“You have more important concerns than my safety,” Antoine said.
“I have theirs.” He glanced toward the doors to the emergency room. “She’s stubborn and strong and independent. She may not agree to go with me.”
Antoine shrugged. “She may not, but then I’ve never known you to take no for an answer. Or I would not have been playing nanny the past few days.”
“She’s even more stubborn than you are.”
“True. When I lost contact with Brenner, I called the ranch and told her to hide and wait until I got help to you,” Antoine shared. “But she didn’t wait.” “No.”
“She loves you. And I do not have to ask if you love her. You would not have been so willing to let her go if you did not love her.”
“You know that love only complicates the situation.”
“Grandfather is gone,” Antoine said. “You should not be listening to him anymore. It is not because our father was not royalty that he and our mother were killed.”
“No. It wasn’t because of what Father wasn’t but because of what he was.”
Antoine shrugged. “You are not our father or our grandfather. You need to listen to your heart. Let it tell you what’s best.”
Sebastian wasn’t convinced that letting her go wouldn’t be the best thing to do. But he realized he loved her too much to do that. She had trusted him to protect her.
Would she trust him to love her? Could he convince a woman who’d lived the life she had to believe in fairy tales?
Chapter Seventeen
It’s like a fairy tale.
As the plane neared the runway, the beauty of the island stole her breath. It was so lush and green with splashes of vibrant color in lakes and flowers. And the water surrounding it was so clear and blue and deep.
Like Sebastian’s eyes…
She glanced over at him, but he was busy with Samantha, pointing out the window to show her his island. His…
Like she longed to be. But he had only invited her to his home because of his overdeveloped sense of responsibility. He and the other royals believed that she and Samantha were still in danger because the media had learned that she was the witness.
But she had witnessed nothing of any use to anyone. If only Evgeny had told her who was behind the attempts on their lives…
But Evgeny had never done anything to help her—only to hurt her. Yet Sebastian, who was only trying to help her, might hurt her far worse than Evgeny ever had. Because he was giving her false hope, making her believe that it might be possible for the fairy tale to come true.
She closed her eyes to all of it and murmured, “It’s not real.”
“What’s not real, Mommy?” Samantha asked.
She forced a smile. “Nothing.”
Everything. The private plane. The island. The prince. None of it felt real. She had to be back at the ranch, in her bed dreaming. Soon Helen’s old rooster would crow and wake her at the crack of dawn. And she would discover that none of it had really happened. She hadn’t witnessed an explosion. She hadn’t met Sebastian after the press conference he’d held two weeks ago. She hadn’t made love with him.
But if none of that had really happened, then Evgeny was still out there, searching for her…
She trembled at the horror that would be, living with the burden of all that fear again. A big hand covered hers, offering comfort and heat with just the squeeze of his long, sensual fingers.
She wanted to feel them on her skin again, caressing her as he had that night, a week ago. She lifted her gaze to his mouth. The swelling had gone down, his split lip healed. She wanted to kiss him. But he hadn’t asked her to come home with him because he loved her. He’d asked her because he wanted to protect her, because he felt responsible for her safety.
“The pilot is very good,” he assured her. “The landing will be smooth.”
Just like every other assurance he had offered her, this one was warranted, too. They landed without incident. It was the disembarking that scared her. So many of his subjects had gathered at the airport, with flowers and signs to welcome their ruler home. The media was also present, but unlike the reporters in Dumont, these did not hurl impudent questions. Instead, like his other subjects, they just welcomed him back.
Everyone adored him. His subjects. Samantha. And most of all, her. She loved him—too much to ruin his life. While they were not hurling the questions that U.S. reporters would have, they asked for her identity.
And once they learned who she was—the widow of a Russian mobster—they would not welcome her as they did their prince. They would believe, as she already did, that she was not good enough for him. His grandfather was right, and certainly Sebastian knew, that royalty needed to marry royalty, not commoners like her.
A
FTER A WEEK OF WAITING
for the sheriff to close the shootings at the ranch and clear him of any wrong doing, Sebastian had finally been free to leave Dumont. He could have invoked diplomatic immunity and left earlier, but he had wanted to keep the sheriff as an ally, so that Antoine had someone else watching his back because Sebastian could not.
