Royally Claimed

chapter 10

JULIA WASN’T SURE ABOUT going to the rim of any volcano, dormant or not, but a few minutes later, Frank stopped the motorcycle in a small parking lot above the town.

“There’s a lake in the volcano.” Julia had thought it would be a gaping crater. “It’s beautiful.” The water was a deep, dark blue, sparkling under the sun.

“I’m glad you like it. The volcano is cooking our lunch.” He tugged her along.

“We’re not roasting hot dogs over it, are we?”

“Much more fancy.”

Around the corner was another moonscape of crusted white land. Apparently this was safe for walking, since a handful of elderly men stood around on it smoking cigarettes, as if the sulfur fumes weren’t enough. Black mounds of dirt dotted the flat area like giant anthills.

One man spotted Frank and called out enthusiastically. Frank waved in response. “Come meet our chefs.”

“Chefs?”

He tugged her along across the crunchy soil—almost as if they were walking on a frozen lake and she wasn’t sure if it would hold them. And she could swear the soles of her shoes were getting hotter as they went.

Frank greeted the men and introduced her to them, remembering each of their first and last names, and with Portuguese names, that was several apiece. The men were clearly flattered at being remembered by the Duke of Santas Aguas and treated her as if she were a princess. Or a duchess. “A pleasure, senhorina.” One man—she thought his name was José—gave her a little bow and gestured at the black mound closest to them. “We bring food out here at five o’clock this morning.”

A couple men busied themselves with a shovel, clearing the dirt away to reveal a pail with a lid. Another man hooked a hoe into the lid handle and lifted what looked like a five-gallon metal bucket.

“Here’s our lunch.”

“Oh, um, are we picnicking here?” Julia looked around for somewhere to sit. She couldn’t even smell what lunch might be.

Frank translated her question and the men laughed good-naturedly. “José says if he sits on the ground he is not getting back up again,” Frank told her, pointing at José who clutched comically at his back and limped for a few steps. “No, we are going to his house to eat with him and his family.”

The men wrapped the pail in a couple of old horse blankets and Frank helped lug it to the parking lot. He pretended to lift it onto the back of the motorcycle as if to drive it to José’s house and the old men laughed again. The Duke of Santas Aguas was obviously a well-admired young man.

The pail made it safely into a compact car’s backseat, and the caravan of cars and motorcycle wound down the hill to a pretty white-washed two-story house. José honked the horn to announce that the ducal procession had arrived, and an older woman came out the front door, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She wore glasses and had short, reddish-brown hair that puffed slightly around her face.

From the way she gestured and scolded José, Julia guessed that she was his wife. The men bore the pail into the house under her strict supervision, and then she turned to Frank. “Your Grace. Welcome to our home.” She even curtsied a bit. It was the first time Julia’d seen anyone treat Frank so formally, and it reminded her that he was indeed a powerful nobleman, cousin to Portuguese royalty, and accustomed to much finer things in life than she was.

Frank bowed back and took the woman’s hand in greeting. “It is our honor to be here, Senhora Magdalena.” He introduced her to Julia, holding the older lady’s hand the whole time.

“Please come in, Your Grace, Senhorina Julia.” Magdalena gestured toward the back of the house. “I must make sure the men are not ruining our lunch.”

“Of course. What would we men do without the ladies to watch over us?”

Magdalena gave a surprisingly young-sounding giggle at Frank’s gallantry. He furthered his reputation as a gentleman by tucking Magdalena’s hand into his left elbow and reaching for Julia’s for his right side.

The three of them entered the house. The living room was small but stuffed with comfortable-looking furniture, and the dark wood dining room table was set with what had to be the good china, white with pink pastel roses around the rims.

José poked his head out of the kitchen. “Hey, Don Franco, you already got a pretty girl, leave mine alone!”

“José!” Magdalena hissed, mortified at her husband’s lack of respect for their noble guest. She let go of Frank’s arm and burst into a torrent of Portuguese, waving her dishtowel at her husband’s head.

The older man just laughed and ducked, obviously used to baiting his wife. She chased him into the kitchen and appeared a moment later, smoothing her ruffled dignity with a serene smile. “Would you like to see the opening of the cozido?”

