Lord Kilmore

Lord Kilmore By Tara Greenbaum

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Lord Kilmore by Tara Greenbaum Red Rose Publishing Copyright© 2007 Tara Greenbaum ISBN: 978-1-60435-051-7 ISBN: 1-60435-051-2 Cover Artist: Sheba Productions Editor: Jennifer All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away. Red Rose Publishing www.redrosepublishing.com Forestport, NY 13338

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Lord Kilmore By Tara Greenbaum

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CHAPTER ONE

"Team, assume positions." The adrenaline spiked words rocketed through Christian Kilmore's earpiece. He stealthily maneuvered to his designated launch point at the edge of the Victorian's roof. Welcome to a typical night on the Zackon County SWAT team, where risking your balls was all part of the job. Was he ready to start his weekend busting a drug house and taking down bad guys? Hell, yeah, he was ready to kick butt. The rest of the elite team was less than enthusiastic about a Friday night job. But was Christian pumped? Pumped, with a damn capital P. From the second his boots hit the shingled roof, his body screamed 'yeehaw'! Gently, he stopped exactly on the edge of the steep slope. Yes! He‟d managed not to fall over. Tricky considering his mind had jumped six movements in front of his body. Would this rush ever dull? God, he hoped not. He only had a couple free years left until he succumbed to his destiny as Lord Kilmore and all that the title entailed. A move to Kilmore 5

Castle, his family's fortress, tucked deep in the forest in the tiny country of St. Claire, and a seat on the council. A job he would serve until his dying day. When his uncle, King of St. Claire, summoned him home, he would take his birthright and responsibilities with honor and pride. But for now, he was a regular, ordinary guy living in America. His true identity had been hidden from his colleagues and American friends for various reasons. He hated to lie, but sometimes lies were necessary. "Team, are we in position?" His commander's crisp voice officially started the raid. Christian had been on the exclusive SWAT team for six of the best kick-ass years of his life. He still loved to go to work early and stay later than anyone on the team. He'd meshed into "one of the guys" fairly easily even with all of his regal training. Though, attending college in America had helped, too. His work ethic had multiplied once landing the coveted job he so dearly loved. The guys ribbed him that if he ever settled down and had a wife at home, rushing to work and sticking around after quitting time would be the last thing on his mind. Typical BS that men bounced off one another to validate the sanctity of marriage.

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Little did his team know that he'd been engaged since birth to a very beautiful woman. "One, secured in location, sir." His colleague announced over the headset to the six-man team. Christian winced a bit from the thought of breaking through the glass with nothing more than his size eleven boots. But with the energy in the air bouncing around him tonight, he'd never feel the shards of glass even if they punctured his skin. "Two in position," another teammate announced. Christian adjusted his gloved fingers. His palms damp with warm sweat from the humid Florida night air. He tightened his hold on the cable and patiently waited for his magical moment. "Three, check." He bent his knees and closed his eyes. Relax and breathe. Don't proceed until the word is given. "Four, in position, over." He gently shifted his feet until there was exactly twelve inches between them. Not a good time to slip. "Five in location, sir."

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Christian swallowed hard and cleared the beads of sweat from his brow. His turn. Damn hot uniform. Damn hot night. "Six, secure." "Wait for my go, gentlemen." The leader spoke with staid calmness. 'Wait for my go‟. Did his superior have any idea how hard it was to wait at this mind-blowing point? Once as a rookie, he jumped the gun and barely missed getting shot in the ass as a result. He'd learned the importance of patience the hard way. "No clear count of the occupants. You have the go ahead, gentlemen proceed with caution," the commander announced. Ah yes. Polite leader terms for 'Guys this might turn into a real cluster fuck after all.' With one hand, Christian leveled his semi-automatic to his twelve o'clock position. With his other, he lowered his night vision goggles. Then dropped from the rooftop, shouted his best Tarzan swinging-on-a-vine scream--in his mind--and connected with the glass on the second story window in a thunderous crash. And just like that, he was in. He landed on his feet and dropped the cord. He had no time to brush free the two hundred year-old glass that had shattered. No doubt, even through his protective gear, he'd find glass slivers in his underwear. 8

Through special eyewear, he quickly panned his surroundings while he secured his weapon with both hands. One long dresser with several framed pictures. A treadmill without clothes flung over the bars, a neatly made queen size bed and fresh white flowers in an ornate glass vase. Tidy meth lab? Very Odd. A snow-white cat with a bling bling collar that spelled Duchess pounced on his feet. Meth labs generally didn't have cats. Mean, Rottweilers, yes, but cats named Duchess . . . things were getting weird. Classical, serene music softly drifted through the room, along with a light cinnamon fragrance. The bedside table held a crystal wine glass, half-full, a small birthday cake with three candles, and an unopened present. "One. Room secure." A team member informed from the basement of the Victorian. Unopened present. Possible bomb? Possible set up. Oh Jesus. Official cluster fuck indeed. Alert, team, now. In his peripheral, he caught the slightest of movements. Christian turned his body and aimed his weapon. His adrenaline zinged into overdrive, and his heart beat out of his chest. A woman appeared. 9

Er . . . make that a naked woman. Umm, on second thought, make that a naked, very hot woman. "Who are you?! Get out of my room!" The woman screamed and ran toward the door of the bedroom. He could see the article now. Dear Penthouse. "Ma'am, stop. I need to see your hands in the air." Damn she had a smoking tan bod that bounced in all the right places as she sprinted toward the only exit. The moonbeams illuminated the broken glass casting prisms of light on the walls and ceiling that caught her attention a moment to late. "Stop there's—" "Ahhh!!!!" She stopped short, slowly wincing at her feet. Glancing at Christian, she continued on her pursuit toward the closest exit--the window. "Help me! There's an intruder in my house! Someone call the police!" "Six?" his commander questioned. Was this an act? Was there a three hundred pound man hiding in the closet ready to pounce if he lowered his weapon and calmed the naked woman? "The suspect appears to be unarmed. She's standing in a pool of her own blood from the broken glass. Call the paramedics. I have not secured the room, and I have a questionable wrapped box. Possible bomb."