It had also taken him a week to talk Jessica into coming with him for her and Samantha’s safety. But while she was with him in body, that spirit of hers for which he had fallen so hard was not present.
The Jessica he knew so intimately and loved so deeply really hadn’t come to Barajas with him. Now he stood outside the door to her guest suite. She had already tucked Samantha into bed. He’d checked on the little girl himself, kissing her forehead as she snuggled under the blankets. His heart ached from swelling so much with the love that filled it for her.
He would do anything for her. Or for her mother. Even let them go if he had to—if she really wanted to go. He couldn’t hold on to her like Evgeny had.
Perhaps Antoine was wrong. Perhaps she did not love him. But he wouldn’t know unless he asked. So he lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles against the glossy mahogany panels.
The door opened on silent hinges—the only sound the slight catch of her breath as Jessica stared up at him. She’d washed out the red dye, leaving her hair a warm chocolate brown. And she’d had it cut so that it curled softly around her face, making her look more like a teenager than a thirty-one-year-old single mother.
“You didn’t need to check on us,” she said. “We’re quite comfortable.” “Are
we?
” he asked, because he sure as hell wasn’t comfortable, not with her inside his house but still so far out of reach.
“Yes,” she said. “Samantha is, too. You already know that, though, because you just checked on her. I heard you go into her room.”
“She was fast asleep.” He skimmed his gaze down Jessica’s body. She’d wrapped a terry-cloth robe around her sexy curves, cinching it tight around her slim waist. “Why aren’t you…if you’re so comfortable here?”
“Of course I’m comfortable. It’s a palace.” She spun in the middle of the floor, her bare feet sliding easily across the marble. “It’s literally a palace.”
“It sounds like that makes you uncomfortable.”
She lifted her slender shoulders in a slight shrug. “Maybe it just makes me feel guilty.”
“Guilty?”
Her beautiful face flushed with rosy color. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Jessica—”
“I should be back at the ranch,” she said. “I should be taking care of Helen. It’s my fault she got hurt so badly.”
“It’s Evgeny’s fault,” he corrected her. “Not yours. She loves you.”
Tears glistening in her eyes, she nodded. “That’s why I should be back there, helping her clean up the mess left at the ranch.”
“I am making certain that the mess is cleaned up.”
She smiled. “You’re doing more than cleaning up. You’re redoing the whole place.”
“You would not accept the reward, so I gave it to a good cause.”
“Fulfilling Helen’s dream of converting her ranch into a women’s shelter from domestic abuse.”
“It already was,” he said. “She offered you shelter all those years.”
“Now you’re offering me shelter.” She expelled a ragged little sigh. “When all this is over, and I’m sure Samantha is safe, I will stop being a charity case.”
“You are not a charity case.” Not with her stubborn pride.
She snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m just another responsibility you don’t need right now. I know you’d rather be in Dumont, looking for your friend and watching over your brother.”
“There is no place I’d rather be,” he said and stepped inside her room and closed the door. “And I’m not offering you shelter or charity.”
He reached out, pleased when she didn’t flinch—when instead her face flushed a deeper rose and her eyes grew dark, her pupils dilating as she stared up at him. Unable to resist her any longer, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her hungrily, parting her lips to taste her unique sweetness.
She planted her palms against his chest and eased him back. Panting for breath, she asked, “What are you offering me?”
“My heart.”
She shook her head, as if trying to shake herself awake. “No.”
“You won’t take my heart?” He stepped back, reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. “You won’t take my ring?”
She gasped in surprise.
He popped the box open to the oval diamond solitaire that caught the light of the chandelier hanging over her bed. “You won’t take my name?”
“You can’t offer any of these things to me,” she said with a wistful sigh.
“Why not?” Did she not love him? Had Antoine been wrong? Perhaps there was a first time for everything. But she had risked her life for his.
“You are a prince. You can’t marry a woman like me.”
“A woman like you?”
“I am not royalty,” she said. “But my life is a royal mess. I was married to a Russian mobster. I’m a single mother. I would ruin your public image.”
“It does not matter to me if you are not royalty.”
“But you dated only princesses.” She threw his words back at him.
And for a moment he regretted ever telling her. But then he was glad that he had because they had no secrets from each other. “I was trying to please a man I could never please. Just because I am my father’s son, I would never make my grandfather happy. But he was wrong about my father. You were right. He was a brave man who fought to keep his family safe. He failed, but at least he had the guts to try.”
