Royally Claimed

chapter 8

Fashionista Magazine: The Royal Review:

AS MUCH AS WE LOVE OUR own celebrity blogger Countess Lily de Brissard, she’s being stubbornly hush-hush about certain royal wedding details, including where the royal couple will honeymoon. Although we admire her loyalty, we’re forced to speculate on the location. Some rumors say they’ll jet off to the Caribbean or the Riviera, and some say they’ll set sail on the Royal Vinciguerran yacht through the Greek Isles.



One intriguing possibility is a stay on an exclusive private property, like the de Brissard lavender farm, the groom’s family chalet in the Bavarian Alps or even the extensive Portuguese ranch owned by Duke Francisco Duarte das Santas Aguas. Far away from the clubs, nightlife (and cameras), but of course most honeymooners are so tired and would rather turn in to bed early… Check back for more news from the only royal wedding site with an inside source—The Royal Review!



FRANK LEFT JULIA ASLEEP IN the pink-and-still-red bedroom and walked out on the stone balcony in a pair of shorts. He couldn’t concentrate on his thoughts if he saw her in that four-poster bed, remembering how she had let him dominate her all day and most of the night. By the end of the night, they’d stopped using protection since both of them were healthy and she was on birth control for her cycle.

He groaned at the memory of her hot, wet body surrounding him and forced himself to take a deep breath. She brought out all the machismo and male power running through his veins that he thought was dampened by modern society and time. The urge to plant his seed and watch it grow.

He stared out over the sea. He loved the early morning on Belas Aguas—and the waters lived up to their name of beauty, blue and sparkling in the eastern light. He was a man of contradictions, tied to his land in Portugal by seven hundred years of blood and sweat. But the sea was in his veins as well, thanks to a previous Duke of Santas Aguas who sailed west to claim a lonely green island in the middle of the ocean.

He had abandoned the sea since Julia had abandoned him. He froze. She hadn’t really abandoned him, he’d realized that after getting his head shrunk by the university counselor. But maybe deep down, he still felt that way. His brain knew that they had been very young and odds were against their relationship succeeding, but his heart wasn’t nearly as smart.

He peeked in the bedroom, almost to make sure she was still there. His phone sat on a table near the balcony door, and he picked it up, suddenly needing to talk to someone about his amazing situation. He called George’s private line.

“Hey, Frank! How are you? How are the renovations going?” George asked cheerfully.

Frank cringed guiltily. His time had been spent in more pleasurable activities than priming and painting walls—and boy, did those walls need it. “We bought the supplies and are starting to paint soon.” As soon as Julia picked out colors. But that meant they had to leave the island and go to the hardware store on São Miguel.

“And how is Benedito?”

Frank exhaled. “He’s fine, but he went back to the mainland when his wife was having some health problems.” He reassured George’s noises of concern. “No, nothing serious, as far as I understand.”

“I am glad.” George chuckled. “Quite a character, that man.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“But you are doing the work alone? Or do you have help now?”

“Julia is staying here with me.”

There was a long pause. “Then your meeting again is going well?” His worry was evident.

“Very well.” Frank couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “She and I are working on the house.”

“Really.” His tone was dry. “Getting much work done?”

“George…” Frank choked back a snort.

His friend sighed. “None of my business, I know.”

“If you’re worried about the villa being ready, please don’t. I have a crew of men coming from São Miguel to do the heavy tasks—”

“Frank, the villa is the least of my concerns. You are worrying me more than the out-of-date paint colors.”

“They are pretty bad. I’ll email you a photo of what Benedito did before he left.”

George made an impatient noise. “Enough with the remodeling! I swear, between your interest in planning Stefania’s wedding and redoing the villa, I was beginning to worry about your machismo.”

Frank laughed. “Don’t worry about that.”

“But now I am worrying the other way! Are you sure you know what you are doing?”

“Did you know what you were doing when you invited Renata to Italy the same night you met her?” he retorted.

“Of course not! That is why I worry.”

“Stop worrying! You’ve hovered over me like an old woman for years.”

“I am not hovering over you like an old woman,” George protested.

“Okay, like a mother hen. Cluck, cluck, cluck.”

George’s gasp of outrage did sound rather like a chicken. “Frank!”

“George!” he mimicked.

They both fell silent and then started to laugh at the ridiculous exchange.

