Charlene Sands - The Montoros Affair - The Princess and the Player / Maid for a Magnate / A Royal Temptation

They drove for a couple of miles, wrapped in tension. Just when James started to curse his flamboyant taste in cars, they crested a hill, and she gasped as a white farmhouse came into view.

Wonders of wonders. “Is that it?”

“I’m not sure.” Bella pursed her lips as he drove off the main road onto the winding path to the farmhouse and parked under a dangerously dilapidated carport.

Would serve him right if this ill-conceived jaunt through Alma resulted in a hundred grand worth of bodywork repairs when the carport collapsed on the Lamborghini. “I thought you said it was off this road.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be. But I’ve never been here before,” she pointed out. “Maybe there are a hundred white farmhouses between here and Aldeia Dormer.”

“Only one way to find out.” He helped her from the car and held her hand as they picked through the overgrown property. “Don’t step in the tall weed patches. There might be something living in them you’d rather not tangle with.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re here, then. I’ll let you deal with the creepy crawly stuff.”

“I’ll be your hero any day.”

Her grateful smile made his chest tight with a foreign weight because he felt like a fraud all at once. The only heroic thing he’d ever done in his life was give Bella an opportunity to be with Will if she chose. When had he last expended any appreciable effort looking out for someone else’s welfare?

He could start right now, if he wanted to. No reason he couldn’t keep an eye out for opportunities to throw himself in front of a bullet—figuratively speaking—for an amazing woman like Bella. If she’d smile at him like that again, the payoff wasn’t too shabby.

The farmhouse’s original grandeur still shone through despite the years of neglect. Once, the two-story clapboard house had likely been the home of a large family, where they gathered around an old wooden table at supper to laugh and tell stories as dogs ran underfoot.

As if he knew anything about what a family did at supper. Especially a family whose members liked each other and spent time together on purpose. Did that kind of lovely fairy tale even exist outside of movies? He swallowed the stupid lump in his throat. Who cared? He had no roots and liked it that way.

The property spread beyond the house into a small valley. Chickens had probably clucked in the wide backyard, scolding fat pigs or horses that lived in the wooden pens just barely visible from the front of the house. The fences had long fallen to the weed-choked ground, succumbing to weathering and decay.

James nearly tripped over an equally weathered rectangular wooden board hidden by the grass and weeds. He kicked at it, but it was solid enough not to move much despite the force of his well-toned football muscles. Metal loops across the top caught his attention and he leaned down to ease the board up on its side.

“It’s a sign,” Bella whispered as her gaze lit on the opposite side.

James spun around to view the front. In bold, blocky letters, the sign read Escondite Real. “In more ways than one.”

Unless he missed his guess, this was indeed the property of royalty. Or someone’s idea of a joke.

“No one told me to brush up on my Spanish before I came here. What does it say?” Bella asked with a mock pout.

“Royal Hideaway. Is this where your ancestors came to indulge in illicit affairs?”

Mischievously, she winked at James. “If not, it’s where the current generation will.”

“Illicit affairs are my favorite.” Taking her hand again, he guided her toward the house.

“Look. It’s beautiful.”

Bella pointed at a butterfly the size of his palm. It alighted on a purple bougainvillea that had thrived despite the lack of human attention, the butterfly’s wings touching and separating slowly. But the sight couldn’t keep his attention, not when Bella’s face had taken on a glow in the late afternoon sunlight as she smiled at the butterfly.

God, she was the most exquisite woman he’d ever seen. And that was saying something when he’d been hit on by women renowned the world over for their beauty.

“Let’s check out the inside.” He cleared the catch from his throat, mystified by where it had come from. Women were a dime a dozen. Why didn’t Bella seem like one of the legion he could have in his bed tomorrow?

It didn’t matter. Will hadn’t seen what he thought he’d seen when James cleared the air with him. The watch on his wrist wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Bella fished a set of keys from her bag. The second one turned the tumblers in the padlock on the splintered front door. It opened easily but the interior was dark and musty. Of course. There wouldn’t be any electricity at an abandoned farmhouse. Or a cleaning crew.

“I guess we should have thought this through a little better,” James said. “At least we know we’re in the right place since the key worked.”

Any hope of stripping Bella out of that little dress and spending the night in a haze of sensual pleasure vanished as something that sounded as if it had more feet than a football team scrabbled across the room.

“Yeah. It’s a little more rustic than I was anticipating.” She scowled at the gloom. “I’m not well versed in the art of abandoned farmhouses. Now what?”

* * *

Bella bit her lip to staunch the flow of frustrated tears. Which didn’t exactly work.

This was all her fault. She’d envisioned a romantic rendezvous with a sexy, exciting man—one she’d looked forward to getting to know very well—and never once had it crossed her mind that “abandoned” didn’t mean that someone had picked up and left a fully functioning house, ready and waiting for her and James to borrow for a night or two. The most strenuous thing she’d expected to do before letting James seduce her was kill a spider in the shower.

Graying sheets covered in cobwebs and dust obscured what she assumed must be furnishings underneath. The farmhouse hadn’t been lived in for a long time. Decades maybe. The property may not even have running water. She shuddered. What had Isabella sent her into?

One tear shook loose and slid down her face.

Without speaking, James took her hand and drew her into his embrace, which immediately calmed her. How had he known that was what she needed? She slid her arms around his waist and laid her head on his strong chest.

Goodness . His athlete’s physique did it for her in so many ways. He was shockingly solid and muscular for someone so lean and her own body woke up in a hurry. Sensation flooded her and she ached for him to kiss her again, as he’d done on the terrace—hot, commanding and so very sexy.

But then he drew back and tipped her chin up, his gaze serious and a bit endearing. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll drive into the village and pick up a few things. I hate to leave you here, but we can’t be photographed together. While I’m gone, see if you can find a way to clean up at least one room.”

His smile warmed her and she returned it, encouraged by his optimism. “You do have a gift for uncomplicating things. I’m a little jealous,” she teased.

“It’ll be smashing. I promise.”

He left and she turned her attention to the great room of the farmhouse. Once she pulled the drapes aside, sunlight shafted into the room through the wide windows, catching on the dusty chandelier. So the house was wired for electricity. That was a plus. Maybe she could figure out how to get it activated—for next time, obviously, because there was a distinct possibility she and James might make long-term use out of this hideaway. Being a princess had to be worth something, didn’t it?