Chapter Four
“Are you ready?” Nassor asked her.
Izzy touched the blindfold he’d put on her halfway into their helicopter ride. “Yes.”
He removed the blindfold. “Now.”
She glanced around. When the chopper had landed, she’d heard the sounds of crackling leaves and the smell of tree sap, but this was beyond her expectations. Floor lanterns created a path of light in the forest.
Nassor gestured for her to go ahead, and she followed the path, wishing she hadn’t chosen to wear her only pair of high heels. Her maid Candace had shown her the closet filled with clothes and shoes far too fancy for her taste that the king had bought for her stay. She imagined what her students and colleagues would think if they saw her in those getups.
A warm evening breeze caressed her skin, and she folded her arms. A sleeveless black dress hadn’t helped, either. That had been the only dressy kind of clothes she’d brought from home. When she’d bought it, over two years ago, it had fit her but now—after the stress eating following her stepmother’s death—it pressed into her too much, pushing her breasts above the top.
When she got to the last lantern, she sucked in her breath. In front of her, a swarm of fireflies flew in a much closed off area of the forest—where the trees canopied the area, giving a magical atmosphere. “Stunning.”
“It was my favorite place to visit as a child.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest.
“Sit down,” he said, pointing at the picnic basket in the middle of an outdoor blanket.
He’d done all this for her. He didn’t have to, despite his spiel about wanting her to climb into his bed. Still, no man had ever gone out of his way for her.
“Thank you. The fireflies are so beautiful.”
He removed his jacket and handed it to her. Heat inflated inside her the moment she saw how his muscles stretched the gray shirt he wore. Damn. Her gaze slid down his thick forearms, and her nipples tightened so much they nearly popped from her dress. The idea caused her veins to thrum, and heat once more flooded through her.
She sat on the blanket as he opened the basket and retrieved different types of cheese, crackers, grapes, and more.
“Each firefly lights up its pattern in a unique way,” he said.
“Did you learn that as a kid?”
“No, I read it online a few hours ago.”
She chuckled. “Your country is beautiful, I’ll give you that.” From what she could see anyway. She’d been in his castle for the past two days, recovering from horrible jetlag, but also trying to make friends with the staff. They treated her with a lot of respect, and she wondered if they’d be useful for her to find out more about her stepmother’s death. When she’d checked in, she’d seen a large guest book where all visitors signed. It asked for name and address—had Mary put her home address or the one from where she stayed? She needed to get that guest book and see.
All in good time. She’d have over three more weeks to get some closure, or better, hard evidence she could take to the authorities in the United States.
“Thirsty?” He offered a glass of white wine, and she took it. The chilled drink soothed her throat.
She enjoyed more than half the glass, then placed it on the grass and nibbled on some cheese. “So you came here as a kid? To escape the pressure of royalty life?”
“I didn’t have much pressure. For a long time, my mother was an outcast… I actually had a normal childhood. Had a best friend and bad grades sometimes.”
“Really?” She inched closer, remembering the story he told her about the dog he adopted.
“Yeah.” A flicker of satisfaction glinted in his eyes. “My mother fell in love with this man, a car salesman. They fought a lot, and didn’t get married. She got pregnant with me, and at the time my grandfather was king and thought a bastard couldn’t be part of the family.”
“How horrible.” She touched his hand. “I’m sorry. So your coming back into the family fold is pretty recent.”
“Yeah. I’ve had a very successful financial investment business. I didn’t really care. Last year, my mother married my father and was recognized as a royal again. Three months ago, I moved into the castle and my uncle introduced me to the people as his nephew and successor.” He squeezed her hand, and an intimate energy passed between them.
She threaded her fingers in his, loving the closeness even if that could give her a headache later on. The warmth from his palm made her wish for him to touch her all over. “What about your father? What kind of relationship do you have with him?”
“He and my mother have separated, and this time may be for good. He’s out of the picture, really. Moved to Italy. I don’t care much for him.”
“Good for you,” she said. Hell, hadn’t she wasted a lot of time getting potential adoptive parents at the orphanage to like her? Only to have the social worker explain to her the family she met were looking for a younger child. “Thanks for sharing all this.”
