Scandal With a Prince (Royal Scandals) by Burnham Nicole

Author:Burnham, Nicole [Burnham, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Stefano stole a look at Megan before drinking in the sight of his sleeping daughter. Half of Anna’s hair remained captured atop her head in a bright purple ponytail holder while the rest hung in messy chunks over her face, which was planted just above Megan’s left knee. Anna’s expression as Megan rubbed her back was one of quiet bliss.

Damn if he wasn’t jealous of a kid.

From the moment he’d spotted Megan in the crowd outside La Boqueria, a lopsided, half-awake smile on her face and her hair gleaming in the early morning light, he’d itched to touch her. He’d fought the urge to put his hand at the small of her back to guide her along the aisles as they’d wandered the market after breakfast, even going so far as walking with his hands in his pockets and keeping Anna between them to act as a buffer.

But then she’d paused to purchase a bar of soap and the fresh green scent, one forever intermingled in his mind with the heat of their shared shower, overrode his common sense. He’d leaned in close. He’d flirted. And when she’d spun face him, he’d seen desire in her gaze.

If Anna hadn’t returned to ask about the silly pink candle, he’d have kissed Megan then and there.

He’d managed the cathedral and the chocolate museum without giving in to her pull. It was easier outside the confines of the market, with its rich smells and romantic atmosphere. But there’d been a moment late in the afternoon when he’d caught a view of Megan from the side that made him ache. They’d offered to wait under a Gothic arch while Anna scampered across the street to drop a Euro in a musician’s open violin case. The sun streamed between the buildings and through the stone arch at such an angle that it shone through Megan’s soft blue irises, making them sparkle like crystal as she’d watched her daughter look both ways, then cross the narrow street.

Their daughter.

It was all he could do not to draw Megan close and kiss her on the forehead, just under the stray strands of hair twisting along her temple, and tell her how fortunate he felt. How amazing and miraculous it was that they shared this vivacious girl. How much he wanted to be with them—with her—and spend all his weekends this way. Instead, he’d turned away, allowing the moment to pass.

When they’d returned to La Rambla at dusk, tiny lights looped through the trees that grew down the center of the boulevard sparkled to life. The scent of roasting chestnuts floated through the air. Young adults gathered around tables in cafes on either side of the cobblestone street while lovers strolled past, arms around each other’s waists. He saw Megan’s gaze follow one young couple and thought of gently taking her hand in his—an easy, natural gesture given their surroundings—but she’d drifted away to admire a piece of art in a store window.

She wasn’t playing hard to get, as other women he’d been with liked to do.

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