Michelle Celmer - Tempted By The Royal

And in that moment, she really wanted to tell him. She wanted to share the joy and excitement of every minute of her pregnancy with him. But aside from the fact that an airplane probably wasn’t the most appropriate place to share the news, especially with their friends seated across from them, there was the fear that he might not share her joy and excitement.

And if his reception of the news was less than enthusiastic, she shouldn’t be surprised. Even she’d been more shocked than pleased when Dr. Morgan had advised her of the pregnancy, and though she already loved her baby more than she would ever have thought was possible, she knew she couldn’t expect that Eric would feel the same. Which was why she knew it was important to choose the right time and place—and then to give him time and space to absorb the news and consider all of the implications.

No, it was definitely not the-airplane-has-just-landed-and-he’s-so-close-that-I-can’t-even-think-straight-because-my-hormonesare-running-riot kind of news.

Instead, she only said, “Thank you.”

He released the ends of her seat belt. “You’re welcome.”

The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek, and a wave of heat washed over her, leaving her weak and flushed.

It was as if every nerve ending in her body was attuned to him, sending tingles of awareness and wanting through her system every time he even glanced in her direction. She’d never responded to anyone as she responded to him.

She wanted to blame it on the pregnancy, all those hormones running amok through her system, but she knew it was Eric.

Because the fact was, she wouldn’t be pregnant if she hadn’t had the same instinctive response to him from the very beginning.

The limo driver took them along the coast, so that they were flanked by rolling green hills on one side and powdery sand and crystal blue waters on the other. It was all so peaceful now, but Molly imagined that could change in the blink of an eye, that a storm could churn up the water so that the waves lashed against the rocks like angry sea monsters.

A fanciful thought, she knew, encouraged by the inherent beauty and mystery of this land that could make her imagination run as wild as it had when she was a child. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising that she was remembering childhood dreams—after all, she was riding with a prince on the way to his castle. She just had to remember that this wasn’t a magical enchantment and she wasn’t looking for a “happily ever after” ending.

Still, there were thoughts and ideas swirling through her mind that she vowed to jot down at the earliest opportunity. And when she caught her first glimpse of the royal palace, she couldn’t entirely stifle her gasp of surprised pleasure.

It stood high atop a jutting cliff, a stunning structure of towers and turrets that was both more imposing and impressive than she could have imagined. She’d been curious enough to do some reading about the Santiago family and knew they had ruled long and ruled well, and she sensed that this castle, standing strong and proud on the hill, wasn’t just a symbol to the people of Tesoro del Mar but a promise.

Another fanciful thought, perhaps, and while she’d been prepared for a fairy tale—something reminiscent of a little girl’s misty-edged dreams—the reality was somehow even better.

The driver parked at the bottom of a set of wide stone steps that led up to a pair of imposing wooden doors that looked as if they could withstand the attack of a medieval battering ram. Those massive doors opened into an entranceway that was bigger than Molly’s entire apartment, with a floor made of marble and walls papered in something that added hints of both shimmer and depth. Sun streamed through the tall arched windows that bracketed the doors, bathing the space in warmth and light, and fresh flowers spilled out of tall vases so that the air was perfumed with their fragrant scent.

They were greeted by a housekeeper who curtsied to the prince before advising that the guests’ rooms were ready. Eric thanked and assured her that he would show them the way, then directed them up the curving stairs to the second floor, then the third. He guided them down a wide hallway, where the sound of their steps was muffled by the plush carpet. The walls were hung with pictures and tapestries, and the windows draped with velvet curtains.

Fiona and Scott were delivered to their suite before Eric led Molly a little bit farther down the hall.

“Your rooms overlook the gardens,” he told her.

Not a room but rooms, she noted, as he opened an ornately carved door and led her into a sitting room that boasted a couple of richly upholstered chairs on either side of a stone fireplace and an antique writing desk and balloon-back chair. Behind the desk was a window, wide and multipaned, with the promised view of gardens that boasted a stunning array of vibrant colors and exotic scents.

Through the sitting room was the bedroom with a tall chest of drawers and matching bedside table of gleaming cherrywood and a wide bed topped with a thick duvet and piled with fluffy pillows. The bathroom was half the size of the bedroom again, with a deep whirlpool tub and separate shower, toilet and pedestal sink.

“If you need anything, you only need to ring for housekeeping,” he told her, gesturing to the phone beside the bed.

“You might need a crowbar to pry me out of here after the wedding,” she warned.

“Then maybe you’ll decide to stay,” he said, sounding as if he meant it.

“You know I can’t,” she told him.

But there was a part of her that already wished she could.

Eric had decided to give Molly space.

As much as he was eager to spend time with her and anxious to show off his homeland, he had sensed a new wariness in her since they’d landed in Tesoro del Mar—as if she knew that he now had the home turf advantage and was waiting to see how he would use it. He decided it couldn’t hurt to let her wait—and wonder—a little while longer.

It was Fiona who gave him the opportunity, and the opening, he’d been hoping for. Saturday morning, only their third full day on the island, he found her alone by the pool.

“Lose your fiancé already?” he teased.

“He went down to the stables to take a ride with Rowan and Christian.”

“What about Molly?” he asked, with what he thought was casual interest.

“She should be down shortly.” But she frowned when she said it. “You’re supposed to be relaxing not worrying,” Eric told her, lowering himself onto the edge of the vacant lounger beside hers. “I assure you, all the wedding details are being taken care of.”

“I’m not worrying about the wedding,” she said.

“But you’re worried about something.”

She sighed. “Molly.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I know she argued with her sister before we left Texas, although that’s not really unusual. And even before that—for the past several weeks now—she’s seemed really distracted. As if she’s worried about something but she won’t tell me what it is.”

“She probably figures you have enough on your mind right now.”

“She used to tell me everything,” Fiona said. “I don’t have any siblings, and although Molly does, we’ve always been as close as sisters. Closer than Molly and Abbey, that’s for sure, especially after the stunt Abbey pulled with Jason.”

“Molly’s ex-fiancé?”

“How did you know they were engaged?” she asked curiously.