Could she trust him? Did he mean what he'd said? Did he want to marry her?
And if so, what did she want? Hadn't she just spent five years wishing for the impossible— the return of her one true love? Was she going to let him get away just because he happened to be the heir to a throne?
7
"That poor girl," Grandma Tessa said as she expertly stitched a bead into place on the piece of white satin she held in her hands.
Grammy M rolled her eyes. "She should be more trustin' of the man she's marryin', or she shouldn't be marryin' him a-tall."
"Trust is a tricky thing," Mia said, hoping to avoid an argument between her grandmothers. There was already enough tension between them about Rafael. "I see her point. I mean, hey, it's me."
Grammy M smiled. "You are a special one, Mia, but you're not all that."
Mia laughed. "Not all that? Where did you learn that expression."
"HBO," Tessa said with a grin. "We watch it all the time."
"Okay. Now I'm scared."
"Don't be," Tessa told her. "Amber is a sensible girl and she loves David. That's plain to see. But she's cautious."
"Why?" Grammy M asked. "David is a good man. She's lucky to be gettin' him."
"Sometimes a little caution is a good thing. A smart woman isn't taken in by a pretty face, fancy words, and an accent," said Tessa.
Grammy M put down her piece of white satin. "I suppose you'll be meanin' me when you make that remark. As if I could be taken in."
"You have been. What do we know about Rafael, eh? What he tells us. Charming manners are nice at dinner, but they don't say anything about his character. Mia is smart to hold back."
"Okay, I don't want to get in the middle of this," Mia said quickly. "Really. Let's change the subject. How about those grapes? Are they growing or what?"
"I don't think Mia should go running off with Rafael just because he smiles at her," Grammy M said, her voice clipped. "I'm saying she should give the man a chance to prove himself before she accepts his proposal."
There was a moment of perfect silence. Mia paused in the act of reaching for another bead. While her grandmothers sewed on the front of David's wedding vest, she'd been trusted with two tabs in the back.
She replayed that last sentence, lingering on the final word. How on earth did her grandmothers know about Rafael's proposal?
There was only one possible explanation. Damn the man. She'd asked him not to say anything. She hadn't wanted the pressure. She didn't know what she was going to do herself and she wasn't looking for advice.
"He told you?" She tossed the tabs onto the table and glared at them both. "He told you?"
"He might have mentioned it in passing," Grammy M said as she continued to calmly sew.
Mia couldn't believe it. "How, exactly, does that happen? You're discussing the weather and you ask if he's proposed recently, then he chuckles and says as a matter of fact he has?"
Her voice rose with each word until it ended on a shriek.
"Who else knows?" she demanded.
"No one," Grammy M said soothingly. "It was just the three of us in the kitchen. We were talking about you and how smart you are. Rafael seemed to like that. He mentioned you would be a beautiful and compassionate queen." She sighed. "Imagine. Our little girl a queen."
Right then Mia wanted to throw something, which didn't feel very royal to her. She turned to Grandma Tessa.
"What did you say? Do you think it's a good idea?"
"I think you should get to know the man before making any decisions that take you so far away."
"Okay, maybe. But doesn't it bother you that he told you?"
"Not as much as you not telling us," Tessa said.
Mia sank back into her chair. "I needed to think about it. No, I needed to find out a way to tell him no."
Grammy M dropped her needle. "No? But he's the father of your child, Mia. Danny'll be needin' a father as he grows up."
"He has Joe."
"An uncle isn't a father."
Mia looked at Grandma Tessa. "You can't want me to marry him."
"I want you to be happy. And sensible."
"He shouldn't have told you," Mia insisted. "It's not right."
"We're your family," Grammy M said, as if that explained everything.
But it didn't. Rafael went behind her back. What was up with that? Did he want to pressure her into saying yes?
Even as the thought occurred, she dismissed it. Hello, they were talking about royalty. Princes didn't need to push women into their lives. Women went willingly.
"I have to go talk to him," she muttered.
"He's outside playing with Danny," Grammy M offered.
Mia waved her thanks and stomped through the kitchen toward the back door. Something about this just didn't feel right. The word manipulation kept popping into her mind, which seemed both harsh and unfair.
She stepped out into the warm afternoon and immediately heard the sound of childish laughter.
"You're dead," Danny said gleefully as he poked at an action figure in Rafael's hand. "Dead, dead, dead."
They sat on a blanket in the shade. Around them were the remnants of what had obviously been a hard-fought war. Plastic soldiers lay discarded in heaps. Mia would bet that nearly every military toy had been hauled out for today's game.
"I die, I die," Rafael said in a high-pitched voice. "You shot me and I die."
Both he and his plastic soldier fell to the blanket. Danny doubled over with laughter, and Mia found herself smiling.
Interesting that the imperial prince had allowed himself to be defeated. So maybe Rafael was good with his son. That had to count for something, didn't it?
He looked up and saw her. "You are in time to attend my funeral. I am killed."
