her sister, sweet Sophia, running away from her arranged marriage to Rodriguez, especially as it was so important for Santina and Santa Christobel to forge an alliance. She’d been the first to warn her sister about the unflattering headlines. Princess Sophia Joins Mile-High Club.

But she hadn’t realized that she would get dragged into the whole debacle. And certainly not to this degree.

Rodriguez flicked her a dismissive glance. “I have no interest in taking a wife who nearly faints at the thought of becoming my bride. I’m certain I can find someone my mere presence does not offend. We have no deal, Eduardo.”

He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Carlotta alone with her father. It was a new kind of silence that filled the room now. One bursting with rage, combined with a kind of leaden disappointment that she could feel down in her soul, weighting her, climbing in her throat, threatening to strangle her.

She knew this feeling. Had felt it before. In this very room. In this very spot.

Nearly six years ago she’d been here. In her father’s office. Her knees locked, her feet glued to the carpet, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her entire body shaking, a cold sweat covering her back, her neck.

I’m pregnant.

They had been the two most terrifying words she’d ever spoken in her life. And directly after them had come the most sickening minute of silence she’d ever endured.

Until now.

“Father, I …”

“Carlotta, after all I have done for you,” he said, his voice thick with disappointment, “you cannot do this for me? For your country? You brought so much shame upon us, all of us. The people of Santina, your family.”

“I … I only came in to tell you that I have to return tonight.” She couldn’t deal with her father’s words. They hurt too badly. They rang too true. “Luca needs me and … and then you throw a prince at me! A marriage proposal. I don’t …” She swallowed, trying to suppress the panic that was starting to rise in her. “What do you expect of me?”

Her father looked down at his hands, folded in front of him on his neat, expansive desk. “I had hoped that you would understand how important this was. I had hoped you would understand your duty. After all our family has endured recently in the press, thanks to your brother. After the way they publicized your shame.”

Carlotta felt her face grow tense, needles of icy cold rage dotting her cheeks. Luca wasn’t her shame. And he never could be. Even if the press had been determined to make him so.

The Sole Santina Bastard. A favored headline at the time of Luca’s birth. She could only thank God they didn’t know the whole story. That they didn’t know the half of the sins she was capable of committing when she let the hold on her control loosen.

And Father is the only reason they don’t.

That brought the guilt. Right on time.

“I have always believed that you would do great things, Carlotta,” he said, his voice softer now. “This is your chance to prove me right.” He looked up at her, his dark eyes shining, and she felt her stomach tighten. “You are my most beloved daughter. I did everything in my power to protect you, to keep the press from finding out the details surrounding Luca’s birth. Is it so much to ask for this?”

She felt like she was choking, as if her throat was getting tighter with each word her father spoke. Yet another reason she avoided Santina. Her family. The obligations of being a princess. The horrible, crushing guilt.

Not for the first time, she felt like coming home had been a mistake. She didn’t know where she fit anymore. She’d been on the fringes of the glamorous engagement party, not entirely able to join in with her family. Not able to join in with her brother Alessandro’s new in-laws, the Jacksons, and their carefree, crass style of behavior. In a way she almost envied the Jacksons. They didn’t have to worry about how they were perceived. They didn’t seem to worry about anything.

Yes, but you do.

It was easier when she was in her home on the Amalfi Coast. When she was just Carlotta, Luca’s mum.

But that was a dream. A dream she’d escaped to when she’d been pregnant, alone and scared. Heartbroken. Hounded by the press.

She’d been weak then. But she could never have come out of it remaining weak. It was either grow a spine or melt into a puddle and die. And for Luca’s sake, melting had never been a viable option. She’d had to find inner strength, and she’d found it quickly.

Still, facing down her father brought back the girl she’d been. The one who had wanted to please him so badly. Who had only wanted to do right. With everything that was going on, Sophia’s very public fall from grace, Alex’s marriage … maybe it was her chance to grab a little redemption. To be the daughter her father seemed to believe she still could be.

“What is the precise nature of your agreement with … with Prince Rodriguez?” she asked, licking her suddenly dry lips.

“Anguiano needs an heir,” said Eduardo. “His father is dying. As good as dead. Incapacitated and in hospital. It’s time for Rodriguez to take the throne of Santa Christobel, and that means he needs a wife.”

“And what’s in it for us? For Santina. I mean, I understand it in a general sense. But if I’m actually going to … marry Prince Rodriguez, then I need to know exactly what we stand to gain.”

“Can you imagine it, Carlotta? What such an alliance could bring? Ease for educational programs between the nations. Trade. A valuable ally to stand with should conflict ever arise. All cemented by marriage. Children. It is unfathomable in its value.”

“Gems,” she said softly, a realization washing over her. “They have diamonds. Ruby mines too. A host of other natural resources.”

“It cannot be overlooked. They are a wealthy nation. And that makes them even more valuable. Sophia knew her duty. She has abandoned it. But I trust you, Carlotta. I trust that you will do what is right.”

What was right? She had tried to do what was right for most of her life. Barring one giant mistake, she always had. It had always been her goal. To be the kind of daughter her parents deserved and desired. She didn’t know if she could take it this far though.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pictured her house on the beach. The quiet. Her son running through the halls with his arms full of stuffed animals that had most definitely seen better days. Things were simpler there. She didn’t have to work so hard to be the Carlotta that she was expected to be. The one she feared deep inside she never truly could be.

But while she had left palace life behind, she hadn’t left her title. She hadn’t truly shed her duty.

That was bred into her. A part of her. Even if she tried to ignore it.

And then, there was her father. Who had never given up on her. Not even when she’d let him down, dragged the Santina name through the mud. Put them on par with the kind of tabloid fodder he despised.

For all the cruel words her family had bandied around about her older brother Alessandro’s future in-laws, the very same could be said about her. It had been said about her, in bold print, on newsstands all around Santina.

Scandalous. Immoral.

Her family, her father, had never thrown those words at her, but she knew it had been thought. How could they not think it? She had. Worse, she knew it was true. A lifetime of keeping her passionate, exuberant nature on a tight leash, and in one great fall from grace, all her efforts had been reduced to nothing. She had tainted her family name, had brought them ridicule, the disgust of a nation who saw her as a clear sign of the degeneration of the royal family.

The question was, how badly did she want redemption? Enough to marry a total stranger? The prince of a country she’d never been to? The man her sister had been engaged to, until she’d broken it by hooking up with Ash on his private plane.