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"Whachth theijd parodjo." His commander responded. Through the woman's screaming and boisterous crying, he sounded like complete garble. "Please don't hurt me! You can have my Grandma's ring; it's the only thing that's worth any money. I have four dollars in my wallet that you can have also. It's my birthday, and I bought myself a cake and some wine, I spent all my cash, and I don't get paid until. . . well, I don't know when I'll get paid again. But just take anything you want." As she scream-cried, she distributed her weight from foot to foot, crunching on the shards. Ouch! Yet she showed no sign of pain. She either needed an academy award for her acting like a frightened victim or else she was high as a kite on meth. Damn, such a fine woman to be messing around with such a dangerous drug. If they'd met at a bar, Christian would be throwing down his best pick-up moves at this point. Just hoping she'd let him buy her a drink. "Ma'am, stop moving. Lay flat on your stomach with your hands on your head," he gave his best cop voice even though his lower half had turned to pure Friday night horny guy. She peered out the window's edge. Damn, she was contemplating jumping. "Hey!" Maybe he could startle her. "Don't even think about it. It's too far to jump not to break your neck, literally. Plus we have a team of officers in place. If 11

you do survive the fall, you won't take two steps, without risking a bullet to the brain." "Unless you want to leave this property in a body bag, and have two of the same dates on your tombstone, you need to lie down and show me your hands." The woman sunk to the ground and burst into tears. "This is the worst birthday ever. You know all I wanted was cake, icing, and sex. Is that so much to ask for on your special day?" She whimpered. Christian hadn't heard anything after the word sex. Shit. The poor girl had glass shimmering all over her naked body and all he could think of was making this a birthday they would both remember. "Six, report." His commander limped Christian's stiff rod. "Sir, the suspect is secured. I have reason to believe there's another person in the house. Ma'am, where's your boyfriend?" "I don't have a boyfriend. I'm the only one here. I'm the only one ever here. I'm a party of one. Actually today, I'm a birthday party of one." The woman burst into sobs again. "Is the house secure?" The commander shouted over the blubbering. Five secures were met with Christian's. "Affirmative."

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What the hell? Could they have made a major mistake and blown into the wrong house? Not possible. The Zackon SWAT team never made those kinds of mistakes. Christian lowered his weapon, flipped off his night goggles, and walked toward the woman. A robe hung from the edge of the bed. He handed her the terry cloth material and she quickly covered herself. He scooped her injured body into his arms and proceeded to the corner rocking chair. She smelled nice. Like honey and vanilla. And for the first time he realized why she had been naked. Her hair was dripping wet and her skin soft and supple. "Were you taking a bath?" She sniffed and nodded. "You have glass all over you, and you're bleeding." "Say hello to the girl who is notorious for the worst birthdays ever.” “AHHHHHH!!!" Her eyes were the size of Texas as her gaze shot over Christian's shoulder. He swiveled to see the five members of his team in full gear staring at them. "They're with you, right?" she whispered. He nodded.

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Christian shooed the cat, placed Natalie in the rocker, then gently wrapped her feet with a towel. "What‟s in that package?" Christian tilted his head toward the night table. "What package?" She grabbed a throw blanket and covered every visible inch of her body, encasing herself with a protective shield. Christian pointed his gloved finger. "That one." "Oh. I don't know. My mom sent it. It's probably some cookbooks. She sends me cookbooks every year. I hate cooking. I would just once like something for me, you know?" Tears wobbled on her lids again. "I feel the unidentified box is not a bomb," Christian stated into his earpiece for his SWAT team, the commander and the entire Zackon County police department to hear. "Can I help you to the shower?" Christian set his gaze on the two eyeballs that peeked from behind the blanket. "Excuse me?" She mumbled back. "In three minutes, this room will be covered with police, paramedics, dogs, and caution tape. I suggested you rinse off and get some clothes on. Unless of course you would like to show off your birthday suit, on your birthday, to a group of total strangers."

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CHAPTER TWO

"One pillow, or two?" Natalie Johann nervously tugged on her oversized man's dress shirt. Not that she'd stolen the shirt from a former flame or anything cool like that. It had been left in a train on her last trip to Europe, and she decided since it had no owner, it would be the perfect nightshirt. Why couldn't she be that girl who had a wardrobe full of lacy, sexy lingerie? So on the one night in her life, when a single cop was forced to spend the night in her home, she could whip out a hot little number and look semi-provocative. Because she was the kind of girl who spent all her money on African safaris and Venetian gondola rides. Simply waiting to take the perfect picture of a growling lion or a bridge at sunset. "One pillow will be fine." Christian kicked off his shoes and sunk into the chaise lounge. Strong and lean, toned and ripped, Officer Christian could spend the night in her house any time. "Again, I want to apologize for the break in," Officer Hottie began. "Every once in a while we do make a mistake and violate the wrong house."