She shook her head with regret. “I don’t think I have the guts to try. I’m not the kind of woman who can marry a prince.”
“You have no idea what kind of woman you are,” he said with a sigh. “I told you before what kind of woman you are. Strong and brave and resilient. And so very smart.”
“Smart enough to know that marrying me will hurt you.”
“The only thing that will hurt me is if you tell me that you don’t love me as much as I love you.”
Tears glistened in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. In the past week the swelling had gone down, and the bruising had faded. “It’s because I love you that I can’t accept your ring or your name. Marrying me would hurt you. And I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“What do you think is going to happen if you accept my proposal? I am not an elected official,” he reminded her.
“But can’t princes and kings be overthrown?”
“So you think my marrying you will cause a civil uprising?” he asked, unable to stop a laugh from slipping out.
Pride lifted her chin. “Your country won’t approve.”
“My country trusts my judgment,” he said with his own pride. “I thought you trusted me, too.”
“I do.”
“Then trust that I know what is best for me. You are best for me. You and Samantha are my world,” he said, his love overflowing his too-full heart to spill into his voice. “Losing Barajas would not hurt me as much as losing you two.”
She blinked back her tears. “You won’t lose your country.”
He uttered her name as a protest of her refusal. “Jessica—”
She held out her left hand. “And you won’t lose me or Samantha. I will accept your love, Sebastian, as long as you accept mine.”
That emotion swelling from his heart to his throat made it difficult for him to speak. He had to swallow hard before he could ask, “Jessica Peters, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“I will be honored to be your wife,” she replied.
He slid the ring onto her finger, not surprised that it was a perfect fit. Just like the two of them. He stood up, lifted her in his arms and swung her around as joy exploded inside him.
He had never been so happy….
Jessica smiled at him, like Samantha did—with that light and warmth that reached so deep inside him. Then she reached for him, tugging open his buttons and unzipping his pants. He pushed the robe from her shoulders so that she stood naked before him. That light of happiness and love radiated from her skin so that she glowed like an angel.
“I love you so much.” He said the words against her lips, as he took her mouth. Then he laid her on the bed and took her. As he thrust inside her, he ran his lips down her chin and neck to the swell of her full breasts.
She locked her legs around his waist and met his thrusts, skimming her callused fingers up and down his back. She clutched his butt, pulling him deeper inside her.
They came together, screaming each other’s name. And when Sebastian pressed his cheek to hers, it wasn’t just her tears that dampened his skin.
“It’s real,” she murmured. “I’m not dreaming.”
“No.” He lifted her hand so that the diamond reflected the light. “Because we would both have to be dreaming the same dream.”
“We are,” she said. “And we just made someone else’s dream come true.”
“S
AMANTHA
…” J
ESSICA GENTLY
nudged her daughter awake.
The little girl sleepily blinked her pretty eyes open and stared up at her mother. Sebastian sat next to her on the bed, his arm around her shoulders. “What, Mommy? Is it mornin’ already?”
“No.” Jessica hadn’t been able to wait until morning to share their joy. “You can go back to sleep in just a few minutes.”
“’Kay…” Samantha rubbed a knuckle in her eye and focused. “Hi, Sebastian…”
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Remember when you asked me if Sebastian was a real prince?” Jessica asked.
Samantha nodded. “Yeah, when we first saw him on TV. And Helen said princes can’t be cowboys. But Sebastian is both.”
Sebastian chuckled. “Obviously she hasn’t seen me ride yet. Uncle Antoine is the cowboy prince. Not me.”
“But he is a prince,” Jessica said. “And now you and I are going to be princesses.”
“Because he kissed you…like Sleeping Beauty,” Samantha said, probably remembering the night in his hotel suite. “He kissed you and woke you up.”
His protection and his love had awakened Jessica from the nightmare she’d been living. Finally she had found a man she could trust with her heart—her true Prince Charming. “Yes, he woke me up. And he proposed. I’m going to be his wife, honey.”
“And you’re going to be my daughter,” Sebastian said.
“So that’ll make me a princess?”
Jessica nodded.
“Will I get to wear a crown like in my fairy tales?”
“This isn’t a fairy tale,” Jessica said. “It’s real.” Their love and their family were wonderfully real.