Danny grinned. "He's not a very good soldier."
Rafael pressed a hand to his chest. "How you wound me with your words. I am an excellent soldier. Perhaps you are simply better."
"I am!" Danny crowed. "I'm the best. I'm the heir."
Mia narrowed her gaze. "You are, huh? Maybe in Calandria but not here. Here you're just Danny Marcelli. Okay, kid. Why don't you head inside and ask the Grands to fix you a snack."
"Okay."
He scrambled to his feet and raced to her. She dropped to her knees for his kiss and hug, then stood as he ran into the house.
"He is the heir," Rafael told her from his place on the blanket. "Do not discourage him from knowing his own importance. He will one day be king."
"Not something I can readily imagine. Besides, he already has a very strong sense of self. Trust me, you don't want to make him feel any more important than he already does."
Rafael patted the blanket. "Join me," he said quietly. "It is very nice out here."
She glanced around. "Where are the boys with the guns?"
"Oliver and Umberto have taken a tour of the winery with Brenna."
"I'm surprised they were willing to let you out of their sight."
"I insisted. I wanted the time alone with my son. It is not good to always have bodyguards lurking."
"I agree." She sank onto the blanket.
He reached for her hand, but she slid away from him.
"Mia, what is wrong?"
"My grandmothers just informed me that you told them about asking me to marry you. That's not my definition of playing fair. I asked you not to say anything."
He nodded. "You are right. I should not have mentioned it. Believe me, I did not tell them in an effort to trap you or make you feel obligated. I don't want you to marry me because you think you have to."
He gave her a half smile that she found boyish and appealing, but she was careful not to respond in any way.
"Don't worry about forcing me into marriage. It won't happen."
"Good. As for what I said, the words slipped out. I was thinking about us being together and…" He shrugged. "I apologize."
Really? Rafael was many things, but he was not the type who apologized.
"I mean that," he said quietly. "I was wrong."
The W word. So rarely uttered by a male. The combination of his sincerity and his accent was difficult to resist.
"Okay," she muttered, not sure how to accept his apology without encouraging him. "I, ah, don't want you mentioning the proposal to anyone else."
"Agreed." He moved closer. "May I discuss it with you?"
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"But if I do not, how can I convince you that you belong with me in Calandria? I know you are not the type to be enticed by talk of jewels or riches, so instead I thought I would talk about my house at the edge of the island. Of the sound of the surf on the rocks and how beautiful your skin will be in the moonlight as we make love. I thought I would admit that I still dream about what it was like to be with you, of the feel of your body under mine and the way you clung so fiercely to me. As if you would never let go."
She remembered, too. The need to hold on to him had always overwhelmed her whenever they were intimate. Even now, after all this time, she recalled the weight of him as he plunged into her, taking her to the edge of the world and then jumping with her.
"I remember the passion in your eyes," he murmured as he moved closer still. "How sensually you touched me. Your fingers, your mouth."
He rubbed his thumb against her bottom lip. She couldn't help grabbing his wrist and holding him still while she gently bit down on his skin.
His breath caught as their eyes locked. Need filled her. Five years of missing this man exploded inside of her. Her breasts tightened, her thighs squeezed, and she reached for him just as he grabbed for her.
They fell onto the blanket, him on top, their legs tangled. He was heavy and strong and hard, so very hard as his erection rubbed against her belly. She slid her fingers through his hair and guided his mouth to hers.
She opened instantly, needing deep, dark, passionate kisses that would touch her soul. He read her mind, or perhaps he needed the same, because he thrust into her mouth and claimed her.
Her tongue circled his; then she closed her lips around him and sucked. He groaned, then shifted so his arousal pressed between her legs.
Her thighs fell open as she welcomed him home; then she wrapped her legs around his hips and urged him to rub harder and faster.
"More," she gasped as she dropped her hands to his butt and squeezed the tight flesh.
He grabbed her, then shifted so that she was on top, her center resting on his erection. They were both panting, needy, and she couldn't seem to stop looking into his eyes.
Blue instead of brown, but she had grown used to that difference. The missing scars no longer mattered. On the surface, Rafael might look different from Diego, but her body recognized its most significant lover.
"Kiss me," he demanded even as he reached for her breasts.
She braced herself on the blanket and lowered her head. At the same time he cupped her curves and began to tease her tight nipples.
The combination of sensations— his tongue in her mouth, his hands on her breasts, her swollen wet center rubbing against his cock— was too much. Despite the fact that they were outside and fully dressed, she shuddered into orgasm.
The release stunned her, but she couldn't stop moving against him, couldn't stop kissing him, and would have killed him if he'd stopped touching her nipples.
But he didn't. As wave after wave of pleasure claimed her, he stroked her and kissed her and urged her on.
Somewhere in the house, a door slammed. Mia came back to reality with a thud. She wasn't a wild teenager anymore and she had a child to think about. Did she really want Danny running outside and seeing his mother acting like this?