She looked at her father. He had aged in the past few years. She hadn’t been around to see it. She wondered how much of it was her fault. How many lines on his face were from dealing with her transgressions.

It made her sick to think of it.

But she could be the one to fix things here. The one to save the day. To be the daughter her parents had imagined she would be. It was almost embarrassing that she wanted it so badly. That she cared so much. But she did. She needed to look at her father and see something other than disappointment in his eyes.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked.

Rodriguez reclined on the bed, his shoes consigned to the floor, along with his tie. His plane would be ready soon, and then he would be leaving Santina, and with it, the little melodrama that the Santinas seemed to be living.

He didn’t waste his time on this sort of thing. He lived. He didn’t regret. He didn’t worry. He didn’t think more than he had to. Not about anything beyond the here and now anyway.

There was a soft knock at the door and he wondered if it was a maid, then chuckled at where the thought took him. It really had been too long since he’d had sex. He’d been expecting to pick up a fiancée so he’d imagined his celibacy wouldn’t have lasted beyond tonight.

“Sì?”

The door opened, and it wasn’t a maid. It was Princess Carlotta Santina, still in her drab outfit, her lips pursed tight. She didn’t look like she was here to alleviate him of his celibacy either.

“I thought we might have a talk.” No, definitely not.

“Did you?”

She nodded, the setting sun filtering through the window shimmering over her straight, glossy bob. “I thought, since my father just tried to … use me as a stand-in for my sister, we might …”

“I’m actually done with that now.” He really wasn’t in the mood for whatever kind of rant she’d come to throw at him. Or was she here to apologize? The way she’d looked at her father, the way her shoulders had folded in, her hands clasped tight in front of her, almost like a shield. Like she feared him … she would come and apologize.

“I’m not,” she said, the slight steel in her tone surprising him.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. My father explained the situation to me more fully. I … I knew that you and Sophia were engaged, in a sense, but I did not know the specifics. I don’t live in Santina so I’m not really in on everything that goes on here and Sophia didn’t … she didn’t really say much of anything about you. I only got wind of how big of a deal it was when the story broke about Sophia being caught with Ash on the plane.”

“That’s because I’ve barely met the girl. No reason for her to talk about me.”

Carlotta cleared her throat. “Yes, well … the girl, is gone.”

“With the maharaja.”

He saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “Right. With Ash. Alex’s friend. And you still need a wife.”

“Need is a strong word.”

“Do you or don’t you?” she asked.

“Eventually.”

“How soon is this eventually you speak of?”

“Truthfully? The sooner, the better. This will be a time of transition for my people.” He thought of the responsibility, the weight of the crown. It was heavy on his shoulders. Already he’d moved back into the palace in Santa Christobel. He felt like it would choke him, being inside those four walls again. “Anything that can be done to ease their fears at this time would be welcome. Marriage, my marriage, would help with that.”

They wouldn’t be mourning his father, that was for sure. Carlos Anguiano was not much loved. And while Rodriguez had essentially been running Santa Christobel for the past several years, his father had remained the figurehead.

“It would mean a new start for my people. A fresh beginning,” he said.

“Well then, I guess I have good news for you.”

“What is that?”

“I haven’t run off with a maharaja, so … I happen to be available to marry you. At your earliest convenience.”

It was a rare moment that found Rodriguez Anguiano speechless.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“I’ll marry you.”

“What happened to the emphatic no from earlier?”

“I was shocked. In shock. I wasn’t prepared for something like that.”

“To be offered up as a replacement wife in your sister’s absence?” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing quickly.

“I wasn’t … exactly expecting that, no. I thought I’d come to the party, have a couple of drinks and go home. Wasn’t really anticipating acquiring a husband.”

“And yet you have changed your mind?” he asked, pacing in front of her, adrenaline surging through him, joining the unrest he’d already felt being contained in the walls of the castle in Santina. That he’d been feeling since he’d boarded his private plane, on his way to collect what could only be described as a ball and chain.

“We need this, don’t we? The marriage I …” He watched her throat convulse as she swallowed. “I have always known that I would face an arranged marriage of some kind.”

She spoke the truth. From the cradle they’d all known their marriages would likely be arranged by their parents. Because duty came first, the allegiance to the family name. To Santina. Alex had long been promised to Anna, a woman more than suitable to be the future queen of Santina. But that was before he’d gone rogue and set his sights on Allegra Jackson. And of course Sophia had been promised to Rodriguez. Natalia’s engagement was in the process of being arranged. She didn’t know about Matteo, but it was less urgent now that Alex was formally betrothed.

Before Carlotta had … Well, if not for Luca her father would have likely arranged a marriage for her years ago. As it was, she had been sort of taken out of the “dynastic union” running when she’d had her son.

Well, apparently not really out of the running. She was good enough to play second string. Good enough to marry the renowned rebel prince of Santa Christobel. A man who lived dangerously and loved often. Well, not loved. He made love often, according to the tabloids. A new woman on his arm every weekend to accompany him to Europe’s most exclusive parties. Fast cars, fast dates.

The kind of man who represented recklessness, lawlessness, total disregard for honor. A man who served his own passions. The kind of man she hated. The kind of man she was so easily drawn to.

“As have I,” Rodriguez said, his dark eyes unreadable, the little curve of his mouth still present, like it had been earlier. It was a kind of ever-present near-smile that made it look like he was mocking her. It made her stomach feel like it was being squeezed tight by an invisible fist.

She cleared her throat. “So, while I hadn’t really penciled a wedding into my day planner, it’s not a … it’s not a total surprise.”

What was her other option anyway?

Well, there was staying in Italy. That was a good thought. Hiding. But she didn’t know if it served any real purpose. The only person it really helped was her. It allowed her to lick her wounds in private. It allowed her to hide Luca from royal life. Something part of her wanted to do, but something she also knew wasn’t fair. He was a Santina. He was a royal. It was a part of him, and it didn’t do him any good to force him to deny that part of himself. No matter how much simpler it would be to just raise him as an ordinary little boy. Who wasn’t tabloid fodder. It wasn’t reality.

“I don’t suppose you really had other life plans either,” she said.

“I don’t plan. I live.”

“Well … I suppose that means you don’t have a woman back home you’re dying to see. Someone you’d prefer to marry.”

