“Those are acacia trees,” Banti explained. “Giraffes are particularly fond of that type.”

  Without having to turn around, Dante sensed Sierra had moved closer to him to get a better look. He had to resist the urge to shift her onto his lap so that they’d both be on the same side of the vehicle. As tempting as that idea was, it was out of the question, of course. So he did the next best thing, he moved out of the way and handed her the camera again, the strap tethering them together once more. She held it up to her face and her mouth fell open, forming a small o.

  “They’re majestic!” she exclaimed, breathless. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  The giraffes weren’t the only things of beauty out here. He cursed silently at the thought, then he made a derisive sound and gave himself a mental kick. Now he was waxing poetic like some sort of besotted fool.

  Sierra lowered the camera. “What?”

  “Nothing. Just admiring the view.” If she only knew.

  She gave him a speculative look before lifting the camera back to her face. She held on to it the entire time they were there, her chest heaving with excitement at what she was witnessing. One of the giraffes chose that moment to swivel its long neck in their direction, as if watching them the same way it was being watched. Sierra’s gasp was audible.

  She lowered the camera, eyes wide with awe. “That felt like I was looking right into his eyes,” she said, her voice shaky. Then she blinked and looked down at the camera she held as if realizing for the first time what was in her hands. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t even given you a chance to see.” She held the camera out to him.

  Dante immediately shook his head. There was no way he was going to diminish this experience for her by even a fraction.

  “You hold on to it,” he told her. “I can see just fine.”

  It wasn’t until they’d driven away from the giraffes and Sierra handed the camera back to him that it occurred to Dante that he’d neglected to take their photo.

  Their next sighting didn’t take much longer to get to. Banti took a few wide turns, the terrain growing rougher with each one. Finally, they pulled up beside a formation of large boulders. It was Dante’s turn to be awestruck. A pride of lions, including two with thick manes, lounged upon the rocks. As the Landcruiser came to a stop, the animals eyed them lazily, appearing rather bored.

  Dante couldn’t tear his gaze away. As stunning as the leopard and giraffes had been, the sight of a pride of lions was a different experience altogether. An element of danger hung palpable in the air. These animals were apex predators who might attack to kill on a mere whim. Knowing that they were in the capable hands of an experienced guide like Banti tempered the risk of course. Not to mention the two burly men in the last car serving as his bodyguards. But nothing could erase that risk entirely. Sierra’s thoughts must have led in the same direction. She’d gone absolutely still next to him, her pallor the shade of a bleached bedsheet.

  Without thinking, Dante reached over and took her hand in his, gave it a gentle reassuring squeeze. “They’re not interested in us. Don’t be afraid,” he told her.

  She visibly swallowed, her eyes never leaving the pride. “They’re not interested now. But what if they suddenly get hungry?” she whispered in a low voice, almost imperceptible. As if she were afraid to disturb the lounging predators just a few feet away.

  He had to chuckle at that. “That might be a problem.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Rest assured, I’ll protect you at all costs,” he said, with a dramatic clap of his hand to his chest. “Even if it means throwing myself in front of you in case of an attack.”

  She glanced sideways at him. “I know you’re merely making a joke, but I fully expect you to do so if it comes to that.”

  He bowed to her. “Without question, my lady. I shall not even hesitate,” he said, trying his best to sound like what he imagined a knight from medieval times might sound.

  He extended the camera to her, but she held a hand up and shook her head. “No, thanks. I have no desire to see these guys up close. Not their sharp teeth or razor-like claws or...” She shuddered as she trailed off.

  Dante began to get ready to snap a photo, not wanting to miss his chance when it came to this pic. But Sierra still held fast to his hand.

  He didn’t pull his hand away. It looked like he wasn’t going to get a picture of the lions either.

  * * *

  Joking or not, Sierra’s fear about the lions would have been tenfold higher if Dante hadn’t been sitting by her side back there. Her pulse still hadn’t returned to normal by the time they reached the clearing where they’d been having lunch middrive.

  Though the rapid pulse might have had less to do with the predators and more to do with the man himself.

  She watched Dante now as he helped Banti bring the coolers out while Sierra and the others set up the folding chairs around the makeshift table—a flattened bolder near a small stream. Dante had an easy way with almost everyone she’d ever seen him with. Now, he was chatting good-naturedly with the other man while he effortlessly lifted the handle of one cooler and carried it over to where she sat with the others.

  Sierra felt ravenous. All the fresh air, sunshine and excitement of a game drive could sure work up a girl’s appetite. Not to mention, the prospect of being the meal herself.

  As soon as the sandwiches were delivered, she waited with no small amount of impatience until everyone had settled into their seats and unwrapped their portions. Then she tore into hers.

  The crisp baguette and vegetable spread tasted better than any gourmet meal she’d been treated to at any five-star restaurant in Manhattan. The frosty bottle of water tasted better than the finest champagne. Or maybe she was just really thirsty.

  She looked up to find Dante’s gaze on her, amusement dancing in his eyes. Tilting her head, she gave him a small shrug. “I was hungry.”

  “Hope you saved some room,” he told her.

