His Royal Pleasure

His Royal Pleasure
Leanne Banks

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Pirate’s Island, North Carolina is an unlikely vacation destination for Prince Alexander of Moreno. But when a detour brings him to the rustic campground, he jumps at the chance to be just Alex, no media glare, no royal responsibilities, for four glorious weeks. That the manager is a beautiful, fun-loving redhead unlike any woman he’s ever met makes the prospect even sweeter…

Katherine Kendall doesn’t trust men easily, including the wickedly handsome stranger who practically washes up on her island. But most of all she doesn’t trust her body’s reaction to this uncommon man--and when he offers to tutor her in the nuances of love-making, to awaken the sensual woman within, she cannot resist…

Days with Katherine bring out a playful side Alex thought long-buried, and nights are filled with passion. As summer wanes, Alex begins to crave something he never has before. But will his secret tear them apart?

Previously published.

Thanks to Nita Taublib for “fixing the music box,” and to Courtney Henke for the tinnitus.

This one is for all the grown-up little girls who ever dreamed of princes and happy endings.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Chapter One

“He smells.”

Katherine Kendall wrinkled her nose and turned her head, wishing she could magically cause the man sprawled on her couch to disappear.

“Not that bad,” Chad replied as he closed his eyes and slunk farther into the La-Z-Boy lounger.

“He smells like he took a bath in a tub of whiskey,” she corrected, none too happy with being awakened at two in the morning to deal with another of Chad’s misadventures.

“Well, you would, too, if someone broke a bottle of whiskey over your head.” Chad warily propped open one eye, then shut it again.

Katherine tightened the belt of her kimono-style robe and planted her hands on her hips. “This is crazy. Do you even know this guy’s name? He could be a mass murderer for all we know.”

Grudgingly Chad opened both eyes. “All I know is he got the bottle that was aimed at my head before all hell broke loose at Chuck’s Bar. Some guy punched him, and I figured the least I could do was drag him out of there and give him a place to rest for the night. He would have ended up in jail if I hadn’t taken him with me.”

There was a strange logic to Chad’s explanation. That was frightening. When her nineteen-year-old half brother started to make sense she was in trouble. “I’ve got to be up at six. Make sure Prince Charming is out of here by then. I’m going to bed.”

She turned toward her bedroom.

“But you can’t.”

“Can’t?” Katherine turned back around and arched an eyebrow.

Chad stood and gestured awkwardly toward the man on the sofa. “Somebody’s gotta check him out and make sure he’s okay.”

“Call a doctor.”

“Katie!”

“What?”

“Can’t you at least look him over? I mean, you’re the one who’s taken first aid.”

“Why didn’t you take him to the clinic?”

“I didn’t think he was hurt that bad. I just knew we had to get out of Chuck’s.”

“Is he drunk or does he have a concussion?”

Chad gave a grimace of uncertainty and shrugged.

Katherine sighed in resignation and moved toward the sofa. “Get me a damp washcloth and the first-aid kit. It’s in the bathroom.”

Then, as Chad prudently followed her instructions, Katherine reluctantly turned her attention to the unconscious man. He was tall, longer than the six-foot plaid sofa. His face was damp from the storm raging outside, his dark hair drenched. She gently touched his head, checking for bumps. She found one the size of a goose egg and winced. The blow must have been painful.

“So, what do you think?” Chad asked as he handed her the washcloth.

With great care Katherine sponged the man’s face, neck and head. Her instincts told her the man would be all right, and she told Chad so. Then looking at the stranger’s face for the first time, she felt a vague sense of the familiar. “He looks like—” She stopped, because she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“He looks like who?” Chad asked.

She squinted her eyes together and tried to concentrate. There was something about him, something that made her pulse run faster. She should know him. She searched her memory but came up with nothing.

Katherine shrugged, dismissing the odd feeling. “He looks like a mess.” She studied the way his facial structure was sculpted with clean lines, high cheekbones, dark eyebrows, an aquiline nose and a firm but compelling mouth. Uncompromising. Men would feel threatened by the arrogance in that face. Women would stare at him and make silent, secret wishes.

