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He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead he crossed the grassy ribbon between the landing strip and the shiny black Rolls-Royce waiting on the blacktop. The driver saluted.
“Welcome home, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Paolo.”
Lucas bit back a grin.
Paolo, normally the most unflappable of souls, was having a difficult time trying not to stare but then, the sight of his employer with a woman in his arms was not an everyday occurrence.
It was not an occurrence that had taken place here at all.
Lucas had never brought a woman to the finca. It was his by birthright but it was also Felix’s home, and he always exercised discretion where his grandfather was concerned…
Dios. Another problem, one he had not considered. Paolo would not be the only one of the household staff to be shocked at the sight of Alyssa. All of them would undoubtedly leap to the same conclusion, that he had finally decided to bring a mistress home with him.
He couldn’t let that happen.
This was Spain. Princes still did not have to explain themselves to anyone but that rule didn’t apply to young women, not in the world in which old bloodlines and older conventions still ruled.
“Paolo,” he said gently.
The chauffeur blinked. “Sorry, sir. I, ah, I, ah—”
He swung open the rear door of the Rolls-Royce and Lucas slipped into the seat, Alyssa still in his arms. She struggled a little; his arms tightened around her and he put his lips to her temple.
“Sit still, amada,” he whispered.
“Your driver will think—”
“Worry about what I will think, if you keep shifting against me that way.”
The soft taunt had the effect he’d anticipated. Alyssa blushed and went very still just as Paolo got behind the wheel.
“This is Señorita McDonough,” Lucas said.
“Señorita,” Paolo said, smiling at her in his mirror.
“She will be visiting with us for a while.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lucas frowned. He’d have to come up with something better than that but for now…
For now, his thoughts returned to what mattered most. Felix.
“Has there been any change in my grandfather, Paolo?”
“None I have heard of, sir.”
No. There wouldn’t have been. Lucas had phoned endless times, spoken with doctors and nurses, with something called a patient liaison, and each had told him the same thing.
No change. Felix was still in a coma.
“Do you wish to go to the hospital, sir?”
“Take us to the house first. I’ll get the señorita settled in and then I’ll go to the hospital.”
“I don’t need settling in,” Alyssa hissed. “And I wish you’d let go of me! What will the chauffeur think?”