“I’ll be honest with you, Carlotta, I prefer not to marry. But I need an heir. One that isn’t a bastard.”

She flinched when he spoke the word. She hated that word. One used to label an innocent child, to make them suffer for the perceived sins of his parents. Did Rodriguez know about Luca? He had to know. So, he’d chosen the words to wound her.

“Why?” she said. “Do you have many? Children, I mean.”

“Me? No. I always use protection.” Such a throwaway statement. Spoken like a man who never thought about anyone but himself.

She gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t always work.”

“True. But in the event that a pregnancy had resulted, you can bet the woman involved would have told me. I’m rich. Titled. She would have wanted her piece.”

“You would have owed her a piece,” she said. “At minimum.”

“I’m not arguing that. My point is that, whether I want marriage or not, I need it.”

“Preferably to me.”

He looked at her, his dark gaze dismissive. “Because of connection to this family.”

“I didn’t seek to imply otherwise. It’s the only reason I would marry you.”

“Because your father told you to. That’s the reason.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “He has good reasons.”

“Fine. But you’re still doing it because he asked you to.”

“And your father has nothing to do with any of this?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, the light in his eyes turning black, deadly. “My father can hardly lift his hand anymore. He is weak. What I do, I do for my country.”

“Same goes for me. But my family is Santina.”

“Thank goodness mine is not Santa Christobel. Santa Christobel is better than the Anguiano legacy has been thus far. But I intend to do better.”

“And I intend to … be a part of it.” It was strange, lobbying for something she wasn’t certain she wanted. But she needed it. Everything else aside, her father was right. She had made mistakes that had cost the family. And he had covered for her. Had done everything in his power to keep her from being utterly humiliated and exposed.

In the scope of things, this wasn’t so very much to ask.

“Does it get boring?”

“What?” she asked, trying to ignore the glint of humor in his dark eyes. It made him seem … attractive. Well, he was attractive, glint or no, with his golden skin and dark hair that was much too long to be considered respectable for a man of his station. Chiseled jaw, a body that looked as though it would be hard like iron. It wouldn’t be impersonal or cold like metal, though. No, he would be hot….

She blinked, trying to reroute her thoughts. She didn’t do the man thing. Not anymore. Just acknowledging the speed and ease with which he aroused her was … horrifying. Even more horrifying was the strength of it. Why was it so hard to be good? To be the woman she was supposed to be?

“Being this noble, does it get boring?”

“Yes. It does. Which is why I practice it in small doses.” And throw it off altogether sometimes …

“Good to know that not even you are always respectable.”

“Not even close.” But she tried. She’d tried all her life. To ignore the fire that seemed to burn so close to the surface of her skin. To be the demure princess she was expected to be. It had been a battle all her life. One she’d lost completely when she’d met Luca’s father. A lifetime of practiced restraint reduced to nothing in just a few short weeks.

He inclined his head. “All right then, Princess Carlotta, you have yourself a marriage bargain. My plane leaves Santina late tonight and I intend to take my future wife with me.”

“I … I can’t leave from here. I can’t leave tonight.” Luca was still in Italy, with his nanny. So were all of her things. Her real things, not her princess trappings.

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t live here at the palace. I don’t even live on the island. I live in Italy. My home is there, my … everything.” She didn’t know what stopped her from saying something about Luca. Maybe because he hadn’t mentioned him. The whole thing seemed so mercenary. So cold. Adding him to it … it just seemed wrong.

“Fine. We’ll stop in Italy on our way to Santa Christobel.”

Oh, yes, and pick up her five-year-old with Mr. Tall, Dark, Sexy and Imposing standing in the doorway with that mocking grin of his. No thank you.

“I can make my own way to Santa Christobel,” she said archly. “I need time to prepare.”

“Have a lover you need to cast off before we get married?”

She nearly snorted. She’d lived the past few years completely abstinent after only one, near emotionally fatal affair. “Oh, yes, a stable of them. You?”

“I don’t intend to cast anyone off.”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t intend to cast off any lovers just because I’m getting married.”

Her stomach twisted. Men. They really were all the same. Cheating, lying jerks who only cared about pleasing their sex drives. “I hope you don’t think you’ll be in my bed then. I don’t share.”

A slow smile spread over his handsome face, teeth bright white against his tan skin. “I do.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t ask for what I don’t give.”

“Fidelity?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I ask for fidelity.” I’ve never gotten it, but I’d like it. “And if you’re going to be in my bed, you won’t be in anyone else’s.” She couldn’t believe she was even talking about beds and sex with a man she’d only just meant.

It was making her face hot, and not, she suspected, from embarrassment. From that nearly six years of celibacy maybe. From the thought of a man’s hands, his hands, on her skin again. Kissing. Caressing.

She shifted and tried to ease the knot in her stomach with a deep breath. That was one part of marriage that wouldn’t be so bad.

Unless he’s actively sleeping with other women the whole time.

Yeah, that was a definite no-go for her. And anyway, contemplating sleeping with him was … he was a stranger and it was bad with a capital B.

“We will discuss this no more. Not now.”

She raised her brow. “Excuse me?”

“It is immaterial. Fine details you and I will work out later. For now, the real question is, will you marry me?”

He didn’t get down on one knee or anything, thank goodness, because that would have been just too much. He stood in front of her, arms crossed over his broad chest, a knowing smile curving his lips. He exuded confidence. Charm. That kind of cocky, arrogant sexiness that said he knew just what he could make a woman feel.

He wasn’t the first man she’d met who exuded those things.

He took a step toward her, his dark eyes trained on hers, and for a moment, it felt like the world had closed in on them. So that it was just the two of them.

Rodriguez didn’t touch her, he didn’t even make a move to touch her, and yet she felt like he had. Could feel the warmth coming from his hard body and she wasn’t afraid of him putting his hands on her, she was wishing he would. Aching for it.

“A simple question, a simple answer,” he said. “Yes or no?”

She met his dark gaze, her heart hopping in her chest like a caged bird making a bid for freedom. She opened her mouth to speak but her throat was dry. She swallowed, trying to find her balance, her confidence.

Trying to find the woman that knew all about men like him, who knew that charm was nothing more than smoke and mirrors; that sex, no matter how fulfilling or meaningful she might find it, was nothing more than a little bit of amusement for men like him, and that they would leave the woman to pick up the check. A week’s worth of fun for them, could mean a lifetime of payment for the woman involved.