Other women, she thought. She would never indulge in such futile wishes. His lovers would be tall, cool, sophisticated blondes. Not, she concluded wryly, short, emotional redheads with perms from hell.

She unbuttoned his fine cotton shirt and frowned. “This doesn’t fit Chuck’s dress code. Have you ever met this guy before?”

“Nah, the first time I saw him was when I ducked Randy’s bottle.” Chad cleared his throat. “I was busy playing cards before that.”

Katherine glanced knowingly at her brother. “I’ll just bet you were. Did this fight have anything to do with your tendency to cheat?”

Chad shifted his feet. “Cheating’s a harsh term.”

Katherine closed her eyes, silently praying for restraint. Then she looked at the stranger interrupting her sleep and felt a twinge of concern.

She tried to keep her touch clinical as she pulled the wet garment from his shoulders, but Katherine was a tactile person. She liked the slide of silk against her body, the texture of well-worn cotton and satin that caressed like warm water. She enjoyed feeling the vibration of a cat’s purr, couldn’t keep her hands off the peach fuzz of a baby’s head, and she had a weakness for touching beautiful things.

His chest was a work of beauty—muscular, with brown male nipples peaked in protest to his cool body temperature, and a spray of dark hair that had her fingers tingling with the instinct to touch. He had biceps that inspired the thought that he was strong enough to hold a woman and keep her safe from the world.

Katherine wondered what it would be like to feel those arms around her. Instantly embarrassment surged through her. She took a deep breath.

“Can you find a robe for him? His clothes are a mess.”

“Mine won’t fit. He’s a good four inches taller than I am,” Chad pointed out.

“Look in Uncle Jasper’s closet.”

Checking for broken ribs, she gently ran her hands down his torso. His smooth skin warmed beneath her fingers while his chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of peaceful sleep. His heartbeat vibrated against her palm, and she became more aware of her own pulse. It was as if there was an invisible connection between them, as if he knew her, and she knew him.

Katherine caught herself and rolled her eyes. Her lack of sleep was affecting her brain.

She needed to finish this, and the ruined trousers had to come off, she realized. After unbuckling the fine leather belt, she eased the zipper down two inches and paused. His stomach was taut and richly tan like the rest of him. She bit her lip. She’d uncovered his navel and the beginnings of dark hair on his lower abdomen.

Get on with it, silly, she thought. She clenched her jaw and pushed the zipper halfway down over his impressive masculinity and stopped abruptly. Her fingers grazed the most sensitive pleasurable part of him. Her hands were almost as close as a lover’s would be.

She jerked her shaking hands away. She just couldn’t do it. It was all in her mind. Nurses, doctors and rescue workers did this kind of thing all the time. They didn’t ogle. They just stripped people naked with no regard to privacy. It was their job. But Katherine couldn’t get past the intimacy of the situation. Her inappropriate thoughts made her feel like an intruder, a voyeur. She’d just have to let Chad finish undressing him.

“I found one of Jasper’s.” Chad held the robe out to her.

“Good. I’ll let you get his pants off and cover him with a blanket,” she said quickly. “We can leave the robe on the back of the sofa just in case he gets up later. Then I can finish checking his head.” I might want to get mine checked too, she thought.

Chad completed the job with a few groans and grunts. Katherine knelt near the man’s head and applied antiseptic to the wound. It must have stung, because he moaned. The sound tore at her. “It’s okay,” she murmured, stroking his forehead.

Alex lifted a hand toward his head. The pain was so incredible he was tempted to go back to sleep. But his bed suddenly seemed too short, and his head felt as though an explosion had gone off inside it. Then he heard a soft, feminine voice, felt cool, gentle hands, and smelled something sweet and sultry.

“I don’t think it needs stitches,” the female voice said. She talked with a lazy American drawl he couldn’t place. He struggled against the weight on his eyelids and willed them open.

She was blurry. He squinted his eyes, and the picture cleared. Wild auburn hair framed a solemn, cameo-featured face. Her expression was guileless and sincere. He recognized both qualities because they were so rare in his world. Her large gray eyes were wide with concern. For him? Yes, he decided, and the notion wrapped around him like a blanket.