“I’d love to,” answered Julia. She might need an extra few minutes to bolster her courage for eating their mystery-meat lunch.

The kitchen was a smaller version of the one in Frank’s villa, dark wood and tiled walls. The pail sat on the center island, surrounded by more women—probably the wives of the men she’d met up at the caldera. The men leaned against the countertops, joking with each other. José put on oven mitts and popped the lid. They all sighed in pleasure as a delicious scent immediately filled the room.

Julia breathed out a sigh of relief, as well. Pork, if she wasn’t mistaken. She could handle that. Magdalena reached into the pail with tongs and started pulling out tender chunks of meat, wedges of cabbage, potatoes and other vegetables and plump brown loops of sausage.

Julia’s mouth watered. “So the pail acts as a slow cooker and the volcano supplies the heat?”

Frank nodded. “And it’s first come, first served to the hot pits where you bury the food. That’s why José got there at five this morning to make sure he got a good spot.”

“All that work for us?”

José overheard her question. “No work, just an honor. The Duke, he is very good to our little islands.”

Magdalena chipped in, “He paid for the school playground, new roof for the church, bus for the handicapped children, new machines at the hospital—”

Frank waved his hands. “Please, please, you’re embarrassing me.” His cheeks were turning ruddy, and Julia smiled.

She decided to take the focus off Frank to let him recover from the shower of well-deserved praise. “Magdalena, you speak very good English.” Julia carried a platter of cozido to the table and set it where the older woman indicated.

“She should,” said José, pouring a rich red wine into the goblets. “We lived in Falls River, Massachusetts, for thirty years. They say Falls River is the eighth island of the Azores since so many of us moved there when we were young.” The other men nodded.

Magdalena shooed everyone into a chair. She and José sat at the head and foot of the table. Julia sat between José and Frank and the other couples filled in to make about fourteen people at the table.

Julia smiled at their host. “Of course, Falls River.” It was a heavily Azorean enclave famous for its good food and rich culture. “I live in Boston now, but my parents retired back here. We lived here briefly when I was young—on the Air Force base.”

“Eh, we all move back and forth between Massachusetts and the Azores. If you lived here when you were a kid, you already an Azorean, right?”

“Well…” She’d need to learn Portuguese much better to get away with that claim. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“Just the truth.” José tapped his wineglass. “A toast.” The table obediently quieted. “A toast to Don Franco, Duke of Santas Aguas, who grew into a fine man like his father and grandfather before him. They would be proud.”

Frank blinked in emotion, but José wasn’t done yet. “And to the lovely Senhorina Julia, an Azorean-American beauty. Welcome home!”

It was Julia’s turn to blush, and she gave what she hoped was a gracious nod to the cheers and claps. She sipped at her wine and filled her plate with juicy pork chunks, sausage and fork-tender cabbages and potatoes. The conversation dimmed as they ate their lunch, but grew in volume as the wine flowed and the eating slowed. It was a mix of English on her behalf and fast Azorean Portuguese. Weather, politics, the local economy were all hot topics that brought out fervent gestures and much fork-pointing.

During one particularly vigorous argument, Julia leaned over to Frank. “I didn’t know you were such a philanthropist.”

He grimaced. “I tried to stay anonymous, but Benedito likes to brag about me. He and his wife have three daughters, so I’m the closest thing he has to a son.”

“But that’s so sweet.”

“No, you are.” He caught her hand under the table and squeezed. She squeezed back and he smiled at her, his eyes like melted chocolate.

No, Frank was sweet. Sweet to her, his friends, their hosts who respected him for being a decent man more than just a duke. Nobility was an accident of birth, but good character was no accident.

She realized they had been staring into each other’s eyes for quite a while when the table quieted. She and Frank broke eye contact and Julia stared at her plate, her cheeks hot.

Conversation quickly picked up, but Julia caught a twinkle in José’s eye and quickly hidden smiles from the women.

Goo-goo eyes and holding hands at a table full of doting Azoreans—phone lines would be burning hotter than the volcano ten seconds after they left.