“Ah, Frank, I do tend to fuss over people, don’t I? Stevie and my grandmother will testify to that.”

“And once upon a time, I did need you to look after me. But that was a long time ago.”

“I know.” George sighed. “So, you and Julia,” he continued cheerfully. “An island vacation in your lovely villa.”

“I promise, it will be beautiful for Stevie and her husband,” Frank said hastily.

“Huh, we both know how little time they will take to appreciate their surroundings. But the privacy for them will be priceless. Between Stevie’s royalty and Dieter’s football fame, they will have few opportunities to be alone. I must thank you for that.”

“You’re most welcome. Have you talked with Jack lately? I received a couple texts from him, but he has been busy with his farm and managing the lavender perfume sales for Stevie’s charity.”

“The sales are going very well, Frank. Stevie will have more money to save the world, one woman and child at a time.”

Frank smiled. “We’re lucky to have her. And Dieter is a lucky man.”

“And he better realize that,” George growled.

“Or else we’ll convene a multinational task force to convince him of the error of his ways.”

“Count me in.”

“Good.” They both laughed, knowing they weren’t kidding.

Frank was so tuned in to Julia, he could tell when she stirred in the bedroom behind him. “I have to go start the coffeepot now, George.”

“Have a good time, Frank. Keep me posted. About you, not the villa,” he clarified.

“And you, too.” They said goodbye and Frank stepped back into the bedroom.

Julia rolled over and gave him a sleepy smile. “Sunny day?”

He grinned at her, his chest as warm as if the sun had risen inside him. “With you, every day is sunny.”



JULIA FLIPPED THE LAST pancake onto her plate and sat down across from Frank at the kitchen island.

“This is such a treat for me, Julia. I can’t tell you how much I miss American food sometimes.” Frank was eating his third pancake along with chouriço and fresh fruit.

Julia suppressed a smile. Portuguese sausage on the side and local honey on top weren’t typically American additions, but she was happy to cook for him, happy to have an appetite. Just happy to share a life with him.

Breakfast. Share a breakfast with him. She shook her head and poured some honey onto her pancake.

“What would you like to do today, Julia? We could go to the beach or hang out next to the pool.”

She wiggled her fork at him. “Those walls aren’t going to get painted on their own.”

“We have a couple more days before I need to get the workmen from São Miguel.”

Julia shook her head. “Frank, I thought you had a long list of items to fix on your to-do list for Stefania’s honeymoon. We can’t spend the whole time in bed.”

“We can’t?” He gave her a disappointed look.

It did sound wonderful, but she drew on her deep-seated sense of responsibility. “No, we can’t. Not unless you want Stefania and Dieter to have a red-and-pink cabbage-rose bedroom and leaky faucet.”

He lifted a black brow. “Stefania and Dieter are madly in love, will be newly married and alone for the first time in several weeks. I don’t think they will be worrying about ugly bedspreads and plumbing deficiencies.”

Julia shook her head. “But doesn’t she deserve a beautifully romantic hideaway?”

He crumbled, just like she knew he would. He loved Stefania as much as one of his own sisters. “Of course.” He stood and pulled her into his arms. “I just hate to have the island overrun with workmen yet.” He nuzzled her neck.

She tipped her head to the side to allow him easier access. “Then we’ll do some of it ourselves.”

“Ourselves?” He looked skeptical, as if she meant “himself” while she stood around being decoratively useless.

“Yes, ourselves. My condo in Boston was a wreck when I bought it and I was the one who did most of the rehab. My dad did the electrical, but taught me to do the plumbing. After that, painting and carpentry work was a breeze.”

“Really?”

“I’m a handy girl.”

“And I’m a handy man.” He demonstrated that by sliding his hands down to squeeze her bottom. She wore thin knit exercise shorts and his hand was hot on her skin.

She giggled. “Very handy indeed. But what do you say, Frank? Let’s fix the place up together, and then you can bring over the workers for the bigger projects.”

“You’re going to be a distraction.”

“A bad one?” She wiggled against him.

He nibbled her earlobe. “What do you think?”

“A good distraction. But rolling around in bed won’t get the renovations done. If we don’t do anything, we’ll have to get outside help that much sooner, and that means losing our privacy.”

He frowned at that idea. She knew privacy was a rare gift for him, being surrounded most of the time by family and staff at home. “Okay, Julia. We can do most of the work and delay bringing in the cleaning and landscaping staff for several more days.”