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Christian began to pull off his shirt, then stopped and yanked it back on again, covering his solid, wouldn't-mind-groping chest, darnit. Just her luck. Her bad luck. Her nonexistent luck. Her lousy birthday had gotten a tiny bit better, though, now that gorgeous Christian was spending the night. How thoughtful of the SWAT team to assign her her very own personal protector. Just so she'd feel safe sleeping in her busted windowed, kaput doored, home. Unfortunately, Natalie wouldn't make the most of the odd situation. Why couldn't she be more like her friend Jenny? Jenny would have Officer Hottie in the bed and between the sheets before the sun came up. Natalie, on the other hand, could possibly persuade him to give her a goodnight kiss if she had a week or two to work her magic. Pathetic. Oh so pathetic. And oh so horny. Ever since her boyfriend found a Swedish model to shack up with--eighteen months ago, Natalie needed some attention from a real, live, breathing man.

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Tonight, if she were a bolder woman she might persuade the cop to play a game of 'hide the night stick'. But she wasn't bold when it came to the opposite sex. So she'd settle for her vibrator. Again. Jeez. Happy Birthday to me! Buzz, buzz, buzz. "So how old are you today?" Christian removed his belt and placed his police gadgets under his makeshift bed. Grr. Ucky question. "I stopped answering that question when I turned twentyone." "You can't be much older than that. You look very young." He smiled. Officer Yum Buns had a smile that could light up the darkest night sky and she'd seen some pitch black, jungle nights. "Well, you're right I'm twenty-five." Christian arched a brow. "Okay, twenty-eight?" "Why don't I believe you?" He smiled. His teeth, even and white, contrasted delightfully with his sun-kissed skin. "Sounds like you're not a very trusting person." "Cops can sense a lie."

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"All right! I'm the big three-O today. You weaseled it out of me. Now, no more questions. I want to eat cake, in my bed, and enjoy every fattening moment of it." He drooped his best puppy dog eyes. "I do love birthday cake." She patted the mattress directly adjacent to her. He stood, crossed the room, and lowered his body beside hers. Heat radiated from his smokin‟ bod onto her skin, causing a scorching wave to shiver up her spine. His deep blue eyes examined her face. "You know you don't look thirty, I believed you when you said you were twenty-five." Natalie curled her tender, bandaged feet under her bottom. "Great, because I'm really thirty-three." Christian laughed. "Why do women care so much about their age? “ "Because men don't want you after you're thirty." "That's not true. I would date a woman who's over thirty." Very good to know. He retrieved the fork off the cake platter. "Is there only one utensil?" "I only needed one. Remember my „feel sorry for me‟ speech earlier?"

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There was a spark of indefinable emotion in his tender eyes, and with the matches on the bedside table, he lit the candles on her tiny cake. "Happy birthday, Natalie, make a wish." She closed her eyes, thought a million different dirty scenarios, and settled on the same wish she wished every night for the past year. Then she blew out the candles on the second try. "What did you wish for?" He retrieved the candles from the frosting. "If I tell you it won't come true." Christian chuckled. "What a funny rule." "That's basic birthday wish knowledge." He handed the fork to her. "Where I'm from, you always tell your birthday wish, so your family and friends can make your wish come true.” Whatever fairytale land Christian was from, she'd gladly visit. She forked a bite of cake into her mouth. Ahhhh, sugar rush. "How long have you lived in Florida?" "I moved from St. Claire about--" She sputtered cake and quickly covered her mouth. "Get out!" She slugged his arm. "I have never met anyone from St. Claire, and I have met people from everywhere on this planet. Did you grow up there? The whole country has less than five hundred people, and holy cow, I am sitting next to one of them." 19

Christian retrieved the fork from her fingers and took a big bite of cake. "I'm shocked you've heard of us. Most have not. I did grow up in St. Claire, and we actually have, one thousand, five hundred, twenty-four residents." "Wow. Looks like someone studied their country‟s census report." She no doubt looked and sounded like an idiot for her reaction. But come on, St. Claire? The country was the only place on the planet that garden bugs light up the night's sky with a blue hue. Not a common fact, but she'd read about them in her April 1999 edition of Beyond the Fences. Ever since then, the country and the elusive garden bug intrigued her. Christian licked his icing glossed lips. "How come a pretty girl like you isn't eating this cake with her husband and four kids?" She averted her gaze from his luscious roaming tongue. "Guess I have a way of picking the non-committal type." He crossed his legs at the ankles. "I bet men are just afraid to ask you out. You seem independent and strong, like you don't need anyone." Natalie lobbed a red frosting rose into her mouth. "Independent?" "I don't mean it as an insult. I just mean some men are threatened by a woman who looks and acts overly secure. Men are an insecure breed by nature and like to have the upper hand."

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Natalie blinked. Were they two virtual strangers really launching into a debate over women versus men and the complexity of relationships? "Take you for example." Christian met her gaze. "You're living in a neighborhood that most people wouldn't drive through in the light of day with a police escort. You have ultra expensive camera equipment, and the luggage under your bed costs more than my entire year's salary." Natalie shot a glance to her camera then caught the reflection of her French luggage in the corner of the full-length mirror. Guess cops really do investigate their surroundings. He bounced up, crossed the room, and sank back on the chaise lounge. "It's good that you can afford to take care of yourself independently. It's just some men like a woman who can't make it on her own and needs a man for financial freedom, decision making, and security." Was this man for real? Welcome to the Women's rights movement, buddy. Where women have learned to put on shoes, get high paying jobs, and use birth control. Natalie cleared her throat. "So the fact that I was falsely sold this house over the internet, took a fluke photo, and was able to buy some nice stuff, means that I am doomed to live alone? Why wouldn't a man want a stable woman who could