Frank gave her hand one last squeeze and picked up his wine glass. “I would like to propose a toast to our host José and his lovely wife Magdalena for inviting us into their home, and to all of you as well for welcoming Julia and me to Furnas. Saude! Cheers!”

His sentiments were echoed amidst the clink of goblets. Madgalena brought out a huge American-style chocolate cake and traditional pastries. Julia had to decline a second dessert. “I don’t want to tip over the motorcycle.”

“A little girl like you,” Madgalena scoffed, clearing away a plate. “Me, on the other hand…” She patted her well-rounded hip.

José grabbed her around the waist. “More of you to love, meu bem. And there are other things to ride.” He wiggled his bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows.

“Oh, you!” She swatted at him with her dishtowel, blushing fiercely.

“What? Like a bicycle. Or a car. Or a donkey.”

“I’ll give you a donkey!” Magdalena gave him one last smack with the towel before flouncing off to the kitchen, José’s uproarious laughter in her wake.

Julia smiled at their comfortable relationship, much like her parents. Maybe that was why she’d never gotten terribly serious about any of the men she’d dated. They had been pleasant men but she’d never felt truly at ease with them. She hadn’t been able to imagine herself years in the future, older and plumper, pouring wine, setting out a nice dinner for them and their friends.

She offered to help in the kitchen but was roundly rebuffed for being a guest. Frank chatted with the men for a while, but then stood and made his goodbyes, reminding Julia they still had to run their errands and get back to Belas Aguas before dark.

They put on their jackets and helmets and rode away with a roar, waving goodbye until they turned the corner.

The earlier haze had burned off and the mountains were even greener as they rode along, reminding her of photos of Hawaii with its rich volcanic soil.

Frank was warm and solid in her arms, and she wished they were back on the boat so she could hold him face-to-face. As they got farther away from Furnas, she could swear that he was hitting bumps on purpose. Every time he hit a bumpy spot, the throbbing between her thighs increased, and her hands tightened on him. Once they got back to the boat, she would free him from his pants and take him inside her, make him relieve her aching desire.

He found a spot in the road that probably hadn’t been paved since her first trip to the Azores and she let out a moan. The road, the throbbing of the engine, the sly touches and teasing…

Frank unexpectedly slowed and pulled into a narrow country lane. He drove the bike under a canopy of hanging trees and shut off the engine. The sound of the countryside gradually returned to her ears as they adjusted to the sudden silence.

He swiveled on the bike and flipped up his visor. “Julia, are you in pain? I didn’t realize this road was in such poor condition.”

“No, Frank, I’m fine.” She fought to bring her breathing under control and waved a hand.

He didn’t believe her. “Let me see your face.” He popped off her helmet. “You’re all flushed, and your eyes are hazy.”

“I’m fine.” She just wanted to get back to the boat and have her wicked way with him.

A devilish smile spread across her face and he unzipped her jacket. “Your nipples are hard, Julia.” He ran his palm over each breast. “And if I were to touch here, would you be wet?” He slipped his fingers along the center seam of her jeans. “Soaking wet. I think our bumpy ride turned you on.”

Her face flushed even hotter. “Get me to the boat and you’ll find out.”

“No, I think I’ll find out here.” He unbuttoned her shirt and flipped open the front clasp of her bra. The cool woodsy air tightened her nipples into hard little buds.

“Frank.” She half gasped, half moaned at the sensation of the breeze on her bare skin. “What if someone comes?”

He backed her up so she rested against a big tree. “I hope more than one person comes,” he joked, bending to take her into his mouth, and then all joking was finished. His mouth was hot and wet, like a mineral spring bubbling around her. He licked and nibbled at each swollen tip. She cried out and clutched his head with one hand and the tree with another.

He chuckled and slid his hand between her legs, rubbing at the damp fabric, pressing the thick seam up into her throbbing flesh. Shockingly, she started to climax from just that stimulation in addition to the bike’s vibration. She tried to fight it, wanted to wait, but he rubbed harder and sucked her breast deep, pinching the other nipple as she came. Her head fell back and she moaned in pleasure.

He finally slowed and looked up at her. “God, you’re beautiful. And so sexy. I bet you were almost ready to come on that bike, weren’t you?”

