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The brunette smiled in welcome. “Ms. Dubone, how lovely to have you and your son staying with us. I will have your bags sent to your rooms. As Prince Christian stated, anything you need, please let me know. We look forward to making your stay extra special in the hopes you’ll return.”
When Noelle’s eyes widened in surprise, Christian cocked his head at Francas’s not-so-subtle hint. She’d been Christian’s favorite nursemaid when he, Gabriel and Nic were growing up, and as such he gave her a little more latitude when she voiced her opinions than he might have with someone else.
“Thank you,” Noelle murmured with a friendly smile.
They entered the great hall. In its heyday everyone in the castle would gather there for meals. The lower section of the thirty-foot walls was lined with dark wainscoting, and enormous paintings depicting hunt scenes were hung above.
“I feel a little bit like I’ve been transported back to the fourteenth century.”
“When I bought the castle, it was in pretty bad shape. Veneto hated the country and rarely spent time at his estate. The stone floors were chipped and uneven. Plaster was crumbling everywhere. I decided to take some of the walls back to the original stone. Where the paneling was in better shape, it was restored.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, pointing at several suits of armor that stood at attention on one end of the room. “Marc is going to love those.”
Hearing his name seemed to rouse him. Marc lifted his head from Christian’s shoulder and blinked blearily. “Mama?”
“We’re at Prince Christian’s castle. Look at how big this room is.”
Marc’s eyes went wide as he gazed around. “Wow.” He squirmed a little as he swiveled to check out the space in every direction, but made no attempt to get away from Christian.
Deciding to give up while he was ahead, Christian set down his son. “Go check out that armor over there.” He pointed at a set with intricate gold filigree that looked too ornate to have ever been worn into battle.
“Is it yours?” For a couple seconds hero worship blazed in Marc’s burnished gold eyes, and Christian reveled in his son’s admiration. “Have you ever worn it?”
“No. It was made specially for one of my ancestors and only fit him,” Christian explained.
“Did he wear it in battle with trolls?”
“Ah, no.” He shot a questioning glance toward Noelle.
“One of his friends has an older brother who is into fantasy novels and likes to tell his brother and Marc all about them.”
Christian nodded his understanding. “My great-great-great-great grandfather wore it to defend Sherdana’s borders.” He had no idea if that was true, but he suspected one of his ancestors had worn the armor, and the story had captured his son’s interest.
“Neat.”
To Christian’s delight Marc was demonstrating none of his usual displeasure when his father was around. While the boy raced from the armor to the display of swords and battle-axes, Christian set his hand in the small of Noelle’s back and guided her toward the salon. Here, carpet stretched the length of the stone floor, and paneling covered the rustic walls. Long windows, framed in royal blue velvet, overlooked the castle’s inner courtyard. Late-afternoon sunshine fell upon the last of the summer roses. There was a cozy sitting area with wing chairs and a plush sofa before the large fireplace.
“This is where I spend most of my time when I’m here. The stairs—” he gestured to his right “—lead to the first floor and several guest rooms. I can have my housekeeper show you to your rooms now or...”
He hadn’t thought much past getting Noelle and Marc here.
“Or?” Noelle prompted, fixing him with a curious stare.
Christian laughed. “I have no idea. How do you feel about exploring outside? There are some terrific views of the countryside from atop the walls.”
“I think Marc would love that.”
With their son racing ahead of them, Christian and Noelle strolled side by side through the courtyard and up a set of stairs that led to the battlements. The autumn sunshine heightened the greens and golds of the fields surrounding the castle. A light breeze blew Noelle’s silky dark hair around her face and tugged at the floral scarf knotted about her slim neck. Christian stroked a strand of hair off her cheek and noticed the way her lashes fluttered at his touch.
Gripped by the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her soft, full lips, Christian trailed his fingertips down her neck and around to her nape. Her faint sigh was nearly his undoing. Only awareness of Marc running back and forth across the battlements, chattering about the height of the walls and pretending he was shooting arrows at the enemy below, kept Christian from acting on the impulses driving through his body. But it didn’t keep him from talking about it.
“I think I’m going to go crazy waiting to taste you,” he murmured close to her ear, near enough to feel the way her body started at the hot brush of his breath against her skin.
“I can’t make any promises until I see how Marc settles down tonight.” She peered at Christian from beneath long, sable lashes. “But I very much want to get my hands on you, as well.”
His body reacted predictably to her bold remark. Heat poured into his groin while his muscles tightened in delicious anticipation. She left him breathless and off his game. He slid his fingers around her waist and drew her against his side while his lips grazed her temple.
“No one has ever gotten to me the way that you do.” Before hunger overrode his willpower, he set her free and raked both hands through his hair. “What changed your mind?”