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not only financially take care of herself, not freak when she sees her own shadow, and purchase her own luggage?" Christian paused. "I suppose I have never met a woman like that until now." The St. Claire women had much to learn. "I have slept outside in the Brazilian rain forest, hiked up part of Everest, and swam in the Nile. I suppose I don't wait around for a man to hold my hand to do what I want." "Admirable trait." She'd done it again. Exactly what cost her so many relationships. She'd out manned him. Just once in a while she could bring up that the fact that snakes and sharks actually terrified her. "Are you a thrill seeker junkie?" He fell back against the chaise lounge. "I didn't start out this way. I morphed into this type person over the years. I am trying to become a legitimate photographer and sometimes my dream gives me special challenges." He blinked slowly. "You have intriguing goals." Christian actually seemed interested, he hadn't yawned even once. His face told of his honest fascination with her life's work. And the thought that he actually cared even a little bit, felt amazing. She wasn't sure why it mattered. It just did.

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Maybe Natalie should give his country's tradition a whirl. "My birthday wish, every year, is that I sell a photograph to the prestigious magazine, Beyond the Fences." "You don't dream small, do you?" She shook her head. Never in all her years, with all the people she'd met, had she confided so much. Something was so different about him, something soothing, calming. That something even twinkled in his sparkly eyes. She'd told so much, why quit now. "Two years ago, I walked out of a bathroom in Bangkok and right there in front of me was Lizzy Gordon and Tyler Rosas. The biggest A-list actors in Hollywood and both sans their spouses. The pair was canoodling like high school sweethearts right there in the town square." "I took a few shots with my camera, thought nothing of the incident, until a few days later when they both went "Missing". I sent my pictures to a photographer colleague to document their last whereabouts. The next morning my photos were splashed all over every magazine in the world, and I made a ton of money for the shot." "Unfortunately, now, I am considered paparazzi, not a serious photographer. I have been all over the world, taken loads of pictures, and now I've run out of money. If I don't sell something soon, I'm not sure what I'm going to do."

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Christian rummaged through his cargo short‟s pockets. Found his cell phone, stood and walked out of her bedroom. A millisecond later he peeked back in. "I might be able to help you."

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CHAPTER THREE

"If you are willing to be paparazzi just one more time, I have a shot that could make you a sizable profit." Christian bolted into Natalie's bedroom excited to share his news, just like a five-year-old on Christmas morning reporting that Santa had filled his stocking. "All I ask is that you respect the couple enough to use only the picture they agree upon." Christian's aunt and uncle had not been available to speak to him on the phone, he'd forgotten the time change. Hopefully they would understand his strong desire to help Natalie, even if he didn't. He'd just been so blown away with everything about her, her passion for life, her worldly knowledge, and her enthusiasm for work. How in the world, could he feel like he'd known this woman his whole life, when in reality they'd only met a few hours earlier? If only he could persuade her to follow him home to Saint Claire. He had so much he wanted to show her and view through her eyes. Natalie examined her tiny bedroom and he followed her gaze. Yellowish, stained wallpaper pealing from the walls. Creaky, missing floor boards and as if he'd paid the spider, the creepy crawly chose that very moment to make a grand entrance by walking across her bed. 25

"Who's the couple?" she finally whispered. He would be making a sizable donation to some kind of spider rescue organization. "The King and Queen of St. Claire." She bubbled out a chuckle and rolled her eyes heavenward. "Oh yeah, I'm sure the two most elusive royals will just allow me, Natalie Nobody, to take their picture. There aren‟t many candid shots of the St. Claire monarchy. Why would they want me to take their photo? They have the means to hire the best. The most world renowned photographers are at their finger tips." She paused. "Or were you planning on us rappelling into their bedroom and stealing a snapshot of them in bed?" Ouch. Why had he thought this would be easy? "I was thinking more along the lines of a nice portrait of them in a rose garden." "Oh, so you‟re superman and we are going to fly over the moat, the castle wall and past their majesties‟ secret service detail." The notion must have sounded nuts to someone who hadn't grown up in Christian's world. But he flew home every few weeks for family time. His relatives laughed and joked as any normal family would. They just did their joking and laughing with crowns and tiaras on their heads. "We'll have dinner with them at my home, so you can meet and charm them. They'll see what a wonderful girl you are, and happily oblige your request." 26

Natalie laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Then used her palms to wipe away tears of amusement. "That was great. I needed a good chuckle. You are too funny, mister." She didn't believe him. And who would blame her? The whole story sounded so cheesy, it reeked. "I have never shared this information with anyone in America. But I truly feel like I can trust you." Christian sat on the edge of her bed, and dry washed his face. "My father was Lord Kilmore of St. Claire. He and my mother were killed in an airplane accident twenty-eight years ago. At the ripe age of three, I became the eighth Lord Kilmore and with the title came land, duty, and Castle Kilmore." He hesitated to judge her reaction. She seemed unscathed, so he pressed forward. "My aunt and uncle, King and Queen of St. Claire, took my sister and me in as their own children. I have no memory of any other parents. They are the most gracious and wonderful people I know." "After college, I worked my way, old-fashioned style, to the SWAT team. I guess I needed to make it on my own to prove something, but I have shirked my noble responsibilities long enough. The time has come for me to move back home. I am ready to become the man my father would have wanted and expected me to be. The Lord of Kilmore."