It had for her.

And she would never be that stupid again. She would never again buy into the kind of sweet lies that could be issued from wicked, sexy mouths like his. Not even if she was married to the charmer.

Married. Was she really going to marry him? Could she really go back to her father and tell him she’d decided not to?

“Yes,” she said, the word weak, breathless. She cleared her throat. She didn’t do weak and breathless. Not anymore. She’d made the decision, she would stand strong in it. “Yes, I will marry you.”




CHAPTER TWO


HE WAS a small boy. He barely came to the top of Carlotta’s hip. Dark hair, the same green eyes as his mother.

His mother. Carlotta.

Dios.

He knew it, the moment he saw her bend and help the little boy from the back of the limo when they’d pulled up to the palace, knew from the moment he saw the boy’s face. That same sullen expression, the stubborn chin, he was hers.

He had inherited a child, along with a fiancée.

Part of him knew it shouldn’t matter. That it didn’t truly change anything. He and Carlotta had been planning on having children. He needed an heir after all. That he would be a father one day was, and had always been, a given.

Another part of him felt a kind of bone-deep terror that had been absent from him since he was a boy himself. He remembered that day, the day when his emotions had finally given beneath the strain of living a life beneath his father’s iron fist. The day his emotions had deserted him entirely.

Well, that fear he’d thought long gone was here now. Because of the boy. Reflected in the boy. He was afraid, his eyes wide on the castle in front of him. It couldn’t be his first time seeing a palace. His grandmother and grandfather were the rulers of Santina. He was a Santina.

Carlotta looked at him, her green eyes hard. “Hello.”

“Hola,” he said.

“Hi.” This from the boy.

Rodriguez looked down at him, swallowing, trying to bring some moisture to his suddenly dry throat. It seemed like the right thing to introduce himself to the boy. Did you introduce yourself formally to a child?

Annoyance mixed with uncertainty. Carlotta had managed to catch him off guard twice now. They were the only two times it had happened in his recent memory. This wasn’t a trend he liked.

He would just approach the chiild as he would an adult. “I am Prince Rodriguez Anguiano. What is your name?” That earned him little more than a wide-eyed stare from those green eyes.

“Luca,” said Carlotta. “His name is Luca.”

That she answered annoyed him, like she didn’t want her son speaking to him. It also made him feel a small measure of relief. Because it spared him from having to talk directly to Luca.

“Come with me,” he said, turning and heading to the palace.

He nearly laughed. He had been pretending that marrying Carlotta rather than Sophia changed nothing. And had been managing quite well. But now there was this … complication.

This was a difference that would be hard to ignore.

The massive doors to the palace opened and he ushered them in to the cavernous entryway. All glossy marble with a domed ceiling depicting intricate scenes of men and angels. Not to his taste at all. He’d never felt at home here. There was a reason he’d spent his young adult years in France and Spain, a reason he had his own penthouse in Barcelona still, even though his time avoiding Santa Christobel was over.

But now that his father was in the hospital, now that running the country was up to him, he’d had no choice but to come back. Even though it made him feel like he’d crawled into someone else’s skin. Ill-fitting. Uncomfortable. Nearly unbearable.

Now, another role he wasn’t made for. Husband. Father.

“There is no … no room prepared for Luca,” he said, careful not to look down at the top of the boy’s dark head.

“What?” she asked, finely arched brows locking together.

He gritted his teeth against rising annoyance. “Had you told me there would be a need …”

“You didn’t know?” She shot a look to Luca, then back to him, her eyes round with shock. “How did you not know?”

Luca was watching both of them, confusion in his eyes. That was something he remembered well about being a child. That lack of control. Knowing that your fate was in the hands of the adults around you. How little sense it made sometimes.

His stomach tightened, and he looked down at the boy again. “Luca, perhaps you would like to come out to the garden?”

The garden. Such as it was. It was a massive, sprawling green field in comparison to most lawns. But it was likely to keep a child busy. At least, he thought it would.

Luca nodded. “I like to play outside. Do you have a slide?”

Rodriguez looked at Carlotta, then back at Luca, a strange sensation—nerves?—making it hard to breathe. “No. No slides. But we could put one in.” Put one in? Like they were staying?

Of course they were staying. He’d signed a new marriage contract with King Eduardo before leaving Santina. But he hadn’t known about the child. About Luca. He’d known that he and Carlotta would have an heir … but an heir was … It sounded very detached. Unreal. The little boy with serious green eyes was real.

Too real.

“You don’t have to put a slide in,” said Carlotta. “Well, not today. Eventually I guess it might … Luca, let’s go outside.” She held out her hand and Luca wrapped his small fingers around hers. She looked at Rodriguez and he nodded, leading her through the entryway and down the main corridor that led out to the back terrace.

They stepped outside into the warm evening, the heat of the day long past, the setting sun casting electric orange stripes over the vivid green lawn.

“There isn’t a pond or anything is there?” she asked, eyeing the fenced-in area.

“No. It’s safe for him. This part here is just grass.”

“Go, run,” she said.

Luca smiled at Carlotta and trotted off the terrace, and Carlotta watched him, a soft expression on her face.

“The plane ride was long,” she said. “He really needed to get out and move.”

“I can imagine.” He’d learned not to fidget from a very early age. It had stayed with him into adulthood. Sometimes, even now, if he was in a meeting and he found himself fidgeting, he could still imagine that the sharp crack of a ruler on his shins might come next.

“How did you not know?” she asked.

“About Luca? How was I supposed to know?”

“It was … The press, they … He’s the only illegitimate Santina. The headlines were not kind.”

“I don’t read tabloids.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Not even when they’re talking about you?”

“Especially not then,” he said.

“How do you… I mean, how can you not? I had to … I had to know what they were saying.” She looked away from him, her eyes on Luca, who was now turning circles in the middle of the large expanse of grass. “I suppose, looking back, it wasn’t the healthiest thing for a hormonal, pregnant woman to do. But I just felt like I needed to know.”

“I don’t care what they’re saying. Anyway, what they write about me is simply a rundown of my weekend’s events. If I want a recap, I’ll look at the pictures I took.”

She turned her head sharply, her eyes wide. “Pictures?”

“Oh, so you’ve read about me then,” he said.

“I said I read tabloids. Anyway, who hasn’t read about you?”

“Probably a few priests who are trying to deny the existence of evil in the world, but we aren’t supposed to be talking about me right now. I didn’t know you had a son.”