She nodded, her face red with embarrassment and desire. Despite her climax, she was still wound up, still on edge.

He stood, his jeans bulging in the front. “And you’re ready to come again, aren’t you?”

“Frank.” His name came out in a strangled groan, and he laughed.

“How would you like it this time, Julia?” He rested his hands on either side of her face. “Do you want me to take you against the tree? Or do you want me to lie down so you can ride me like the bike? You pick.”

“But Frank, are you sure we’re alone out here?”

He stopped and listened. The birdsong had returned after the noise of the engine disappeared, and there were no other sounds to indicate company. “Nobody but us.” He kissed her, cupping her breast until she arched against his palm. “Tell me, sweet Julia—the tree, or like the motorcycle?”

“The bike.” She blushed again. It was dangerous and naughty to do this, not too far off the road. But, oh, was it sexy.

“Good.” He pulled a folded picnic blanket off the back of the motorcycle and spread it on the ground. Her legs were still wobbly, so she waited for him to return. She kicked off her shoes and he undid her jeans, pulling them off but leaving her tiny black satin panties on.

Julia took off the heavy jacket and her blouse and bra, setting them aside. Frank picked up the jacket. “Wear this.”

She slipped into the jacket and started to zip it, but he stopped her. “Leave it open. I want to see your pretty white tits against the black leather. If you’re a good girl, you can ride back to the boat like that, your nipples rubbing the leather.”

Her knees almost buckled again and he gave her a wicked smirk. His jeans came off quickly and she saw how he strained against his briefs. She reached into the waistband and freed his hard cock as he groaned with relief. “That’s it, Julia. I’ve been aching for you for hours.”

She wrapped her fingers around him, marveling again at his length and heft. He was dark brown with ropy veins struggling along his shaft, his head a deep plum, engorged with blood. As she gently squeezed him, a silvery bead formed on the tip.

Impulsively, she dropped to her knees on the picnic blanket and flicked the droplet with her tongue. He let out an agonized moan, his fingers digging into her scalp. “No, no, no. Oh, not that. I won’t be able to—”

She cut off his words when her lips closed over him. He rocked back on his heels in shock as she sucked him hard. Up and down she bobbed her head, his salty taste coating her tongue and his musky scent filling her nostrils. She cupped his heavy sac with both hands and petted him, enjoying his gasps of pleasure. Her own secret places pulsed in time to his, her panties dampening as she got caught up in his pleasure.

He jerked inside her mouth and she thought for a second that he was going over the edge. Instead he held her head still. “Stop,” he gritted out, pulling away from her. He lay down on the blanket and tugged her toward him.

She crawled up his body, her breasts swaying free from the jacket. His eyes widened in appreciation. “That is exactly what I had in mind.” He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, and she nearly collapsed on him. “Please, Franco.”

“Come, ride on me.” He helped her straddle his thighs, tugging her panties to one side to expose her wet center. He stroked her *, and she jerked in response. “Oh, yes, you’re ready for me.”

She found the strength to push up and then, with his fingers guiding his engorged shaft, sank deep onto his full length.

They both cried out. He pulsed inside her, and she couldn’t help spasming around him. He groaned. “Do that again.”

She squeezed her little muscles again. He stroked her * at the same time and she started to come again, panting and moaning on him as his dark eyes glittered with triumph.

She finally caught her breath. “Darn you, Frank, I wasn’t ready.”

“Your body thought otherwise.” He began thrusting up into her, his powerful hips easily leveraging their weight.

“But I’ve never come so fast—not at the tree, and not like this.”

“Good.” If she thought he was triumphant a minute earlier, he looked positively savage. “You are mine, and only I can make you feel like this.” He caught her waist in his big hands and lifted her up and down until she caught his rhythm. He was heavenly inside her, slipping up and down until she could feel every glorious inch of him, stretching and filling her.

He moved his hands to her satin-covered bottom and squeezed the tender cheeks. “I would like to see you on my motorcycle like this—did I tell you I have a big American motorcycle at my estate in Portugal? I would start the engine and put you on the seat wearing panties and my leather jacket.”