Her skin was pale, almost alabaster perfect, except for the faint violet shadows beneath her eyes. And the sprinkling of freckles on her small nose.

“Freckles,” he muttered, wondering why he couldn’t recall her name.

Her pink mouth stretched into a sweet, sexy grin. “You must be okay if you can identify freckles.”

Alex wondered if she were a figment of his imagination. She looked real, smelled like temptation and had a voice that conjured up visions of lazy, hot afternoons spent in bed. He lifted his hand to her chin and watched her freeze. Her skin was silky smooth. And her lips, he thought, rubbing his thumb against them, were like rose petals. He frowned. “Why don’t I remember making love to you?”

Her eyes widened, and her face bloomed with color. “Because you haven’t,” she whispered.

Frowning again, he dropped his hand from her mouth. What a disappointment. He’d like to think something pleasurable had precipitated this horrendous headache. None of this made sense. Why was this woman in his bed? And why had his bed shrunk? He vaguely identified the pungent smell surrounding him. “Whiskey. Not Chenin Blanc.” Not the fine liquor to which he was accustomed.

Her large eyes blinked, and she cleared her throat. “Definitely not Chenin Blanc.”

The soft, unmistakable weight of feminine breasts pressed pleasantly against his arm. Who was she? The throb in his head increased, and he took a deep breath to fight it. He refused to close his eyes. He didn’t want to lose sight of her.

Her fine eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Get him a glass of water, Chad, please. Maybe he can take aspirin.”

He heard a low murmur of response but still kept his eyes on her. “Who are you?”

She brushed her hand soothingly over his forehead. “I’m Katherine, and you’re going to be okay. Here. Take some aspirin.”

He took the pills and almost blacked out from the pain when she propped his head to take a drink of water. The process exhausted him. He finally closed his eyes, wondering why he hadn’t made love to her.

“I think he’s gone back to sleep now,” Katherine said. His eyes were almost black, as dark as his hair. In those fleeting moments his dark searching gaze had a profound effect on her, as if he’d been looking for an anchor and decided she was it.

Katherine shook her head. No way. She had an entire month and a half left to manage her uncle’s resort. Her time and attention were spoken for.

“You think he’ll be okay?” Chad looked guilty.

Katherine’s heart softened toward her brother. He was at a tough stage in life: not quite man, not quite boy. The fact that their mother had just entered the blissful state of matrimony for the fifth time didn’t exactly help matters.

Katherine was convinced that underneath—way underneath—all his selfishness lay a heart of gold. She squeezed his arm. “He’ll be fine. And I think you did the right thing by bringing him here.” She paused, thinking of how her heart had tripped when the handsome stranger wrapped her in his warm gaze. There was something familiar, yet forbidden, about him.

She squared her shoulders. “But I want him out of here by tomorrow afternoon.”

When Alex awoke the next morning, he couldn’t decide which was worse: the crick in his neck or the teeth-clenching pain in his head. He looked around the unfamiliar room and felt confused. Then the events of the previous evening came back to him. Katherine and the young man named Chad. He hadn’t seen the bottle coming until it was too late. The wet trip over on the ferry. He rose stiffly.

Chad entered from another room. “So, how’s the head?”

Alex quirked his mouth. “In the future I’ll always associate the smell of cheap whiskey with pain.”

Chad grinned and offered a cup of coffee. “You and the rest of the world.”

He accepted it and took a drink. It was weaker than what he was accustomed to. “Thank you.”

“No. Thank you. I’m sorry about the bottle last night.” Chad shrugged his shoulders. “If there’s anything I can do…”

He glanced down at his bare chest and legs. “A shower and some clothes?”

Chad seemed glad to have something to do. “Sure. There’s a mechanic who takes care of the rides who’s about your size.” He headed for the front door. “And the bathroom is the second door on your right.”

“Chad,” Alex called. “Where am I?”

“Nowhere.”

Alex frowned.

“Well,” Chad amended quickly, “specifically, you’re on Pirate Island, population four hundred sixty-four on a busy day. This is a camping resort for families who want to get away from it all. And I say ‘all’ in the literal sense. We don’t even have a weekly newspaper, and the only way you can get here is by ferry.” Chad hooked his fingers in his pockets and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Elvis could live here in total obscurity. The place is dead.”

