Always - Iris Johansen [42]
She frowned. “But I don’t want to go sightseeing. I’d rather stay with you.”
He glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on the unconfined swell of her breasts beneath the silk blouse. Then, with an effort, he averted his eyes. “You should have thought of that before you initiated your little goad, acushla. I wouldn’t last five minutes with you in the back of the limousine, and then all my arrangements would go down the drain.” He paused. “As it is, I might just last until tonight if I get to the cockpit in the next two seconds.” He walked quickly down the aisle.
–––
It wasn’t a Middle Eastern palace, but a medieval castle complete with drawbridge, turrets, and a wall to keep out potential invaders. The magnificent anomaly sat squarely in the middle of the Sedikhan desert when it should have occupied a cliff in the British countryside.
“What’s the drawbridge for?” Lisa asked blankly. “There’s no moat.”
The blue-and-white helicopter Clancy was piloting hovered, dipped, and then settled on the flagstones of the courtyard. “The castle was built by one of Lance Rubinoff’s more flamboyant ancestors, who decided he was homesick for Tamrovia.” His lips curved in a half smile. “He must have been a great deal like Lance, because it apparently didn’t make the slightest difference to him that the idea wasn’t exactly practical.”
“Tamrovia? That’s a small monarchy in the Balkans, isn’t it?” Clancy had made passing mention of Prince Lance Rubinoff, who was Alex’s cousin, but he hadn’t gone into any detail. “It’s ruled by a King Stefan. I read something about it in National Geographic.”
Clancy nodded. “Stefan is Lance’s older brother. There have been close diplomatic ties between the two countries for decades, but no familial ones until Alex’s father married Sheikh Karim’s daughter.” He turned off the ignition and opened the door of the helicopter. “Lance found the atmosphere at Sedikhan much more to his liking than Tamrovia and settled here with his wife, Honey. Brother Stefan is a bit of a stuffed shirt, evidently.”
And Lance Rubinoff definitely was not. What Lisa had read about him had been in the gossip columns, not the National Geographic. He had been the darling of the tabloids with his scandalous love affairs and wild pranks before he was married. Lately his name had appeared more often in the art section as his reputation as an artist had skyrocketed. “This is Lance’s castle?”
“No; he uses it occasionally, but it actually belongs to Sedikhan. It was lost to Alex’s great-grandfather in a poker game.” He lifted her down to the flagstones of the courtyard. “No one is really fond of the old place except Kira, and she’s in Tamrovia right now.”
“Kira?”
“Princess Kira Rubinoff, Lance’s younger sister.” He frowned. “Can’t we drop the family history bit? I didn’t bring you here to regale you with stories of the Rubinoff dynasty.”
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked with a teasing grin. “I haven’t seen you at all since we arrived in Marasef this afternoon, until John delivered me back at the airport. Then you flew me off in the helicopter to this Ivanhoe’s castle. I definitely feel swept off my feet.”
“That’s how I wanted you to feel,” he said quietly, and made a gesture toward the castle. “I thought we’d spend a few months by ourselves before I dropped you into the social whirl in Marasef. Its towers aren’t ivory, but I thought it made a fitting background for a princess all the same. I wanted to give you that.”
What a touching gesture. Lisa felt tears sting her eyes. “But I don’t have the princess mentality anymore. I just want to be a woman.” She repeated his own words softly, “A woman with character and dignity.”
“I knew I’d blow it. What can you expect when an old war horse like me tries to play Galahad?”
“You didn’t blow it. It was a beautiful,