Julia groaned. She’d never seen motorcycles as being particularly sexy until today. “Then what?” she whispered.

“Then I open the jacket and play with your pretty tetas.” His long fingers stroked her breasts, going from her collarbones down to where he cupped their full weight. He teased and pulled at her nipples until they were long and diamond-hard, darkened with excitement. All the while, he pistoned in and out of her. Her panties tugged and rubbed at her bottom as his cock brushed her *. The constant pressure and friction was arousing her to a fever pitch. It was easy to imagine the erotic motorcycle fantasy since Frank still wore his tight T-shirt and dark jacket. Seeing him still clothed while she was almost naked was a huge turn-on, as if she’d ripped off her own clothing and the bare minimum of his, just to have her way with him.

Which was mostly true.

“Tell me what you want, Julia. I will do anything to please you, to satisfy you.” Frank’s deep, sexy voice continued, his accent thickening as he fought to keep from coming. Drops of sweat beaded on his temples and ran into his thick hair.

“I want you to talk to me.” His words were almost as arousing as his body.

He laughed. “I like to talk. Nice weather, eh?” His teasing expression told her he knew exactly what she wanted.

Her face heated. “Talk dirty to me, Frank.” Her bluntness was rewarded by his groan.

“Oh, Julia, if you knew the things I want to do to you, you would run screaming.”

“Or maybe come screaming,” she panted.

He groaned again. “You asked for it.” He pinched her nipples again. “I want to lick you here.” He stroked her *. “And here. And all over your pale, soft body. I want to tie you to my bed and make you scream in pleasure. I want your hot, wet mouth to suck me dry and then lick me until I harden again and beg for more.”

Julia started to shake, her mind and body reeling from his physical and verbal onslaught, but he wasn’t finished. “I want to make love to you in my house in Portugal, in my barns, my stables, my vineyards, my motorcycle, my truck, my car. Everywhere I go, I want my cock to harden as I remember how I entered you, how I pleased you. I want to remember the sound of our damp skin slapping together as I enter you, the scent of our joining, your face as you come.”

He continued murmuring to her in the soft consonants and liquid vowels of his native language, but the images he’d planted in her head were more than enough. She tossed her head back and cupped her breasts, playing with her nipples. He called out his appreciation and caressed the sensitized nub where their bodies joined. His shaft pumped inside her, hitting deeper than ever before. He kneaded her bottom, his heavy balls tightening against her, rising up to meet her.

“Ah, Julia, please…” he begged, the tendons in his neck standing out as he strained to hold back. Suddenly, she wanted his mouth on her breast and leaned forward. He eagerly captured the hard point between his lips and nipped.

The painful pleasure snapped her tenuous control and she exploded around him, her inner muscles capturing and squeezing him from root to tip. He called her name in a hoarse voice as his orgasm hit and slammed up into her, his hands gripping her around the waist as he pumped in and out of her eager body, slick and wet and as on fire for her as she was for him.

It seemed to last forever, but ended too quickly. He helped her ease off him and tucked her into his side.

Julia couldn’t help admiring his still-firm erection, dark and glossy with their juices. What would it feel like the next time? She stopped herself—she was getting too greedy for him. All his talk about bringing her to Portugal and sexing her up silly at his estate was just talk—although she would have liked to try the motorcycle. She would like to do all the things he wanted her to do, in all the places he wanted to do them. Her greedy flesh gave an unexpected throb at the idea and she shivered.

He noticed. “Cold?”

“No.” She laughed. They were both sweating, despite the cooler air under the trees. He was still hard, and his fantasy about licking him clean until he was ready to go again seemed very plausible.

A car passed on the road below, and she stiffened in alarm. “What if someone comes up here?”

He listened for a second, and then relaxed when the engine passed. “We are quite safe.” His gaze fell to her half-naked body, her nipples still hard and tight. “Although you may not be. I hear there is a sex-crazed duke wandering the islands, and he absolutely loves dark-haired beauties with perfect breasts and round, white bottoms.”

“Oh, Frank.” She pushed at his chest, inordinately pleased that he thought she had perfect breasts. As for the round, white bottom, well, she’d take that as a compliment, too. “If the duke gets caught naked in the woods, there might be a royal scandal.”