Alex was sure he’d misunderstood. “No newspaper?”

“None.”

“Radio or television station?”

“None.” Chad pushed open the door. “Don’t worry. We won’t keep you here. The noon ferry will be here before you know it.”

Alex stared after Chad thoughtfully. No newspaper. No media. No “Your Majesty.” An insane idea struck him. He immediately dismissed it. But as he took his shower and ate a bowl of cereal, it distracted him like a buzzing bee.

He called the palace collect and asked for Isabella. Though Alex felt distant from his three siblings, he felt the strongest connection with Isabella, probably because she was the closest in age and she didn’t stand on ceremony with him.

“Where are you?” she asked without preamble. “Jake called this morning and said you hadn’t arrived.”

“You haven’t mentioned this to Father.”

“No, but I would have if you hadn’t called in another hour. Jake asked where you were, then he rudely ordered me to keep my mouth shut. Your friend is—”

“—Jake’s an American, and he was right to ask you to keep quiet.”

“He didn’t ask,” she stiffly informed him.

Alex shook his head. This would have been easier if he could have talked to his longtime assistant, Max, but Max was in Tibet. “That’s beside the point. I’m on Pirate Island, North Carolina. I had some—” he paused only a second “—transportation difficulties. It’s a remote area. No media. They don’t even know who I am.”

“Sounds enthralling. When are you going to Jake’s?”

“I don’t know.” He looked around the simply furnished room and finally repeated his impulse out loud. “I was thinking of staying.”

Complete silence followed his statement, which was rare for Isabella. “You’re joking,” she finally said. “You wouldn’t last a week without your adoring servants.”

That nettled him. “I’ve handled tougher conditions than this.”

“But everybody always knew you were Prince Alexander Ferdinand Merrick de Moreno.”

True. That was what he loved and hated about Isabella—she always told the truth.

“Alex, face it. You’re a prince. When you take the throne, you’ll be a king. You’re good at being a ruler. It’s your identity.”

Familiar dissatisfaction rolled through him. He loved his country and took seriously his role as leader, but even leaders needed an occasional break. That was the purpose behind this monthlong vacation. A dozen practical objections to his staying on Pirate Island came to mind.

The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be just a man, though, won out. In that instant he made his decision. “Call Jake and give my regrets. He’ll understand. Have the rental car picked up in Charles City. I’ll see you in a month.”

“I don’t believe this. You’ll never last.”

Alex knew Isabella couldn’t resist a bet. “Shall we wager?”

“What?”

“If I don’t last a month, I’ll persuade Father to let you go to Monte Carlo with your wild friend Lucinda.”

“She’s not that wild,” Isabella corrected.

“If I stay, you make the same kind of trip—sans title.” While Alex wore his title like a cloak, Isabella used hers as a shield to get out of sticky situations.

“Deal.”

“Not a word to Mother or Father.”

“My lips are sealed. I’ll be too busy thinking about Monte Carlo.”

Alex smiled. “Just remember my nickname, dearest.”

“Prince of Steel? Ah, but even steel melts, Your High and Mightiness.” She paused, and her voice softened. “Take care. Au revoir, Alex.”

“Make that Al. Al Sanders.”

“Au revoir.” She hesitated. “Al.”

Twenty minutes later his new identity was firmly in place. From the tight fit of the borrowed jeans and T-shirt brought to him, Alex concluded the mechanic weighed about twenty pounds less than he did. He learned that Chad and Katherine’s uncle Jasper owned the campground but had recently experienced a heart attack. Katherine was nearly overwhelmed with the responsibility of the busy tourist season.

He also learned despite Chad’s stuttering and stammering that Katherine expected Alex to vacate the premises as soon as possible.

Alex, however, had other ideas. He wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to be a nonprince.

After all, it might never come again. He needed to be just a man. Katherine needed help. The solution seemed simple to him. And in the back of his mind, he wanted to learn more about the tough and tender lady with the rose-petal mouth.

Alex picked up a map of the resort complex and set out to make himself indispensable.