“Does it change anything?”

Did it? He’d never planned on being very involved with his wife and children. He just … he couldn’t think of a single thing he could add to their lives. They would serve their purpose, likely better without his interference. He knew nothing about family. The only thing he knew about children was what not to do with them.

That was something, he supposed.

“I don’t know that it does,” he said. “Is his father in the picture?”

“Luca doesn’t have a father.” Carlotta felt her cheeks get hot as Rodriguez fixed her with a hard stare. “Well … obviously he has a father,” she said. “But he doesn’t have an involved father.”

“Messy breakup?” he asked.

It suddenly seemed a bit harder to breathe. “You could say that.” It would be an understatement, but she wasn’t in the mood to elaborate.

“So I’m not going to get tangled up in any sort of custody thing?”

“Absolutely not. Is that your only concern?”

“I don’t see anything else that should concern me.”

“You don’t see how having a son concerns you?”

His eyebrows locked together. “He’s not my son.”

Carlotta’s heart twisted tight. It was a fair enough statement. Luca wasn’t Rodriguez’s son. And they’d been at his home for all of fifteen minutes. He wasn’t being cruel. Still, it felt a little cruel. “No, I know. But he is a child, and if you’re going to be my husband he will be your stepson, and that means some of the responsibility …”

“He has a nanny?”

“Yes. She had to stay behind for a couple of days but …”

“In that case, I see my responsibility will be limited.”

Anger burned in her, threatening to swallow her whole. “And will it be the same for your children? Because if not, you and I have no more to say to each other. Luca is my son. He’s my world and if you—”

“Yes. It will be the same for our child. I don’t intend to have any more than is required.”

“If we have a girl?”

“Then we will have to have more, I suppose.”

“I don’t … I don’t even know how to have this discussion with you,” she said, panic clawing at her stomach. How could she stand here talking children with this stranger? Was she really going to marry this man?

Yes. Because the other option was going back to her father, standing in that spot in his office and telling him, yet again, how badly she’d failed the Santina family. She couldn’t do it. The guilt would consume her. She lived with enough guilt. No sense in adding to it.

But one thing she had to be sure of. For Luca. And if Rodriguez couldn’t handle it, she would walk away, no matter how disappointed her father was. No matter how much compound interest in guilt it earned her.

“Will you adopt him?”

Rodriguez stiffened, his posture totally rigid. “What?”

“Will you adopt Luca? Give him your name. The same name I will have. The same name his halfbrother or -sister will have. Will you make him a part of this family? Because if not, I’ll walk away now.”

A muscle in Rodriguez’s jaw twitched. “I cannot name him as my heir.”

“I don’t expect you to. But I cannot have him be alone in that way.” Just the thought of it made her throat ache, made it get unbearably tight. “I need him to know that he has a father. That he isn’t the only one who isn’t a part of a family.”

“Having a father can be vastly overrated,” Rodriguez said, his voice rough.

“Give him your name. Your protection. And I will marry you. Be your wife in every sense. But you have to make my son yours, as much as your other children.”

She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes fixed on Luca. “Then I will adopt him after the marriage. All of this can be simple enough. We marry, we produce an heir. We lead separate lives.”

“Why?”

He looked past her, at Luca, who was now lying on his back looking at the sky. Then he looked back at her. “Because I’m not after a perfect, happy family. I want to do what is right by my country. What is necessary.”

“The way that disrupts your life the least?”

“And yours, Carlotta. You can keep living as you please here. You’ll have very little obligation to me. This marriage will be like a job you can clock in and out of. On for public appearances, off when it’s done.”

“So, I get lovers too, then?”

He shrugged. “What’s good for the goose.”

“Just not while we’re—”

“Mommy!”

She turned sharply and saw Luca, standing right at the edge of the terrace. He had a way of darting from place to place with no warning, her son. It had never really been a problem before.

“Yes, Luca?”

“I’m bored.”

“And tired I’ll bet,” she said.

“No.” He shook his head for emphasis, the serious expression on his face reminding her of her brother Alessandro. She was so thankful that he seemed to have none of his father in him.

“Yeah, I don’t believe that, figlio mio, but nice try,” she said, running her fingers through his dark hair, ruffling it.

“There is a room next to yours,” Rodriguez said, his manner suddenly awkward. Luca did seem to make him nervous and she wasn’t really sure why. “He can stay in there.”

“Good. If we could have his things brought in, that would be great.”

Rodriguez nodded curtly. “After he’s in bed, perhaps you and I can have dinner.”

Carlotta wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She liked having Luca as a buffer. It was much more comfortable.

Ironic that you feel the need for a buffer since you’re planning on having a baby with the man. No buffers then.

That thought had her hot all over. Well, not so much the pregnancy and childbirth aspect of it. She’d hated being pregnant. Every moment of it. It had all been sickness and sadness. A little bit of denial. Only when Luca was placed in her arms had everything truly come together. And from that moment, she’d been lost. Everything that had come before it—the pain, physical and emotional—had paled in comparison to the love that had flooded through her when she’d seen her son for the first time.

She’d already done it once without a man in the picture.

“Great. We can talk more then,” she said, wondering if any amount of talking would ever make the situation seem normal.

After spending a couple of hours getting Luca settled and conked out in his new room, Carlotta went back to her room and selected a nice dress from her collection of, admittedly, out-of-date clothing.

Clothes just didn’t matter when you hardly ever went anywhere and certainly never went on dates. As Queen of Santa Christobel she would need new clothing….

Oh. Madre di dio. She was going to be the Queen of Santa Christobel. She had sort of been stuck on being Rodriguez’s wife. On what it would mean to marry him and share his bed, and have his baby, and uproot her son from his home in Italy. She hadn’t even gotten to the queen bit.

She tugged the dress off the hanger and sat on the bed in nothing but her bra and panties, the plush, silken comforter billowing around her, enveloping her. She clutched the rust-colored dress to her chest and breathed in deeply, trying to stop the room from spinning.

This was not her life.

And what is? Self-imposed exile in Italy? Living it up, aren’t you, Carlotta?

She had known she’d have to get back into the swing of things eventually. Start living life beyond the four walls of her home. She hadn’t really intended on doing it in such a grand way.