He laughed. “It has been a while since you lived in the Azores. I am a young, single man and can get away with almost anything. You’ve heard the phrase ‘Boys will be boys’?”

“Yes.” She wrinkled her nose. She’d always disliked that phrase, as well.

“The islanders would gossip if we were caught, of course, but they know a beautiful, sexy woman is staying with me on my island. I bring her to lunch and they see for themselves how I can’t keep my hands off you. It would be no surprise to them that I drag you into the woods and have my wicked, ducal way with you.” His erection, which had been fading, started to rise again.

She was getting excited again too. “Your Grace,” she teased, “I believe your wicked ways are showing again.”

“You’re right.” He shifted to his side and pulled her underneath him. “You make me insatiable, and I am going to take you again.” He settled between her thighs, his cock nudging aside her panties.

He entered her without asking, and she caught a glimpse of how his ancestors must have seduced and plundered their concubines. If they had been anything like Frank, those young women must have been as eager as Julia was to surrender.

Her knees fell open and his thrusts were excitingly slick from their previous encounter. She couldn’t help responding to his possession of her body and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He stopped and hooked her knees over his shoulders, changing the whole angle. Her bottom was up off the ground, their bodies where they joined blatantly revealed.

“Frank,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No, I want to see how you take me in. I want to see your soft pink petals turn rosy with lust. Already, I can see you swell and throb.” He stroked around her *, never quite touching her there.

“But, Frank…” Her protest fell off as he pressed her *. “Ohhh…”

He laughed and slowly pumped in and out of her. “You want me to take you. You want me to hold you as my captive. You came to my island just for that, knowing I wouldn’t let you go once I had you again. You brought an overnight bag, knowing that you would willingly submit if I took you that night. Your body rules you now—and my body rules you now.”

She gave a little gasp, knowing he was right. His lazy, measured strokes were igniting a fire in her that only he could quench. And since he’d just climaxed, she knew he could go a long time.

“Say it,” he coaxed, brushing her nipple with a feather-light touch. “Don’t worry about being a modern, independent woman. Admit that you want me to make you respond like you never have before.”

“I admit it.” She swallowed hard. “I know you won’t hurt me, so I want you to do whatever you want. Wherever you want.”

“Good.” His sudden grin made her laugh. “You can come now.”

Julia did, obeying the duke’s command. He was as merciless as his ancestors must have been, his hips pumping into her as she shook and cried out in ecstasy. His cheeks were dark with barely restrained lust, his eyes glittering black but he only paused to lower her legs to the blanket.

She took a deep, shaky breath as he slipped from her. “But what about you, Frank?” He was obviously still aroused to a fever pitch.

He gave her a sly smile. “This is the second part of my motorcycle fantasy.” He helped her to stand and walk over to the motorcycle. “Face the bike and rest your hands on the seat.” Julia’s eyes widened as she realized what he wanted to do but couldn’t resist the crazy idea, couldn’t resist him.

She did as she was told and she felt his strong thighs rasp her bottom as he positioned himself behind her. Big hands pulled her leather jacket open and cupped her breasts, and his thick, slick cock entered her again.

He hissed in pleasure and began slamming into her, his fingers teasing her breasts, her *, her bottom. He nipped her earlobe, licked the side of her neck. Incredibly, she tightened with pleasure again—after three climaxes.

He pushed deep inside her, hitting the perfect spots with his tip. He was a masterful lover and Julia couldn’t get enough of him.

“I’m such a brute to use you this way,” he murmured into her ear. “Tonight I’ll run a hot bath for you and carry you to bed. Let me kiss you all better—all over.”

She groaned. Frank’s lips and tongue on her pulsing, sensitive flesh sounded like a dream come true.

He laughed. “All you’ll have to do is lie back and enjoy it. All you have to do is come under my mouth…”

“Frank…” The syllable trailed off into a scream as her strongest climax yet broke over her. Her nails dug into the bike seat and she pushed back into his luscious shaft. He gave a harsh shout and exploded into her, pumping frantically as her body rocked around him. Her nipples rubbed the leather as her breasts swayed. Her whole body trembled in pleasure as she braced her hand on his rock-hard thigh.