At nine o’clock that evening Katherine glanced up to find Al Sanders propped against the door of her uncle’s office. He should have been gone hours ago. Instead, he’d entertained some difficult customers by taking them sailing. The disgruntled couple had been charmed, the woman nearly melting into the cracks of the pavement.

Katherine couldn’t blame her. When Al looked into a woman’s eyes as though she were the only female in the world, he dissolved defenses more effectively than the Patriot missile. And those breathtakingly tight jeans could surely earn him a spot in the buns-of-steel calendar. Add in his hundred-dollar smile and masterful air, and Katherine was surprised women hadn’t started throwing their lingerie at him.

She was pretty sure Al Sanders was a con artist down on his luck, and she wanted him gone before he caused any trouble. The fact that he unsettled her and she couldn’t put her finger on why only added fuel to the fire.

It would have been much easier to kick his incredible derriere off the island if he hadn’t sold helium balloons and skipped dinner to sell cotton candy, she realized.

Remembering his injured head, she felt guilty. She motioned for him to sit and offered him some packaged bologna sandwiches and a soda. Maybe if she fed him, she wouldn’t feel so bad about sending him off.

“How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

But he looked a little green. She set some aspirin in front of him.

“Thank you.”

Katherine took a deep breath and sat in her uncle’s worn captain’s chair behind the old walnut desk. Her least favorite thing in the world was firing people. And although technically, she’d never hired Al, the process was still the same. Her palms were sweating.

She thought of how her uncle would handle this situation, pretended she was six feet tall instead of five foot three, and tried to forget that she was much more comfortable teaching first graders than managing this camping resort.

“Al, I appreciate how you’ve pitched in today. And I’ll be glad to pay you for your services,” she began, and twined her fingers together.

“That’s unnecessary. I wanted to thank you for your kindness last night.” Al glanced down at the sandwich. “This meat is unusual. It’s very good.”

Katherine blinked. “It’s bologna.”

He looked thoughtful. “I’ll have to remember that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You have an accent. Are you from England?”

“I’ve spent some time there.”

“Do you have a green card?” she asked, hoping for an easy out.

He stiffened. “I don’t need a green card.”

His manner was so cold and affronted, she had to resist the urge to apologize. Such pride, she thought. It was surpassed only by his confidence. She’d always resented tall, confident people.

Katherine tried the direct approach. “The next ferry leaves at ten o’clock. We’re booked for the night, but there are some nice hotels on the mainland.”

“You have a room available in your cabin. Chad tells me you’re short-staffed and this is the busy season. I’d like to work for room and board until the end of the month.”

Katherine mentally cursed her half brother and picked up a pencil. “Al, you arrived here last night, drunk and passed out. I don’t really see how I can hire you on that basis.”

“I arrived here passed out because I happened into a bottle of whiskey aimed for your brother’s head. I was not drunk.”

He stood and dropped the paper napkin into the trash. Then he looked directly at her. “Have you been unhappy with my performance today?”

Katherine leaned back in her chair. “Well, no.”

“Are you short-staffed?”

She resisted the urge to squirm. “Yes.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Take me on a trial basis.”

Her chest squeezed tight. What woman wouldn’t take him? He was the kind of man women made fools of themselves over. If she had erotic dreams, he would be the kind of lover she’d dream of. His hands would be slow and sure, his mouth both giving and ruthless, his voice low and urgent. She shivered.

“Trial basis,” she repeated weakly.

“Yes.” He glanced away from her, suddenly appearing tired. “I’m rather…”

“…down on your luck at the moment,” she supplied for him.

His dark eyes held wry, weary amusement. “So, you’re not only beautiful, you’re also perceptive.” He bent over the desk and took her fidgeting hand. “What have you got to lose?”

Katherine’s cheeks heated at the feeling of her hand enveloped within his larger one. Beautiful? Lord, he’s good, she thought. She pulled her hand away and cleared her throat.

She couldn’t say what tipped the scales in his favor. Maybe it was the fact that he’d worked so hard this afternoon. It might have been that she wondered if she’d misjudged him. What if he wasn’t a con man and needed help? Katherine was sensitive to unfairness, having taken too many cheap shots from the tabloids over her ex-husband’s affairs.