  “Why’s that?”

  He bumped her shoulder. “I eyed some chocolate chip cookies in one of the coolers. I think they’re meant for later as a snack, but...” He reached behind him and pulled out a white paper bag.

  Sierra glanced around at the others in the circle. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them. “You snuck cookies? How naughty of you. So unbecoming of a future monarch,” she teased, keeping her voice to a whisper.

  He shrugged, made a motion to put the bag back where he’d retrieved it. Sierra grabbed his upper arm to stop him. “Don’t you dare put that cookie back.”

  Dante’s smile thinned as his gaze dropped to where she touched him. His eyes darkened when he looked back up at her. A rush of heat swept through her, starting from the palm of her hand where she touched him. She dropped her hand back to her lap.

  Sierra forced her mind back to the cookie. “I promise to share if you hand it over.” He did so with a smile. Sierra polished hers off in a couple of bites. The others slowly scattered after their meals, strolling nearby, taking in the scenery.

  Sierra simply felt too full and too hot to do the same. Whether Dante felt the same or simply stayed put to keep her company, she couldn’t be sure. They were the only two left sitting at the “table,” though Dante’s bodyguards hovered nearby, somehow close enough to keep an eye on them while still affording them the ability to carry on a private conversation. She had to wonder what they thought about the two of them. Did they have the same suspicions Cathryn had about a potential relationship between them? The thought of the other woman and her interest in Dante sent a frisson of unwarranted anger down her spine. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Or ever.

  Sierra picked up a stick near her seat and started scribbling in the dirt by her feet. As comfortable as she was with the silence, she was curious about Dante’s new hobby.

  “So, how’d you come about getting a camera?”

  His gaze turned to the horizon. “I needed a lot of time alone those first few days after...” He trailed off. Sierra didn’t need him to finish the sentence. He was referring to Rula’s accident.

  “So many people offering condolences, pity really.” He sighed wearily. “I’m ashamed to say that after a while I couldn’t really stomach any more, though I know everyone meant well.”

  Sierra felt a pang of guilt. She could have been there for him, helped him in his grief. But she’d had to get away, had to find a way to deal with her own loss.

  Dante continued, “Rather than hole up in my suite, I started taking long walks. First around the castle gardens. Eventually I wandered farther and farther out around the island. The beaches, the villages, wooded areas. Each spot had its own characteristic charm, its own beauty. And I’d never even bothered really seeing it before. It took a tragedy for me to even look at all the wonder I had around me since birth.”

  “You wanted a way to capture it permanently,” she said.

  He turned back to face her. “That’s right. That’s it exactly.” He seemed surprised that she understood.

  Sierra knew what he meant. “It’s how I feel when I see something that calls forth an idea. What makes me want to sit down and sketch the images that come into my head as soon as they appear.”

  Something suddenly scurried by their feet, interrupting the conversation. A small animal that she wouldn’t be able to name. It snatched a morsel of food someone had to have have dropped by one of the empty chairs, then ran back toward the tall grass with its haul.

  “What in the world was that?” Sierra asked.

  “Some type of Valhalian rodent, I would guess.”

  “It appeared to be the size of a small terrier.”

  Dante chuckled. “I guess rodents are bigger around these parts.”

  “Huh. I don’t know. I think some of the rats in the New York subway system might be comparable. Particularly on garbage day.”

  Dante’s eyes narrowed on her face. “What is it?” she asked. Was there a smear of chocolate on her face from the cookie or something? If so, he might have mentioned it before all this time.

  “Nothing. I just always wanted to ask if you’re happy there. If you like it in New York.”

  Wow. The question came out of nowhere, wholly unexpected. The answer was complicated.

  Dante continued, “After all, you’re half a world away from your home and everything that’s familiar to you. Is it all you hoped it would be?”

  Huh. He’d clearly given this a lot of thought. How long had he been pondering such questions? What did it mean that he was still doing so?

  “Maybe I simply wanted to see if I could make it on my own,” she answered, though it was only part of the story.

  He simply nodded. “I get that.” He hesitated, as if he might be weighing his words, before adding, “Was that the only reason?”

  Sierra sucked in a breath, waited several beats trying to find the words before giving up. “I had to leave, Dante,” was all she said. “I couldn’t stay there any longer.” As far as answers went, she knew how inadequate that was.

  But it was all she could offer him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE JUST HAD to get through the next several hours. The event she’d been dreading this whole trip was set to begin in about four hours. Sure, Dante would be the center of attention, but she’d be front and center, and she had to be ready to answer any question directed her way. Not to mention all the photos. She’d watched Dante and his parents enough over the years to realize what a paparazzi magnet the royals could be. It was even worse when Rula was alive. Unlike Sierra, her friend reveled in the attention of the press, found ways to draw their attention and was always prepared to give them a money shot.

  The activity in the lodge had grown considerably busier over the past twenty-four hours. The peace and quiet of the place when they’d first arrived was gone. Now, there were strangers with heavy equipment and large messenger bags traipsing around whenever Sierra stepped outside. Otto and the other bodyguard stayed much closer to her and Dante than they had been upon arrival. Both men seemed much less relaxed.