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Natalie worked on the tension on the sides of her forehead. Her blasé expression wavered with ever knead. It appeared the massage brought on more of a headache instead of relieving her strain. It was a shame to be the culprit of her anxiety. "I can't imagine what you must be thinking, Natalie. But if you trust me, I can secure you a sizable paycheck, an excellent weekend and views of some of the most pristine land to photograph at your leisure." If nothing else tempted her, hopefully the nature shots would sway her decision. Natalie's puzzled expression flexed from disbelief to giddiness to thinking he was coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. "Is this a pick up line, so I'll have sex with you?" she finally spoke. Oh God. He inhaled sharply, his body tensed and something stirred in his pants. His eyes yearned to view her naked body again. His fingers ached to touch her creamy skin. And his lips throbbed to taste her, everywhere. "I promise everything I have said is the complete truth. There are pictures of me on the internet with my family, which will verify my name and title. Natalie, I will be nothing but a gentleman to you." Even if his lower half didn't agree. Natalie sat in silence for several minutes. Then a slow smile crept over her lips. "I have never backed away from a challenge and now, more than ever, I need 28

money. I agree fully to your terms. Your family can hand select the photo of their choice for submission.” “Show me St. Claire, Lord Christian." She imitated a thick British accent. Damn! He was going to have a very hard time keeping his hands off her totally curves-in-all-the-right-places body for the ten-hour flight.

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“So this is what it feels like to be comfortable on a plane?” Natalie graciously accepted a flute of champagne from the flight attendant. “Agnes, could we get some chips, dips, and nuts?” Christian wiggled his eyebrows. “I am all about some junk food when I fly.” The middle-aged woman handed Christian a cold brew and gave her attention to Natalie. “Could I bring you anything to eat, also, ma‟am?” When he‟d mentioned junk food, her stomach literally snapped to attention. “Do you have any chocolate?” “That‟s the spirit.” Christian held up a hand, palm facing out. The man didn‟t have an arrogant bone in his aristocratic body. Thank goodness, the stereotype hadn‟t fallen true with him. Natalie high-fived him back. He shot a beaming grin and his baby blues sparkled. 29

“I‟ll bring you an assortment of treats. We have chocolate covered pretzels, popcorn, and strawberries. Lord Christian has a sweet tooth.” Agnes smiled and placed the champagne bottle in a silver bucket of ice then disappeared behind a partition. “This is so freaking cool! I can‟t believe you have your own plane.” Natalie knew she needed to stop gushing but come on. Who has a private plane? “A perk of the title.” Natalie sipped her bubbly. “What other perks do you have?” Christian took a long pull from his beer and stretched back in his chair. He crossed an ankle over his other leg. “I am the Grand Marshal in the senior citizen‟s New Years Day parade every year. I have a sour piece of fruit, I think it‟s a berry, named after me, and when I die, they‟ll make a commemorative stamp in my honor. “Woohoo! Your very own stamp.” She giggled. “That reminds me of my worst Christmas present ever. My parents bought me a star.” “Like twinkle twinkle in the sky?” “Yep. When I was six, I opened my big present and found an authentic piece of paper with detailed directions to my invisible-to-the-naked eye star.” Christian drew deep second sip from his bottle. “That‟s original.” “Their hearts were in the right place. But yes, my parents are the worst gift givers.” 30

He examined her face with tenderness and an enticing spiral of desire slowly wound within her. “Cheers to your star.” He winked. She clicked glasses with him. “Cheers to your sour berry.” Natalie sat back in the over-stuffed, leather recliner and twirled a lock of hair around her forefinger. If yesterday morning when she‟d gotten up, and someone told her she be on a plane to St. Claire with a gorgeous Lord, traveling in his private seven fifty-seven, she would personally have them escorted to the funny farm. No one had this kind of luck. Especially her. But this was real, he was real and she was in the clouds, maybe in more ways than one.

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"Good Lord." Natalie sounded like a broken record. It had been the four billionth time since she'd entered onto Castle Kilmore's grounds that she used the angelic phrase. Someone would need to say some serious Hail Marys for her tonight.

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From the mighty oaks that lined the driveway, to the colorful flowers that peppered the lawn, the grounds were breathtakingly beautiful, with an enchanting, magical quality. She zoomed in with her camera on a yellow rose bud. Snap. She zoomed out on the same flower, snap, snap. "When you mentioned that you had a rose garden, I was thinking a bush or two. This garden is the size of a football field." Christian plucked a red rose from the garden and tucked the highly fragrant flower behind her ear. "Do you know I have never brought a girl home before?" Natalie brushed her fingers across the rose nestled in her hair. Why was this very attractive man making her knees wobble and her legs feel like jelly? He couldn't possibly be interested in her. He had noble bloodlines. He could have any girl in the world. "I don't believe you." "It's true." He pointed toward her camera. "May I take a picture?" He could do just about anything he wanted at that moment. She handed him her memory maker. Their fingers grazed and a bolt of lightning pinged from the tip of her head to her burgundy polished toes. "Stand here." He set up the shot. "I am not very photogenic." She fought to steady her breath.