But what really affected her was the way his posture screamed confidence while his eyes revealed flashes of something deeper and more human.

“One week’s trial,” she finally said, and watched him relax slightly.

“You won’t regret it.”

Katherine gave a grim smile and prayed.

Katherine awoke to darkness and the sound of someone scratching on her window screen. After a moment of terror she recognized old Mr. Larson’s husky voice. He wanted to borrow fishing lures from her uncle and had forgotten Jasper was gone for the summer. Katherine promised to find them, and Mr. Larson said he’d be back in twenty minutes.

Pushing her hair from her face, she crept from her room to the hall closet. She shined the flashlight up the shelves to the top one and sighed. There sat the tackle box.

She tiptoed to the kitchen and grabbed a bar stool. After positioning it in front of the closet, she climbed on top and reached for the box.

“What are you doing?” a low voice said behind her.

Startled, Katherine gave a muffled squeak. The bar stool shifted. She panicked until the stool was steadied and a strong arm wrapped around her waist.

She took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“That’s what I asked you,” Al said. “Do you know what time it is?”

“No. And please don’t tell me. I’ve got to get fishing lures for Mr. Larson. He and Uncle Jasper always go fishing together this time of year.” She moaned. “They’d leave about four o’clock in the morning.”

“You’re close. It’s actually—”

“I said don’t tell me.”

His chuckle rumbled pleasantly out of the darkness. His arm felt warm around her. She’d rested her hand on it and could feel his flexed muscles. Her back absorbed the sensation of his hard chest pressed against her. His musky male scent made her lightheaded. The darkness covered them like a blanket, and their hushed voices made the situation feel oddly erotic.

“Let me go.”

“No. You might fall.”

She started to argue, then realized it would be faster just to grab the tackle box and get down. She turned around with the tackle box in her hand. Al took it, and before she could bend down, he picked her up. She clutched his shoulders and slid down his body, feeling his bare chest against her breasts. Her hair shimmied over one of his shoulders.

She looked into his face, and everything stopped. Her mind, her heart, her breath. Somewhere in her conscience the hint of a melody, stirring and poignant, teased her. At that moment all she could do was stand still inside his arms and watch.

With one arm still wrapped around her waist, he picked up the long lock of hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “It’s so long,” he mused.

Katherine’s mouth went dry. “I—I keep saying I’m going to cut it.”

“No, it’s you. Long red hair, slim little body, lots of warm smiles.”

She sucked in a deep, desperate breath. Laughing nervously, she tried to step back. “How do you know anything about me? You just met me.”

He released her slowly, and she could make out the intent look in his eyes even in the darkness. “You learn by watching and listening. I’ve done both.”

“Oh,” she said. She shook back the distracting hair, relieved to be out of his arms.

“Why are you managing this place on your own?” he asked.

“My uncle had a heart attack. I’m the only one he trusts.”

“But you don’t like it.”

That stopped her. “Does it show that much?” She sighed. “I teach first grade during the school year and head up the children’s programs for Pirate Island during the summer. Jasper’s heart attack caught all of us by surprise.” She shrugged. “I may not be a wonderful manager, but I think with a little help I can hold things together until he decides what he wants to do.”

“It’s a heavy responsibility.”

“Yeah.” Katherine grinned and picked up the tackle box. “But I’m tough.”

He put his hand on hers. “Let me take that.”

“I can handle it,” she insisted.

“I’m sure you can.”

Katherine stared at him to see if he was making fun of her. But his gaze was serious. “Okay. Just put it on the front porch, please.”

She set the barstool back in the kitchen. “See ya in the morning,” she whispered.

“That will be in about two hours,” Al said.

Katherine moaned. “Don’t rub it in.”

After she closed her door and settled into bed, Katherine stared at the ceiling. She wasn’t sure about Al Sanders. Too many things didn’t add up.

Who was he? Why was he staying on Pirate Island? Why did she care? She wrestled with the questions until she finally fell asleep.

Then she dreamed she danced in the dark. She couldn’t quite make out the face of her partner, but his shoulders were broad, his arms strong, and the music she heard touched a tender, vulnerable place inside her.