Life had seemed … still, for the past five years. No, not still. Because Luca always changed. Every day there was something new and exciting for him, and she lived it, loved it. Loved him. But for her … there had been nothing. It had been like being wrapped in a cocoon. Now she was torn from it, and she doubted she’d had any grand transformation.

She didn’t know if she was ready for this. And she didn’t really have anyone to talk to. Normally she would call Sophia but since she was currently shacked up with Ash in India and Carlotta was now engaged to the man she’d been intended to marry …

Well, she deserved to be dragged into it, all things considered.

Carlotta took her phone out of her purse and tapped the icon on the screen for text messaging. She’d sent Sophia a blistering message when she’d found out she’d run off with Ash. Now, well, she couldn’t really blame her younger sister. This was … it was overwhelming. Maybe if Ash had been standing by with a private plane she would have run off with him too. Though she wouldn’t have hopped into bed with him.

Hope you’re having a blast in India. BTW, I’m marrying the fiancé you ditched. Good choice, he’s an ass.

She hit Send on the message, then tapped the screen again, a smile curving her lips. She hit the New Message icon.

He’s also a total stud. So that’s some consolation.

This time when she hit Send, her smile was smug. She hoped Sophia was happy, whatever she was doing. Well, she had a fair idea of what her sister was doing, since she’d been caught in Ash’s bed on his private plane.

Sophia was the one person who didn’t seem completely ashamed of her and Luca. But while she wished her sister a lifetime of happiness, and if that included a torrid affair with Ash, fine with her, she deserved a little goading, all things considered.

Her phone pinged and she picked it back up. New message from Sophia.

At least our father will be pleased to have both of us marrying fellow royals.

Married? She’d just thought Sophia was sleeping with him. Well, then things really had worked out in her father’s favor. One daughter to a maharaja, the other, the one who’d been mired in total disgrace, married off to a prince.

She typed in another quick message. Congrats, Soph. Love ya.

She snorted and tossed the phone onto the bed. Yes, this was all working out great for Eduardo Santina. Hopefully it would work out even half as well for her.

There was a sharp knock on her door and she scrambled from the bed, stepping into the dress and contorting her arm so that she could tug the zipper up. “Just a second.”

She got it midway up, then reached over her shoulder and grabbed it from above, tugging it up the rest of the way. She looked in the mirror and pulled on the neckline, trying to make sure everything was in its proper place. Her figure was a bit fuller since her pregnancy and sometimes she wasn’t quite sure what to make of her new curves.

Not that they were pin-up worthy or anything. But at least she could fill out the top of her dress now, with a little cleavage.

She wondered what Rodriguez would think. If he would check her out. That made her cheeks feel hot. She tried to find some hold on her control, tried to keep in command of her body’s reaction.

This is what happens when you give in. When you’re weak.

That was what her father had shouted at her the day she’d told him she was pregnant. The day she’d told him who the father of her baby was through heartbroken sobs. It was so easy to feel the shame, the sick, crawling feeling of dirt on her skin, as she confessed the truth about Gabriel.

She was determined never to be weak again.

“Ready,” she said, turning away from her reflection, redirecting her thoughts.

The door swung open and Rodriguez was there, leaning against the frame. He didn’t look last season, not even close.

His crisp, white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a wedge of golden brown skin and just a little bit of dark chest hair. His dark hair was disheveled. He looked like a man who’d just come from his lover’s bed.

She wrinkled her nose. She’d been upstairs for a couple of hours, it was entirely possible that he’d …

“So, how was your evening?” she asked, stepping past him, out into the corridor.

“Fine. I had some work to see to.”

“Great.”

“You?”

“Luca seems settled in. I don’t know if he really understands that we’re staying here. But then, I guess that makes two of us.”

“Three,” he said, walking ahead of her, taking the stairs two at a time. She followed as quickly as her kitten heels would allow.

“You don’t feel at home here?”

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at the painted ceiling. “I never have.”

“You could … redecorate.”

A short laugh escaped his lips and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks. “That’s almost like suggesting I paint over the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling. I mean, not quite, but as far as Santa Christobel and our history is concerned, it is.”

“Well, that would be a bad idea then.”

“Very likely.”

He paused and turned to her, placing his hand on her lower back. She felt the heat of his touch blaze through her, like fire had ignited in her bloodstream, moving through her like a reckless spark on dry tinder.

Was she so desperate for a man’s touch that such a simple thing could turn her on so quickly? Well, clearly she was. A man she didn’t even know, a man she wasn’t sure she liked. She truly was no better now than she’d been six years ago. It was still there, that reckless passion. The one she’d worked so hard to shove down deep, to lock away forever. It was a sobering, gutting realization.

“This way,” he said, unaware of the turmoil his hand on her back had caused.

She kept her shoulders straight, tried to keep it so his hand only touched the fabric of her dress and didn’t press it down so that it came into contact with her back again. Because that had been far too disturbing.

The dining room was as opulent and formal as the rest of the house, the sprawling ceiling mural continuing through, with scenes of a massive feast painted just above the long, expansive table.

“Cozy,” she said.

That earned a laugh from Rodriguez. “Isn’t it? Perfect for an intimate dinner for two. Plus twenty.”

“The palace in Santina is a bit like that. It’s daunting. Luca … he’s not used to this.”

“Why did you take him away from Santina?”

“The press,” she said, her voice soft.

He pulled a chair out for her and she sat, touching the golden fork that was set beside an ornate dinner plate.

“It was bad for you?” Rodriguez took his seat opposite her.

She looked nice tonight, pretty even. She dressed too plainly for his taste, her hair too well ordered and smooth for his liking. But she was attractive, more than he’d given her credit for the first time he’d seen her.

She looked up, her green eyes hard. “I have the only illegitimate child in the entire Santina family. Going back generations.”

An incredulous laugh escaped him. “That anyone has ever owned up to. Do you honestly think there haven’t been others?”

“My father said …”

“I’m sure there are descendants of Santina bastards all over Europe. It’s the nature of things.”

She gritted her teeth, her eyes suddenly bright with rage. “My son is not a bastard.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Pick your words a bit more carefully then.”

She had teeth. And claws. Neither of which he’d seen in the interaction with her father. However, when it came to the boy, she was fierce. Good. It would make her a good mother for his heir. Protective. Strong. Something that had certainly been lacking in his life.

She would be a good queen too. While he found her a bit plain, it would suit her position. She had that regal quality to her. He preferred a sex-on-legs quality when it came to his bed partners, but a wife needed something else entirely. And Carlotta had that something else.