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"Smile." He snapped a few pictures. "Photogenic or not, you're the prettiest thing in this garden." Natalie blinked. Was he hitting on her? Had Lord Hot Stuff inhaled airplane exhaust and become loopy? "Let's go inside. I have so much I would like to show you before my Aunt and Uncle join us." He handed her the camera and their fingers grazed once more, only much longer this time. Her heart literally felt as though it would slam right out of her chest, and she had schoolgirl butterflies, in the pit of her stomach…an occurrence that hadn't happened since the sixth grade. She'd dated men her whole adult life and felt raw sex appeal before. But this was unlike anything she'd ever dreamed of. She needed to get a grip, quickly, before she embarrassed herself and kissed his lips off. Christian's castle tour was not only a historical adventure through the decades, but a deep view into his past. Natalie had no brothers or sisters and with her father in the Navy, her „home town‟ spanned the globe. A twinge of jealousy plagued her heart. Stopping in the antique billiard room, Natalie rolled a yellow ball across the felt table. “When I was in high school, I worked at a pool hall. I was too young to serve drinks, so I racked balls for the customers.” 33

He filled his pant‟s pockets with his hands. “Now that is a talent.” Natalie laughed. “I know it sounds funny, but I became quiet good at the game of pool.” Christian rolled a red ball into a side pocket. “My cousin is a pool shark. Keep your talent under wraps and we can hussle him.” “Nice.” Christian winked then laced his hand with hers. “Follow me.” He led them down a hallway, and up a grand staircase. "I saved my favorite room for last." Christian opened twin ornate, thick doors. The ballroom. She inhaled the elegance. The stunning room had blond hardwood floors with maple accents and a horseshoe-shaped balcony. One end held a built in stage and the other a floor to ceiling picturesque countryside wall mural. The entire room was an architectural treasure. Three story ceilings topped with a magnificent caped dome with no less than fifty teardrop chandeliers. It was as if she'd stepped back two hundred years and plopped down in the middle of a Jane Austin novel. At any moment, a twenty-piece orchestra would strike a chord. Regency gowns would float across the dance floor, as men guided their ladies with elegance around the ballroom. 34

Natalie grazed her hand along an ornate column. "If these walls could talk." Christian nodded. "What do you suppose they would say?" "Oh I don't know, maybe who danced the best, who was sleeping with whom, and Colonel Mustard, in the library, with a candlestick." "Let's give them something new to talk about." Christian snaked his arm around her waist. He clutched his free hand with hers and intertwined their fingers then slowly waltzed her around the dance floor. "Christian, I am not much of a dancer." "Neither am I." His intoxicating breath fanned her cheek. A faint expression in his deep blue eyes seemed to plead for a kiss. Could he possibly be feeling what she'd been feeling? Think of something brilliant to say. "Why have you been living in America and not in this beautiful castle?" Not the best question but it would do. His tender eyes lured her into his spell. "I haven't wanted to grow up, until now. Until I met you." "Me?" "The passion you have for life and your work has inspired me." Natalie lost her footing and he effortlessly saved her from a fall. His strong arms held her close to his body and he brushed a kiss over her cheek.

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Go for it Natalie. This was a once in a lifetime chance. A foreign country, a gorgeous ballroom in a castle, a dangerously sexy Lord. Stop holding back and kiss him. She raked her fingers deep into his onyx, thick hair. Christian took her cue, and wrapped his hands around her midriff. Abandoning her wait-for-the-man-to-make-the-first-move tactics, she traced her tongue over the ridge of his lips. He allowed her entrance and their tongues intertwined. He kissed her slowly, seductively, wonderfully and she happily abandoned the lead. “Excuse me, sir.” A very thick accented man cleared his throat. Startled from the intrusion, she attempted to pull free yet Christian held her face tenderly securing her location. “The King and Queen are waiting for you in the morning room, sir.” The man bowed and left the ballroom. Christian held her tight and she could have kissed him forever. With a heavy breath, she gazed into his warm eyes. “I have wanted to kiss you since the first second I met you,” he whispered on her lips. I have been waiting for you to kiss me all of my life. For the first time, Natalie didn‟t need a camera to capture the moment. The memory of their dance would be burned into her mind forever. 36

CHAPTER FOUR

“Your aunt and uncle are so generous, funny and adore you.” Natalie stood with Christian and watched the taillights fade as his relatives drove away. Natalie had simply amazed them all. She treated his family with respect, honor, and class. She didn‟t seem nervous talking with them about her work as a photographer. And as she took their picture, she made them all laugh and feel at ease. If only real paparazzi were so kind. Most women and men stammered and stuttered their way through a meeting with his aunt and uncle. Which was understandable considering their station in life. But not Natalie, what a pro. It was as if she‟d known them for years. Her confidence oozed out of her pores and radiated throughout the room. Her general happiness for life bounced through them all leaving big grins in its wake. After watching her interact with his family, she solidified his future. Natalie was the kind of woman he‟d always wanted to give his heart to. The kind of woman whom he could grow old with and cherish. Have children with and make love to on rainy days.

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As much as he wanted to honor his country and title, he knew he would never be as happy with his intended as he would be with Natalie. He would break the news to his family and suffer the consequences. Natalie was worth losing everything for. She laced her hand with his. Her hands were so soft, and so warm. “Did I see a gazebo tucked in back of the garden?” The sun had long since set as the garden bugs illuminated the dark night. “You did.” She began to stroll them both to the belvedere. “It‟s beautiful here at Castle Kilmore. The stars are luminous, the moon so bright. And if I don‟t kiss you again, I will just die.” Natalie turned toward him and smiled. He paused to make sure he understood her statement. “Meet me in the gazebo.” She took off in a sprint. Nothing would keep him from following her anywhere she wanted to go. He knew the garden‟s secrets and short cuts better than she. This was a race he‟d most gloriously win. A full five minutes after he‟d crossed the finish line, Natalie showed up. “I was just about to send out a search party.”

