Scandals Of The Royals. Lynn Raye HarrisЧитать онлайн книгу.
last night. And everything that hadn’t. Everything she’d wanted to feel, and then been ashamed for later.
She’d wanted him to do more than kiss her hand. Had wanted to feel the slow glide of his tongue sliding over her skin as he made the contact more intimate. Had wanted to feel the hot press of his mouth on her neck, her lips, down again to her breasts …
It was as though part of her, a part she’d ignored and forced down deep inside herself, had reawakened. She really, really didn’t want that part to wake up. She’d given in to that wild, reckless bit of herself before. The one that had always wondered what it would be like the slide down banisters and run barefoot on the palace lawn when she was a child. The one who wanted to find out what it was like to have a wild, passionate affair as an adult. Oh, yes, she’d given in to that part of herself once. Only once.
And she’d paid for it. Endlessly.
She loved Luca more than her own life, which made it hard to regret everything. But shaming her family like she had, bringing the paparazzi down on her head. The fact that, whether the other woman knew it or not, Carlotta had taken someone’s husband into her bed. And her final moments with the man … the ones she could never erase … she regretted all of that bitterly.
It galled still. Made her feel dirty every time she thought of it, as though there was a permanent film covering her skin. One that never washed clean, no matter how many times she showered. No matter how many times she chose the sensible option instead of the risky one. It was always there. Waiting to betray her.
And now that she was experiencing this uncontrollable … thing around Rodriguez, it was coming back stronger than it had been in years. Along with the reminder of what happened when you chose impulse over propriety.
“Well, it is important. I have to get ready.”
His lips twitched. “You look fine.”
She put her hand to the back of her head to see if the high, spiky ponytail she’d managed early that morning was still there. “No. I don’t,” she said, after confirming that she was still, in fact, a disaster.
“All right, maybe you should get ready.”
She stood, trying to remember all of the grace and poise she’d learned living in the palace in Santina. It was sort of laughable when one had the crazy ponytail and gray sweatpants. Even if they were cute gray sweatpants.
She was going to have to get into the mindset of being on show again. All the time. All day, every day. That was royal life, and even though she’d let herself forget it these past five years, it was still there in her.
Along with a few other things she thought she’d left behind.
She looked down at Luca, who had a ring of sugar around his mouth and half a churro and cup of hot chocolate left to eat. “Can you stay with him while I get myself sorted?” she asked.
Rodriguez looked down at Luca, trying to keep his face blank of emotion. A tough thing to do since his chest was tightening with a strange feeling he was reluctant to identify. Fear. He was afraid of a five-year-old boy. Wasn’t that a joke.
“Fine,” he said, taking a seat a few chairs away from Luca.
“I’ll be back in a bit. I’m good at getting ready fast.”
Carlotta walked out of the room, and he felt compelled to watch. The way the loose, gray pants hugged her pert butt when she walked was the biggest tease he’d come across in a while. Because she should have looked plain. Boring. And yet, something about her face scrubbed free of makeup, and her hair so obviously unstyled was … eye-catching. He had to look twice. A third time.
And he’d had to watch her walk—sashay, really—from the room like she was in her finest dress and heels, when she was wearing slippers and sweats. Shockingly, he’d found a lot to look at.
“I like these.”
Rodriguez turned his head, Luca’s little voice as effective as a bucket of cold water in his lap. The arousal that had tightened his gut eased and the tightness in his throat returned.
“Do you?” he asked, assuming Luca meant the churro he was holding up in his little hand.
He nodded. “I like this table too. It’s big. I bet you could fit a really big cake on it.”
Rodriguez looked at Luca, not sure of what he was supposed to say to that. The boy just kind of … chattered. About cakes and crowns and whatever came to his mind. It didn’t make him angry. That kind of thing would have made his father angry. As a result, he hadn’t chattered much, and he’d never been around children who did.
He’d never really been around children at all, not even when he was one.
Dios. He was actually sweating. Small beads of cold moisture forming on his brow, his back. Being near Luca made it so easy to remember …
“I like chocolate cake. With sprinkles. It’s what I had for my last birthday. And I got Sherbie and Sherbet.”
Rodriguez sucked in a breath. “And they are?”
“My owls. They aren’t real. They’re toys.”
“And he thinks I have a funny name,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Are you going to school this year?” he asked. That seemed safe. And normal. Not something random about stuffed animals.
“I don’t know. I was going to, but Mama said that now I might not. I might have school here. Because it’s different to live in a castle.”
Images of his own childhood, lonely, with no one but adults around him. On a good day, a stern nanny or teacher. And then there were days when there was only his father.
“It can be,” he said slowly, his eyes meeting Luca’s. “But it can be fun.” He wasn’t sure if that was true. All of his fun had been away from the castle. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d discovered women here, at a much too early age. They had been a revelation. A way to feel happy.
He frowned. He knew already he didn’t want that for Luca. Growing up fast had been a must for him, but the thought of this boy behaving like he had in just ten short years … that didn’t settle well with him.
He tried again. “If you want to go to school away from the palace, we can arrange it.” Luca nodded and Rodriguez wasn’t at all sure he’d understood what he was saying. “I mean, you can stay here for school if you want.” He looked over his shoulder and at the door Carlotta had walked out of only a few short moments ago. “Or you could go to a class with friends.”
“I think it would be more fun with friends.”
“I’m sure it would be.” Rodriguez couldn’t comment on that for sure either. “We’ll talk to Car—your mama.”
Luca’s nanny, a petite redhead with pale skin and freckles, walked in, a smile on her face. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said, her focus on him, her smile bright. “And good morning to you too, Luca.”
Rodriguez stood, hoping the swiftness of the motion didn’t betray just how eager he was to get out of the room. “Buenos dias. You must be Angelina.”
“I am,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. She was cute. In a flashier way than Carlotta, thanks to her fiery red hair and glittering golden eyes. Not so long ago, a week ago, he would have been tempted to make a pass at her.
But now he thought she didn’t quite measure up to Carlotta’s quiet sophistication. Carlotta was … sleek. Her hair always so neat, except for this morning, her appearance always perfectly pressed. Again, except for this morning. And that added dimension had only made her more interesting. She had layers. He couldn’t remember ever caring if a woman had layers before.
Strange.
“Nice to meet you. I have …”