He hadn’t fully appreciated it until that moment.

“Noted, princesa.”

“Anyway,” she said, looking back down at her empty plate. “That’s why I’ve been in Italy. It’s simpler there. I came back for the engagement party. A chance to see someone else mess up.”

“You think your brother is making a mistake?”

“In my father’s eyes he is. It’s petty. But … I don’t like being the bad one.”

“I’ve never minded bad girls.” He watched her eyes round with shock, and he also saw a spark of interest flash in those green depths. Perhaps his bride-to-be wasn’t quite as plain as he had imagined.

Maybe there was more beneath that prim and proper exterior.

It was certainly a fascinating thought. One that caused a flash fire of arousal to roar through his blood. Six months without sex. Dios, that was a long time. The longest he’d gone since he was sixteen and he’d found out that life came with some very lush and interesting perks.

Women were just another of the many reasons he didn’t mourn the loss of his childhood. Giving women pleasure, taking his pleasure with them, had provided him with moments of total release. Oblivion. He had always treasured those moments.

“No, you haven’t, according to your tabloid reputation,” she said. “Which reminds me, and I’m sorry to bring it up just before dinner, do you have a clean bill of health? I mean, have you had a recent physical? Because from what I’ve read, you’ve been around.”

“Not wrong of you to bring it up,” he said, ignoring the unfamiliar prickle of shame. “Being safe is important. And I always am. And it so happens, I have a doctor’s report for you.”

“I … That’s more than I expected.”

“It’s reality. I’ve never denied living a certain lifestyle, but I’m careful, and I make sure to protect my lovers. As I will make sure to protect you.”

Carlotta felt her body getting hot again. She felt the need to remind herself that she’d done the swept-off-her-feet-and-into-bed-with-a-stranger thing before. And while it had been a glowing, heady few weeks, it had been a cold and stark reality when she’d woken up to the truth about the man she’d given her virginity to. The man who’d left her pregnant and alone.

Well, whether he’d left or not, she would have kicked him to the curb once she learned the truth. He’d just saved her the trouble. And the truth had kept her from tracking him down.

A little sliver of flame wound its way through her body as she studied Rodriguez. She took a deep breath, hoping that might help extinguish it. That she would be able to maintain control over herself.

It was proving to be more difficult than it should.

“And how will you be certain of your health if you’re … if you’re taking other lovers?” She swallowed. “Don’t make a fool of me. If you sleep around, I want to know. Don’t ever lie to me.”

She supposed in a way, she would deserve a cheating husband. Poetic justice in many ways. She would be the one at home with the children, wondering how her husband’s business trip was going while he was really wining, dining and bedding another woman.

She nearly gagged.

“Just don’t lie,” she said again. That was the part she couldn’t stand. The lies. Being manipulated into believing a man was someone he wasn’t. Falling in love with the facade.

He looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “You want to know about the other women?”

“I will not be treated like I’m stupid.” Even if she was. Even if she had been terminally stupid in the man department at one time. She never would be again.

“I will give you my honesty. What you choose to do with it is up to you, but I will never lie to you. If you want the truth, you can have it.”

It would probably be easier to just take her charming husband into her bed when he was home, and ignore him when he wasn’t. But she wouldn’t live that way. She wouldn’t be that woman.

“I do.”

“I will have the same, princesa.”

“Of course. And fidelity while we are trying to conceive is non-negotiable. You are not having me and a harem at the same time.”

“You are not quite what I expected.” He leaned back in his chair and appraised her, his gaze open, honest as he said he’d be. He didn’t bother disguising the fact that he was assessing her. Didn’t bother to hide it when his eyes dropped to her breasts.

And she couldn’t suppress the mild bit of satisfaction she took in him checking her out.

“Well, of course I’m not,” she said, trying to ignore the little of prickle of heat that was starting at her scalp and migrating down. “You were expecting to marry my sister. We’re not even remotely similar. She’s shorter for one thing.”

“And quieter, if I remember right. Though I don’t know that I ever engaged her in conversation.”

“You’re hardly marrying for the conversation though, are you?”

“You’re more engaging than I imagined you to be, it might actually have just moved up on my list of desirable qualities in a wife.”

“Good thing, because you appear to be stuck with me.”

“And you like making … conversation?”

“I’m a little bit out of practice making any kind of conversation that doesn’t involve the physical ailments of stuffed animals, or require me to refer to myself as Mama.”

She noticed a little bit of tension in his brow, the lines of his handsome face tightening. For all his carefree manner, there was more to Rodriguez than he showed the world. Although she wasn’t sure if it was better than what he did show.

“So,” she said, clearing her throat and tapping the dinner plate with her fork. “Are we … eating?”

As if on cue a man came in carrying a tray with two plates on it, which he set on top of the fine china in front of Rodriguez and in front of her.

“Paella del mar,” he said. “I hope you like shellfish.”

“It would be sacrilege if I didn’t. Santina is a part of the sea. It’s the life force of the country.”

“As it is here in Santa Christobel. That, at least, should be similar to your home.”

She looked down at the rice and pushed the shell of a muscle with the tip of her fork. “Santina hasn’t been my home for a long time. How will your people feel about this?”

“About what?”

“You marrying a woman who has a child. Clearly, I’m not your standard-issue virgin princess.”

“I doubt my people are under the illusion I have any desire for a virgin princess. I’m certainly not a virgin, neither do I pretend to be one.”

For some reason, his immediate dismissal of the idea gave her a strange rush of pleasure. She shouldn’t care whether he approved of her or not, and yet, for some reason, it satisfied her to know that he hadn’t really expected, or cared, if his bride were pure as the driven snow.

“What you desire, and what’s expected, are two very different things.”

“I assume you’re an expert?”

“I can claim a bit of experience in the area, yes,” she said. She really didn’t want the conversation to go in that direction. Someday, maybe. But not now. She was fairly certain her brothers didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding Luca’s birth. She wasn’t really eager to spread it around. “I’m just not certain what your people will make of you taking a single mother as your bride.”

“I didn’t ask them,” he said simply, taking a bite of paella.

“That simple?”

“I am to be their king.”

“But there are appearances to worry about and … appearances.” Appearance was of the upmost importance to her father. Her mother and father conducted themselves with an old-world grace. They maintained an aristocratic distance from their people, and from the press, that was rare in the modern era. At least, they had. Until she had shattered some of that respectability with a very high-profile, undeniable mistake.