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She had lost a shoe, acquired randomly placed greenery on her person and rose petals crowned her head. “I cut my finger and tore my skirt on some thorns.” When she stepped into the moonlight, not only did her disheveled clothes appear, so did cuts and dirt smudged on her face. He bit his bottom lip. “Looks like you lost a fight with a rose bush.” “It was a big bush . . . um, tree, and it came out of nowhere. And now I look like a „gardener gone wild‟.” “You look beautiful.” He caressed her checks with his knuckles and softly kissed her scratches. She slowly pulled away with lust dancing in her eyes. “It‟s such a warm night. Would you like to take a swim in the lake?” Um, yes! “I can call the house and get swim suits sent down.” “I was thinking it‟s too warm for suits.” “I like where you are going with this.” Natalie pulled her blouse over her head. “I don‟t own sexy bras and panties, but I plan on buying new stuff.” “I don‟t agree with that statement, but I would be happy to accompany you on that shopping trip.” He slid his fingertip ever so slowly down her porcelain neck dipping into the valley between her breasts.

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He reached around her back and unfastened her bra. The material fell to the ground, exposing her bare breasts. He wanted to touch her, taste her. Feel his skin on her skin. He reached out to make his wish reality but she turned her back toward him. In one fluid swoosh; she withdrew from her skirt and panties. With her bottom exposed and her blond hair swinging low across her back, Natalie ran a straight shot toward the confines of the lake. Faster than the speed of light, he undressed and dove in the water beside her. He emerged to see droplets of water glistening on her face. “Christian, this isn‟t me. I am never this forward.” Panic laced her words. “Are you chickening out on me?” He tried to break the tension. “Yes. I think the water brought back my senses.” She began to swim toward the shore. “Natalie, wait.” She stopped and looked into his eyes. “I am falling in love with you. And if you don‟t want to make love tonight, I will wait for you until you are ready.” Never had a woman caused him to admit so much. He was losing control of his mind, body, and heart. The scary part was he welcomed the chaos.

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Natalie fluttered her lashes. “I didn‟t expect you to say you were falling in love with me.” He hadn‟t expected it either. “I hope it‟s not just something you say to entice a girl to have sex with you.” “I promise, baby. I mean it with all my heart. We can swim out of this lake right now, put on our clothes, and play Monopoly all night long. I will be just as happy.” “Really?” He chuckled. “Well, I would rather touch and caress you, over moving a metal car around a board and buying property and hotels. But spending time with you at any venue is all I want right now.” Natalie wrapped her legs around his waist. Forged her hands through his hair and kissed him with enough passion to warrant a get out of jail free pass. She broke the kiss and slipped her palm with care and hunger around his stiff rod. “I am not falling in love with you, Christian Kilmore. I have already fallen.” As he reveled in her words, Natalie lifted her hips and guided herself smoothly onto his shaft. After hours of tender, affectionate pleasure in the lake, on the bank, and finally in his bed, he knew he‟d finally found the half that made him whole. And

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with more peace than he‟d even imagined, he drew his sleeping angel deep into his hold and closed his peaceful eyes.

*****

Sunbeams crossed Natalie‟s face toasting her already warm cheeks. Who knew morning sex was better than a triple espresso chocolate latté with extra whipped cream. Christian volunteered for breakfast duty. They were both beyond hungry from a night of marathon sex with short ten minute sleep breaks. She traced his side of the bed with her fingers. His body heat still lingered and his musky, dry leather scent still danced in the air. She giggled then gasped a pint of air and held the oxygen deep in her lungs. What a yummy night, indeed. They had discussed future plans with her career as a photographer and her becoming his wife. Their relationship rocketed like the bullet train out of the station yet she wasn‟t petrified or apprehensive a bit. Everything just felt perfect. “Madam, Lord Kilmore requests your presence in the dining room.” Oh, she would have to learn all the staff’s names. And she’d not met one person twice. She giggled again. If this were all a dream, no one pinch and wake her.

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She found a long shirt of his. She rolled the sleeves and only secured two buttons. She didn‟t want him to waste time disrobing her especially since he‟d revealed just how comfortable the dining room chairs were. She ran a comb through her hair and brushed her teeth. She‟d add lip-gloss, but he‟d just kiss it all off. She giggled for a third time. Why was everything so funny this morning? She hurried through the massive halls and only got slightly lost on her way to breakfast. It had been only a half an hour since she‟d seen him, but excitement to cover his lips with hers bubbled through her and her steps quickened. She promptly entered the dining room with a quirky grin on her lips. He had a newspaper open and it covered his face. She propped her elbows on the massive table and squeezed her breasts tight together to display as much cleavage as her B-cups would allow. “I have a daily special on the breakfast menu you might be interested in.” She gave her best sultry Marilyn Monroe impersonation. Christian allowed the paper to drop. He glared at her through bloodshot, crimson lined eyes. “Sit,” bridled anger laced his voice. W-what happened? She stood and fixed her shirt to cover her chest. Only then did she see the very petite, beautiful brunette sitting beside him. 43

“I trusted you.” He spat out the words contemptuously. Something had obviously gone wrong. His face was a glowing mask of rage as he shoved the newspaper in front of her. There on the front page was the worst picture of the Queen of St. Claire with her skirt blowing up in the wind, revealing her undergarments. And beside her was the King of St. Claire laughing with a cigar in one hand and a beer in the other. Extremely unflattering photo of his aunt and uncle for sure, but why was he so mad at her? Natalie looked from Christian to the mystery woman then waited anxiously for an introduction or an explanation of his foul mood. “My aunt and uncle trusted you. I gave them my word for you.” Did he think she took that picture? He did. Oh wonderful, this could so simply be explained. If he looked for half a second he‟d realize that Natalie‟s shoes were in the photo. It would have been impossible for her to take the shot. “I didn‟t take that pic-.” He interrupted her vehemently. “Luckily, my fiancée found this picture early this morning and halted distribution. But who knows how much damage has already been caused. You could have outed me. Taken cheap shots of me all day long, but you messed with my family. With the only parents I have ever known. And for that I will never forgive you.” 44

