How to Marry a Princess

“The asthma’s in remission. And after several surgeries that didn’t do much good, two years ago she finally had the one that actually worked.”

“So she’s well? She can lead a normal life.”

“She has to be careful.”

Alice was studying him again, and much too closely. “You’re overprotective.”

“I’m not.” He sounded defensive and he knew it.

“But Lucy thinks so....”

He grumbled, “You’re too damn smart.” He could almost regret not choosing a stupid princess. But then all he had to do was look at her, smell her perfume, hear her laugh, watch her with her horses—and he knew that no silly, malleable princess would do for him. Alice was the one. No doubt about it.

“I certainly am smart,” she said. “So you’d better be honest with me from now on. Tell me lies and I’ll find you out.”

“I have been honest.” Mostly.

She shook her head. “Do I have to remind you of your alter ego, the stable hand—again?”

“Please. No.” He held up both hands palms out in surrender.

“Oh, my.” She pretended to fan herself. “You’re begging. I think I like that.”

He set her straight. “It was a simple request.”

“No, no, no.” She laughed. She had a great laugh, full-out and all in. “You were definitely begging.” Smiling smugly, showing off the dimples that made her almost as cute as she was beautiful, she asked, “You said Lucy is twenty-three, right?”

He kept catching himself watching her mouth. It was plump and pretty and very tempting. But he wasn’t going to kiss her, not tonight. He’d just barely salvaged the situation with her and he couldn’t afford to push his luck by moving too fast. “Why are we talking about Lucy, anyway?”

“Because she’s important to you.” She said it simply. Openly.

And all at once he wanted to be...better somehow. It was bewildering. She stirred him, more than he’d ever intended to be stirred. He started talking, started saying real things. “When our mom died, we had nothing. Lucy was nine and sick all the time. I was twenty-one, just starting out, working days for that guy with the horse ranch I told you about, taking business classes at night. Our mom died and Child Protective Services showed up the next day to take Lucy away.”

“I am sorry....” She said it softly, the three simple words laden with sadness. For him.

He wanted some big things from her. Sympathy wasn’t one of them. “Don’t be. It was a good thing.”

“A good thing that you lost your sister?”

“I didn’t lose her. She went to an excellent foster mom, a great lady named Hannah Russo who made me welcome whenever I came to visit.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“It was, yeah. And that they wouldn’t let me take care of my sister was a definite wake-up call. I knew I had to get my ass in gear or I would never get custody of her. She was so damn frail. She could have died. I was afraid she would die. It was seriously motivating. I was determined, above all, to get her back with me where I could take care of her.”

Her eyes were so soft. He could see the moon in them. “How long did it take you?”

“I got custody of her three years after our mom died, when Lucy was twelve. I’ve taken care of her since then. She’s my family. Sometimes she doesn’t see it, but I only want what’s best for her.”

“I know you do.” She leaned in close again. He smelled lilies and sea foam. “I like you, Noah.” She said his name on a breath. And then she leaned closer still. “You’re macho and tough. Kind of. But not. You confuse me. I shouldn’t like that. But I do. I like you far too much, I think.”

He whispered, “Good.” His senses spun. She affected him so strongly. Too strongly, really. More strongly than any woman had in a long, long time—maybe ever. Above all, he had to remember not to push too fast. Not to kiss her. Yet.

Her red skirts rustled as she leaned that little bit closer. Her breath brushed his cheek, so warm, so sweet.

What now? Should he back off? Did it count as moving too fast if she was the one doing the moving?

She whispered, “I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss you....”

“All right.” It wasn’t all right. Not really. And she was too close, making it way too hard to remember that he wasn’t going to kiss her. Not now. Not tonight....

“But, Noah. I really want to kiss you.”

He held very still, every molecule in his body alert. Hungry. He wanted to go for it, to grab her and haul her into his aching arms. He wanted that way too much for his own peace of mind. “Remember,” he said on a bare husk of sound, “you have a plan.”

“What plan?” Her gaze kept straying to his mouth.

“You promised yourself you would think before you jump.” Did he mean to be helpful? Maybe. But somehow it came out as a challenge.

And, as everything he’d read about her had made crystal clear, Her Highness Alice never could resist a challenge. “To hell with my plan.”

“Tomorrow you’ll feel differently.”

“Tomorrow can take care of itself.” She swayed that fraction closer. “Right now I only want to kiss you.” She lifted those plump, sweet lips to him.

He made himself wait. He managed, just barely, to hold himself in check until her mouth touched his.

Then, with a low groan, he reached out and wrapped his arms good and tight around her.

Chapter Three

Alice knew very well that she shouldn’t be kissing him.

Kissing him, after all, was exactly what she’d said she wouldn’t do.

But the scent of him was all around her—like his big strong arms that held her so very tightly. His chest was broad and hard and wonderful beneath the snow-white evening shirt.

And his kiss? Deep and demanding at first, thrilling her. His hot breath burned her mouth; his tongue delved in.

But then a moment later he dialed it down, going gentle, easier. He tempted her all the more forcefully by using tenderness, by taking it slow. His big hands roamed her back, making her shiver with delight. And his lips... Oh, my, the man certainly did know how to kiss. She could go on like this forever, sitting under the moon with the soft sigh of the sea far below them, all wrapped up in Noah’s arms.

Then again, anyone might come up on them out here in the open like this. The paparazzi were everywhere. She’d learned that the hard way, over and over again.

If someone got a shot of her now, plastered all over a virtual stranger, soul-kissing him deeper than she had that redheaded barmaid during the karaoke escapade...

With a low moan, she put her hands to his hard chest and pushed him away. He made no move to stop her.

Breathless, still yearning, she faced forward again. Sagging against the iron back of the bench, she stared out beyond the railing at the moonlit sea.