He eased them down so she lay in his arms on the picnic blanket.

“Are you all right, Julia?” His brow creased into worry. “Was it too much for you?”

She stretched, feeling nothing but a welcome fatigue. “I feel wonderful, and if we didn’t need to ride farther on that bike, I might have you do it all over again.”

His face broke into a grin. “Insatiable wench.” He kissed the top of her messy hair and took a long, leisurely stare down her body. “I think I need to buy you some black leather clothing of your own.”

Naughty images of Frank wearing motorcycle chaps and nothing else popped into her mind. “Only if you get some for yourself.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “I already do.”

She decided to change the subject. “I didn’t expect your friends to be so nice to me, especially the women.”

He gave her a strange look. “Why ever not? You are a nice person, they are nice people. Most everybody here is friendly.”

“Yes, but…” She wasn’t sure how to describe it. “The local Duke sleeping with an American woman.”

“Somebody said that to you?” Frank’s face darkened.

“No, Frank, nobody said anything. Nobody even gave me a funny look.” But she bet his mother and sisters would have had something to say if Frank had ever brought her home to them. Eleven years ago, Julia had been too young and naive to manage well in such a foreign environment, and now…maybe she was too old and jaded.

“Are you sure?” He was still wound up for battle. “Because I won’t tolerate anyone insulting you. Not here, not anywhere.”

Wow. She knew he had a protective streak but had never seen it directed toward others on her behalf before. “I’m sure. José’s family was lovely, and they adore you.”

He relaxed a bit and grinned. “And I am sure as soon as we left, they were on the phone to fill in Benedito back home. He keeps better tabs on me than my mother ever did.”

“From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you needed it.”

“Maybe when I was younger, but now he would definitely be in the way.” Frank stretched and rolled out from under her. “As much as I hate to say it, we should get dressed and go.”

She gave the dappled green clearing a wistful look before reaching for her clothes. Their little Eden would linger in her memory for a long time.

“Such a shame to cover yourself up.” He shook his head mournfully. “That is why I want to get you back to Belas Aguas so we can be truly alone.”

Julia stopped in the middle of dressing. She was an expert on being alone, an expert on loneliness. Being alone with Frank was a misnomer—the time they spent together, just the two of them, was everything, the perfect connection with another human being that she’d longed for and never thought she’d have again.

She cupped his cheeks and kissed him sweetly, tenderly. “Thank you, Franco. Thank you for everything.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, her heart filling with the love she’d pushed away for so long. Her uncomplicated spring fling was certainly more complicated than she’d bargained for.



AN HOUR LATER, AFTER zipping along the road back to her parents’ apartment, Julia unlocked their door and pushed it open, wrinkling her nose at the musty air.

“How are your aunt and uncle this week, Julia?” Frank glanced around the apartment to make sure it was still in one piece, checking under the sink for leaks and making sure the fridge was still running. “Is your aunt still in the hospital?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” She beamed at him and his heart thumped. “I called Boston yesterday and they’re both doing well. My uncle’s broken leg is starting to heal nicely and my aunt is doing much better since her ribs stopped hurting so much. The home health nurses and physical therapists are visiting several times a week to make sure they keep up their strength.”

“I’m glad to hear they’re recovering. Have your parents set a date for their return?”

She found a bottle of orange soda in the fridge and took a sip. “Ah…all that motorcycle riding makes me thirsty.” She winked at him and his heart flipped to see her dark curly hair wild over the leather jacket. “I don’t think they can come back for a couple more weeks. Once my uncle can move more easily and doesn’t need as much help with daily activities, my mom and dad will consider it. Anyway, my mom is grabbing the chance to visit some of her old friends and go shopping for new summer clothes. My dad has the keys to my condo so he’s probably hanging out there just to catch a break once in a while. I have many TV channels.”

When the topic of her father came up, Frank still got the same embarrassed feeling that he had when he’d been a teenager. Sure, he and Julia were adults, but once Frank had a daughter, he’d knock any man on his butt who looked at her like Frank looked at Julia. If he ever had a daughter.