  The entire atmosphere had changed.

  Sierra sucked in a breath. She was just going to take the day one step at a time. Starting with the team that was on its way to her cabin to help her prepare for the news conference. The palace had arranged for a hair and makeup artist as well as an attire stylist. Sierra wasn’t sure how she felt about that last professional the palace had insisted on. She was a fashion designer for Pete’s sake. She clothed some of the most famous people on the planet and designed for the world-renowned House of Perth. But she wasn’t about to argue with protocol. Sierra knew when to pick her battles.

  Except you didn’t fight for what you wanted when it mattered most.

  Her wayward mind began replaying the days leading up to Dante and Rula’s nuptials years ago. The moments she’d debated whether to let her true feelings be known. Or confided to one or both of them that they needed to rethink their marriage of convenience. Then common sense had intervened and she’d resisted the urge. How could she risk upsetting her closest friend right before she was about to marry a prince?

  But maybe Rula would still be here if she’d done just that.

  Her friend had deserved so much better. Rula’s parents had only seen her as a means to an end—a way to ensure their elevation in Nocera’s high society. On the surface, Rula appeared to have led a charmed life. Wealthy family, a beautiful home, close ties to the royals. But Sierra knew just how little love or true affection her friend had been afforded. And how much Rula longed for only that. Then when she’d finally married her prince, a tragic accident had claimed her life. Sierra’s eyes began to sting with tears, and she fought to keep them at bay.

  She pushed the errant thoughts away just as a knock sounded at her door. Throwing on her dressing gown, she ran to answer it. She’d been instructed to have her face scrubbed, her hair washed and be ready to get dressed. If only Camille was around to offer her some tips about being the one poked and prodded.

  Two smiling faces greeted her when she opened the door. One carried a heavy silver case, the other was pulling a clothing rack. The woman with the case had an eyebrow piercing and a complicated bun of thin braids atop her hair. Her companion had deep ebony hair cut in a sharp-edged bob, slanted down from her ear to her chin on one side of her face, and an undershave on the other.

  The woman with the pierced eyebrow introduced herself as Galen. The other woman’s name was Tracey. Tracey was the stylist while Galen was there to do her hair and makeup.

  “I’m a fan of your work, Sierra,” Tracey said immediately upon entering the room, which made Sierra warm up to her instantly. Galen’s warm, friendly smile was enough to do the same.

  “Thanks.” Sierra smoothed the skirt of her dressing gown. “I have to admit, I’m not used to being on the other side of this process. I’m a bit nervous.”

  “Nothing to be nervous about,” Galen told her in a charming accent. She guided Sierra to her vanity bureau and pulled out the rolling chair in front of the mirror. Sierra sat down and studied her reflection. Dark circles framed her eyes; she hadn’t gotten much sleep. Galen should probably start with covering that up first.

  “Not just about all this,” Sierra found herself admitting. “But about the news conference itself. I’m not used to being in the spotlight.”

  Tracey walked over and gave her a reassuring pat on her forearm. “I’m sure you’ll do great. And with our help, you’ll look absolutely stunning up there.”

  Her looks weren’t her only concern. Not even in the top three, in fact. She was much more worried about saying the wrong thing, making a fool of herself by appearing unknowledgeable. Demonstrating that she didn’t belong up there with the likes of Crown Prince Dante Angilera.

  Behind her, Galen bent down to lean over her shoulder. “You are going to have to try to relax,” she said with sympathy. “I can’t apply color to your lips when they’re thinned out like that. And the foundation will cake on your forehead if you don’t stop creasing it.”

  That was the second time she’d been told that in the span of a few weeks. Hadn’t Camille mentioned something similar back in New York? She really had to work on it apparently.

  “I’ll do my best,” she promised.

  Tracey pulled out her cell phone. “I think we’re going to need some kind of guarantee. Something to soothe your nerves.” She made a call and spoke low into the phone. Within moments, a server appeared at the cabin door with a rolling cart of chilled sparkling wine and ripe fresh fruit.

  “Now, just remember how knowledgeable you are and how successful you’ve been. You can do this,” Galen reassured her, combing out her hair while Tracey poured wine into three long-stemmed glasses.

  “That’s right,” Tracey added. “You’re going to knock their socks off. I have no doubt.”

  By the time the two women were done with her, Sierra felt less like she’d been prepping for a major news conference and more like she’d just attended a fun girls’ night out. Galen’s and Tracey’s cheery attitudes and encouraging words had taken some of the edge off her nerves and helped to alleviate some of the sadness the memories of Rula had brought forth earlier.

  She’d barely touched her glass of sparkling wine, yet she was much more at ease about facing all those journalists and cameras.

  Not that she was looking forward to it in any way.

  * * *

  Dante had to remind himself to breathe when he saw Sierra approaching the makeshift stage where he, Sierra and a group of conservationists would be taking questions. Some kind of transformation had taken place since he’d seen her last. He knew the palace had arranged for some kind of stylists to help her prepare. But he didn’t pay much attention to such things.

 

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