She knew her father might have forgiven her for her mistakes, but he’d never forgotten them. She’d never forgiven herself for it. And here Rodriguez was talking as though appearances didn’t matter?

“Do you honestly think I care about the way the media sees me? The way the people see me? I have done well for them, and while my father has been fading from this world I have already been seeing to the duties of the king. I will continue to do well for them, to make the country prosper. I will marry and I will continue the line. No more can be asked of me.”

“Just because you … said so?”

“Yes, just because I said so.”

“And you’ll adopt Luca.”

“I will give him my name, as I said I would. I keep my word, princesa.”

“I don’t have a great track record with men and their word,” she said, regretting the words as soon as she spoke them.

“On this you can trust me, Carlotta,” he said, his voice low, sincere, the mocking edge to his lips gone. “I don’t play with people. Power is one of those things that can make a man feel invincible. It can make him feel as though he’s entitled to harm those he sees as beneath him. I am everything that the press says I am. The stories are all true. So yes, I have some sins to my credit. But I don’t hurt people. I don’t lie.”

Carlotta looked at him, at his dark eyes, and she felt her heart rate speed up. “I believe you.”




CHAPTER THREE


“MY JEWELER will be arriving later.”

Carlotta looked up from the drawing Luca had just handed her and nearly choked as she watched Rodriguez walk into the playroom. The staff had spent the afternoon furnishing and arranging everything. Now Luca was fully equipped with a new bed for his room, a small table and chairs, where he was currently sitting, coloring, and a matching, hand-carved toy box for his most prized possessions. Although his favorite stuffed owls held pride of place on a shelf by his bed.

“What jeweler? What for?” she asked, the answer landing about the time the words left her mouth.

“For your ring.”

She looked back down at the paper. “Right.”

Luca turned in his chair. “Hi.”

Rodriguez attempted a smile, his jaw tightening. “Hi, Luca.”

“Why do I need to see the jeweler?”

He lifted one dark brow, his focus shifting back to her. “So you can choose the ring.”

“Well, I don’t see why I really need to choose it.”

“Do you have a crown?” Luca asked, his green eyes still fixed on Rodriguez.

Rodriguez looked back at Luca, a flash of discomfort crossing his handsome face. “There is a crown. One that has been in the Anguiano family for a long time. But I don’t wear it.”

“I would,” Luca said, turning back to his drawing.

Rodriguez’s brows locked together. “What were you saying?” he asked, his dark eyes not leaving Luca.

“I don’t see why I need to choose the ring.” Carlotta bent and set the picture down on the table, then straightened. “I mean, it’s a ring.”

“Your engagement and wedding ring.”

“Yes, but it isn’t as though …” She looked down at Luca and frowned. “Luca, I’m going to go talk to Rodriguez for a moment.”

Luca looked up. “But I’m going to color.”

“That’s fine, just stay at the table. Color on the paper only. Out here.” She stepped out into the corridor and Rodriguez followed, pulling the door mostly closed behind him.

“You don’t seem to be distracted by Luca’s interjections,” he said.

“He’s a kid. He does that.”

“I would not have been permitted to do that.”

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “And you don’t think he should be allowed to?”

“There is very little from my childhood I would use as a model when raising a son. I don’t mind his comments. I’m just not used to it.”

“Oh.” She relaxed her stance. “I was saying it’s not like our marriage has a whole lot of significance. You intend to do as you please. It isn’t as though the ring will have any real value to me.”

“You’ll want it to match your style, sì?” he asked.

“I suppose but …”

He frowned, his forehead creasing. “Why aren’t you pleased?”

“Pleased?”

“You get to look at diamonds and pick your favorite. Women like that.”

She shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of diamonds.” Jewelry didn’t mean anything. It was money, money could buy a lot of things. Jewels sent to her at birthdays and holidays while her family stayed hundreds of miles away, that didn’t do a lot to offer comfort.

“And you do not want … more?”

“Does it bother you?” she asked.

“I thought this would please you,” he said, his tone exasperated.

“I didn’t say I was displeased, Rodriguez. I just … I didn’t know you were going to the trouble of having a jeweler come with a display for me to peruse. I wasn’t expecting it. Neither do I require it.”

“Let me give you something,” he said. The tone in his voice changed, there was something different there, something dark. She didn’t truly understand it, but in some ways, she doubted if he did either.

“I’ll choose a ring. But you are already giving me something. You’re giving Luca your name. It … it means a lot to me. The Santina name has been nothing more than a curse to him in so many ways. Because him bearing my last name marks him. No matter how much I wish it didn’t,” she whispered the last words, the pain strangling her. Whenever she thought of what she’d done to her son, to his life, with her bad decisions, it made her feel like she was bathing in the shame of it all over again. In the agony.

He deserved a mother who made better choices. Her mother and father deserved a daughter who made better choices. At least in this marriage to Rodriguez, she had a small shot at redemption.

Not just for herself. For Luca. For him, bearing the Anguiano name would erase so much stigma from his life. In time, people might forget. He might stop being punished for her sins.

That alone made the marriage worth it.

“I don’t know if my family name will serve him any better,” Rodriguez said.

“It will.”

Their eyes met and Carlotta felt the impact like a punch to her stomach, making her breath shallow, her entire body tense. There was something about him, something beyond the masculine beauty of his face, the perfectly square jaw, the dark, compelling eyes. He possessed a kind of sexual magnetism. The sort of charm that could make a woman lose her mind, and her clothes, in less time than it would take for him to properly execute a pickup line.

She could feel her body changing. Her breasts getting heavy, her limbs trembling, her stomach tightening, an ache building in her core. All it took was a look. He didn’t have to speak, didn’t have to move, and her body was ready for him. For his touch.

How did he do it? How did he peel her control away, strip by strip, like a flimsy silk covering? Not even Gabriel had been able to do that. She’d made the decision to cast off propriety and have an affair with him. With Rodriguez … she was trying to ignore it. Trying to hang on, and yet she couldn’t.

She backed away, gripping the knob on the playroom door, counting on the reminder that her son was right there to be her lifeline, to be her link to sanity.

“I’d better go check on Luca.”

He nodded sharply, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll send one of my staff up to sit with him in a couple of hours when the jeweler arrives. Is that all right with you?”




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