They heard a tapping sound and turned. Her parents’ landlord Senhor de Sousa stood in the doorway. Frank greeted him in Portuguese, asking how he was.

“Fine, fine,” he replied, taking a deep breath as if climbing the stairs had taxed his strength.

Julia gave her neighbor a narrow glance that Frank didn’t understand. Was she angry at the man for stopping by?

But she invited him in and smiled at him, the wariness never leaving her eyes. “A hot day today, isn’t it?”

Senhor de Sousa wiped his brow, which suddenly looked pale and clammy. “Yes, hot.” Then he dropped his English and lapsed into gibberish.

“What? What is he saying?” Julia grabbed the older man and guided him to a chair.

Frank shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea. It’s Portuguese, but a bunch of words that don’t make sense.”

She groaned. “Darn it, I thought he didn’t look good when he came in.” She held on to his arm. “Listen, Frank, call the ambulance right now. Tell them he’s having a stroke and they need to call ahead to the hospital. It’s a good hospital, right?”

“Excellent care,” he assured her and ran for the phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Julia talking slowly and carefully to her neighbor. She was doing some kind of neurological exam, moving her finger side to side and up and down in front of his eyes. She smiled at him and encouraged him to do the same, but even from across the room, Frank could tell that one side of his face was severely drooping. The older man could raise one arm, but not the other.

Frank finished giving instructions to the ambulance and hung up. “They should be here in just a few minutes. We’re fairly close to the fire station.”

“Come over here and help me steady him so he doesn’t fall out of the chair.” Julia had her hands on Senhor de Sousa’s shoulders, part for support and part to soothe him.

Frank reassured the man in Portuguese and although it seemed like forever, the emergency crews arrived. Julia told them what had happened, using Frank as a translator. He didn’t understand half of it, but the paramedics did, and they bundled her neighbor off to the hospital.

“We should go too, Frank.” Julia put her hand on his arm. “I have his daughter’s phone number. You call her and tell her we’ll meet her there.”

“Okay.” He called while Julia locked up the apartment and soon found himself back on the motorcycle again riding toward the island hospital, Julia behind him. Not what he had in mind for a romantic outing, but seeing her in action was impressive. If she hadn’t had her nurse’s training and education, if she hadn’t recognized the signs of Senhor de Sousa’s illness, he could have easily gotten worse, perhaps to the point of death.

Julia was a wonder, not just in her relationship with him, but in her chosen career, as well. Would she ever consider giving up the excitement and satisfaction of saving lives at the big city emergency room to stay with him? The Santas Aguas estate was usually pretty tame, aside from occasional cuts and broken bones that came with farm machinery and big animals. Thankfully there hadn’t been a serious accident in several years, but he couldn’t picture Julia hanging around the small infirmary waiting for a fieldhand with a barbed wire scratch to wander in.

And he wasn’t sure if she’d enjoy the formal duties that came with his life back in Portugal. His mother had mentioned spending less time with her charitable events and obligations and spending more time with his nieces and nephews, but somebody from the Duarte family needed to be on the boards of the Santas Aguas women’s club, Friends of the Library and the garden club. Frank sure wasn’t going to offer.

On the other hand, Julia could offer classes in CPR and first aid to the local scouts. Exciting stuff. He sighed and flipped on the turn signal to enter the hospital parking lot.

He spotted the emergency room drive-up lane. So did Julia. She tapped him on the stomach. “Let me off here. I’ll meet you inside.”

Frank pulled over and helped her take off her helmet. She strode into the E.R. without looking back. He’d never seen this focused and driven side of her until she’d diagnosed poor Senhor de Sousa’s stroke. She really was a marvelous woman, personally and professionally. He was a goner for her—always had been.

An impatient horn tooted behind him, and he realized he was blocking the driveway. He got out of the way, parking the motorcycle. He cut the engine but sat on the bike for a couple minutes, worrying about what to do. The woman he loved had given no signals about what she wanted to do after their little island interlude ended, as all good things did.

Leaving her adrenaline-packed life in Boston for a sleepy Portuguese burg in the middle of nowhere would be a huge sacrifice. He wasn’t sure what her answer might be to that dilemma once he got up the nerve to ask her.