“Great.” She looked around. “Where should we start?”

He sighed, his warm breath tickling her. “The bathrooms. Paint, plumbing, the whole works. All the supplies are out in the storage shed.” He reluctantly let go of her and drank the rest of his coffee. “Take your time with your breakfast—it’ll take me a few minutes to carry the new materials in.”

He trudged toward the door in mock disappointment but was whistling cheerfully by the time he went outside. He was such an active man and thrived on difficult, physical work. Julia quickly loaded the dishes into the dishwasher and headed upstairs. She had bragged about her do-it-yourself skills and it was time to prove it.

Julia eyed the master bathroom’s ancient faucet with two faceted plastic knobs designed to look like crystals. A steady drip of water plopped into the sink.

Frank appeared in the doorway. “Lovely, isn’t it?”

“Is this the same sink from the last time I was here?”

“Yep.” He grunted as he set down a big cardboard box that held a new vanity cabinet. He straightened up and massaged his lower back. “I’m sure it is. We haven’t fixed up the villa for years.”

She opened the doors under the old sink and shut off the water, disconnecting the plastic trap and letting the water drain into a bucket. Frank carried a wrench and screwdriver into the bathroom and stopped when he saw her progress.

“Screwdriver.” She held out her hand and he placed it in her palm. She tried to undo the screws holding the cabinet to the wall, but they were too tight for her. She struggled for a minute and Frank knelt beside her.

“Here, let me.”

She fought with the screws but he made an impatient noise and covered her hand with his. “You don’t have to do this all by yourself.”

“I’m used to it.” She didn’t mean it as a slam on him but his lips tightened.

They tussled briefly over the tool but he prevailed and quickly freed the vanity from the wall. His muscles bulged as he pulled it into the bedroom.

While he was taking the old fixture downstairs, Julia cut open the new box and had the new vanity and sink pushed up against the wall. It was a dark mahogany with a cream stone top and she found a new brushed nickel faucet in a nearby box.

“Julia!” he said in annoyance, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What?”

“That cabinet and sink are very heavy, and you are still getting over your injuries. I am not going to let you help with this renovation if you insist on doing everything by yourself.”

She huffed out a breath. “I’m perfectly capable of doing work like this without straining myself.”

“I mean it, Julia.” His face hardened into what she privately called his “duke expression.” She’d only seen it a few times. “If you don’t leave the heavy lifting to me, I’ll do all the work myself.”

“And what would I do?”

“Sit on the terrace and enjoy the ocean view. Or else I’ll take you back to São Miguel.”

“You’d separate us for this?”

“For the sake of your health I would do anything.”

“Oh.” She hated to admit he was right. Although she’d been in excellent shape before her injury, she wasn’t back up to her full strength and was starting to feel a bit of strain in her arms and shoulders.

“What is the American phrase? You can be the brain and I can be the brawn.” He gave her a teasing smile.

“Oh, Frank.” She pushed at him and he hugged her. He certainly was strong, built like an ox.

“We make a good team, you and I.” He dipped his head to kiss her, and she threaded her fingers through his sleek black waves.

He reached under her shorts, inhaling sharply when he realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear. His fingers found her damp core, opening her and playing with her hard little *, teasing until it swelled. She widened her stance and spread her arms for balance on the sink top.

“You want me to take you like this?” His hands caressed and molded her bottom cheeks.

She couldn’t speak, only nodded.

“God, Julia, you turn me into an animal.” He nudged her knees even wider with his and pushed the fabric to the side. Somehow the band of fabric made her feel even more naked than if she had been totally bare. He gripped her hips and thrust into her, letting out a groan as he settled himself to the hilt.

“Move,” she moaned, when it seemed as if he was determined to drive her crazy and stay still.

He pistoned in and out of her, shoving his hands under her tank top to cup her breasts. His big fingers rolled her nipples into diamond hard points, sending jolts of lust triangulating down to her *.

She tossed her head back and he bit her earlobe. “Touch yourself, Julia. Rub your * for me.”

She did as he commanded and looked into the mirror above the sink. She gasped. Her eyes were dilated and hazy, her hair a wild tangle.

Frank caught her gaze in the mirror. “Look how sexy you are. I can’t even leave you long enough to undress you.”

They both appeared dressed, but it was obvious that he was possessing her body. And possessing her mind and heart, as well.