Her brain swirled in a zillion directions. Had he said fiancée? As in, a white dress away from a bride? “I didn‟t take that photo. I only turned in the one candid shot your aunt and uncle agreed upon. I deleted all of the rest from my camera. Except the ones of you and me.” “How stupid do you think I am, Natalie?” His face was a glowering mask of rage. “The picture you turned in didn‟t even make the paper. Admit it. These horrendous pictures were your payday.” Why didn‟t he believe her? She would never hurt his family. She loved him and his relatives. Hot wet tears burned the back of her eyes. The stunning girl beside Christian covered his hand with hers. No doubt to console him. A second girl breezed into the room and sat beside the brunette. She held out her hand. “I‟m Caroline, Christian‟s sister. This is his fiancée Sophia.” The word fiancée slapped her face for a second time. She fought back tears, but lost. “I was under the impression you were single and fiancée-less, Christian.” “And I thought you weren‟t full of bullshit. We both have secrets don‟t we, sweetheart?” A chill hung on the edge of his words.

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His lips thinned with fury. “I have arranged for a one way plane ticket back to Florida. Your plane leaves in an hour. I suggest you be on it. I won‟t pay for a transfer.” He stood and strode out the door not looking back even once.

*****

Tears blinded her eyes as she pulled her wet luggage into the living room. Commercial airfare had cost her twenty-four hours of uncomfortable travel. But she was finally home away from St. Claire and away from Christian. She swallowed hard and fought back deep sobs but disappointment seemed to consume her. Outside her window, rain beat rhythmically and lightning lit the sky. Thunderous storm clouds covered the sun and shadows of gloom covered her house. Fitting really. The painful knot in the pit of her stomach, and the ache in her heart had not lessened with the miles she‟d put between them. Would the pain of heartache ever go away?

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She grabbed a towel, slumped into her favorite chair, and dried the tears and raindrops on her face. Duchess her cat bounced down beside her. The feline scratched at her collar and meowed. “What‟s the matter, Duchie?” Natalie rubbed her pet‟s neck. Duchess‟ collar was different. Natalie removed the neckpiece. „I am sorry‟ was written with diamonds across the pink band. “Duchess, who gave you this collar?” “I did.” Christian stepped out of the shadows and slowly entered her living room. She quickly dropped her lashes to hide her red, puffy eyes. “You have every right to never speak to me again, Natalie. How I treated you was beyond reproach. I was a jerk. I lost my head. I didn‟t listen to reason and judged you, after you gave yourself to me with open arms. A millisecond after you left, I realized your shoes were in the photo. With investigation, I found out a paparazzi was hiding in the trees at the castle‟s grounds.” God, Christian needed to make her understand. “My aunt and uncle didn‟t for a moment believe you had anything to do with the terrible photo. I guess I‟m the only ass who jumped to conclusions and ignored reason.” 47

Natalie gazed at him. Sorrow filled her eyes and loneliness creased her face. He was such a dick. “I‟m sure your fiancée doesn‟t appreciate you coming all the way to America to tell me how sorry you are.” Her words stung. Christian sat on the edge of the sofa adjacent from her. “Sophia was my fiancée since birth. We were both going to honor our family‟s wishes and marry. After I met you, that all changed. Sophia is, and has always has been, in love with my sister Caroline.” Half a smile formed on her lips. The small gesture gave him hope. “I have never been in love. Until you, Natalie. I need you to know how truly sorry I am for doubting you. I guess I wanted us to fail because I thought this wasn‟t the real thing. Only you are the real thing. And I pushed you away at the first possible out. I don‟t blame you for hating me. But I bought Duchess three hundred and sixty-five new apologetic collars. And after a year, if I haven‟t convinced you to give me another chance, I‟ll buy a thousand more.” Natalie sighed. A vague sensuous spark passed between them. Christian dropped to one knee, fatigue plagued his mind. He needed to convey his thoughts coherently.

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He withdrew a light blue box, flipped it open and revealed a huge, sparkling princess cut diamond ring. Hopefully, the trip to New York was worth the trouble. “Natalie, I want to marry you. I want you to be the only Lady in my life. My aunt and uncle want to welcome you with open arms. Please let me know if I still have a chance. I‟ll wait until you have forgiven me. Take as long as you need. I‟m in love with you and will always be here for you.” Natalie bit her bottom lip. All he needed was the slightest tip of her head, and she would never experience disloyalty from him again. Agonizing minutes ticked by, with nothing. Then she stood and moved to the window. Rain pounded on the glass as she traced a raindrop with her finger. “I‟ll marry you Lord Christian Kilmore under one condition.” He sprang to his feet. “Name it. And it‟s done.” “From now on, you take the family photos.”

The End

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Author Bio: Tara Greenbaum resides in North Florida with her husband, two little boys, and two dachshunds. She divides her time between wrestling with her boys and wrestling with her next plot. In her life before children, Tara was an elementary school teacher. Now as a stay-at-home-mom, she's found that her love of writing and reading grants her a much needed escape from playing "jump on mommy" and crashing Hot Wheels cars.

Find more out about Tara by visiting her website: http://www.taragreenbaum.com/

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