The Irresistible Prince

She looked at him carefully. He was staring out of the window now, his mouth set in a grim line. Suddenly she understood why Erik and Whit had sent him to her, of all people. “Your Highness, you want more than just a bride for the throne, don’t you?” she said softly.

“Yes,” he said, giving her a direct gaze. “I want more.”

Annah sat back in her seat in the booth. Now it all made sense. The gossip had been wrong, and so had she. He had delayed choosing a bride not to enjoy the countdown of his bachelor days, but for the simple reason that he hadn’t found the right woman. And the friends who had nudged him her way knew about her “gift”—her mysterious insight for recognizing true love. On paper, that made her the ideal matchmaker.

How was she supposed to answer him? Her insight wasn’t exactly something she could control, or even understand. It might not even work for him. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and a smoky feminine awareness caressed her insides in a curl of warmth. It had nothing to do with his being a prince, and everything to do with her reaction to him on a far more elemental level. In his mid-thirties, he carried himself with the unselfconscious assurance of a fully mature man. The power she had sensed within him was manifest in his rugged build. His touch-me brown hair and the well-trimmed beard that matched it rippled with mahogany. And deep in those sensual gray eyes lived an intensity that was compelling. His inner vibrations were strong, but that didn’t mean they’d be easy to read. Again those warm chills passed over her body, unbidden and mysterious.

She excused herself and got up from the booth, fanning herself with her hand. In the hallway, she checked the thermostat to see if it had been accidentally bumped up by one of the girls, but it was at the usual setting. Seeking solace in the familiar, she busied herself getting a rag from behind the counter and wiping the tea she had spilled. Then she righted her cup and refilled it.

What could Lucas do, except wait for her answer? He gritted his teeth, feeling his patience stretch thin. And it wasn’t just the waiting. Everything about this situation went against the grain. It was hard enough for a man like him to have to ask for anything, but this—this was an insult to his masculinity. What kind of a man needed help in finding his own bride?

A man who had played with fire and gotten himself burned, that’s what kind. Only a fool would be anything but careful after that. Lucas would be very, very careful.

Still, as hellish as the wedding deadline had made his life, Lucas had to applaud the decision of the council of elders. His marrying was in the best interest of the country he loved, which had a long history as a representative monarchy. As its prince, he had a duty to preserve the succession and carry that history into the future. He had to provide heirs to the throne. Marriage was inevitable. But the deadline had been a stroke of genius, focusing the attention of the world on his little country—and on its finely crafted jewelry, unique scenery and old-world hospitality. Yes, the elders had their eyes nobly focused on the past and the future—and their fingers wisely wrapped around the present, tightly gripping the collective pocketbook of the Constellation Isles. Tourism had swelled, even during the off-season. You had to love that. And the deadline served another purpose. Although none knew why, the elders were wise enough to see that, at thirty-five, their prince needed a little push toward the altar. He could still feel their fingers in his back, all the way across the ocean.

Annah returned to her seat. “Is the tea all right, Your Highness?” she asked him, gesturing toward his untouched cup.

He looked at it as if just now noticing its existence. “Yes. It’s fine, thank you,” he said, and concentrated on taking a drink. She could feel the tension in him.

Annah was a toucher. She felt the strongest impulse to reach out and pat him on the arm, but an even stronger instinct told her that he wouldn’t appreciate that kind of reassurance. And in truth she didn’t know how well she could handle her own reaction if she laid a hand on him again. “You...you’ve taken me a little by surprise,” she said truthfully. “I’m not sure what to say.”

A look flickered across his face, almost of pain. “There is some irony, is there not, in a prince having to ask for help in such a matter?” he said, with a twist of his mouth that passed for a smile. “But being a prince does not make me an expert in this area, Miss Lane.”

His lack of confidence in matters of the heart was typically male, and thoroughly endearing. Just talking about it was costing him, that much was obvious. But she was no expert herself!

He went on. “I have only one chance, and precious little time. I don’t want to make a mistake that I will pay for the rest of my life.”

“No, of course not.” Annah thought that was an odd way of putting it. Not wanting to choose the wrong woman, instead of wanting to choose the right woman.

“That’s why I am willing to put myself—my future—into your hands. Miss Lane, with or without your help, I will be married in two months. That is a fact of my life, because of a circumstance that I cannot change.” He paused. “But whether I will be happily married depends upon whether or not you will help me.”

She knew—oh, did she ever know!—that there was only one way he would be happy in marriage, and that was if he found true love. Without knowing why, she sensed somehow that behind his wariness, beneath his jaded exterior, that was what he was really looking for, whether or not he knew it or wanted to admit it. But she of all people knew that love was a tricky thing. She could match him up with every woman in town and see true love if it was there—but if it wasn’t, she couldn’t conjure it out of thin air. She bit her lip, stymied. How could she explain that to him?

He seemed to take her silence as discouragement. She could almost feel him pluck up his courage before he made one last appeal. “Miss Lane, I need your help,” he said, his voice resonant with feeling. “If not for my sake, then for the sake of the children I am depending upon this marriage to give me.”

Children. He not only wanted a happy marriage, but he wanted children, too. The undisguised hunger in his voice set off a vibration of longing deep inside Annah, a feeling whose strength surprised her, given how long it had been since she had last allowed herself to indulge in it. Once upon a time, she too had wanted it all.

He lowered his voice to a raw whisper. “Please don’t refuse me.”

She swallowed once, painfully, and put the errant memory back in its place. Then she looked up, and their eyes caught and held. It was as if she were looking into the deep shadows of those gray eyes for the first time, her vision untainted by preconceived notions of who he was or what he wanted. Something in that silent exchange made Annah feel as though a match had been struck somewhere deep inside her, and the flame had caught hold in her innermost self.

No, it couldn’t be—no—it must be empathy that had engendered this sudden bond. For who better than she could understand the yearning and the uncertainty in his gaze? The prince was chasing a dream, an oh-sobeautiful fairy tale. It had eluded Annah, but it could come true for him. The growing warmth inside her seemed to fire her very being. In that moment of shared romantic hope, all her reservations turned to ash. Far from refusing his request, she knew she would move heaven and earth and Anders Point itself, rock by rock, in order to help him.

He needed his dream to come true. And if he had the will, she just might have the way.

Chapter Two

Prince Lucas had started pacing again by the time the huge grandfather clock in the castle entry hall chimed quarter to eight. The relief he had felt when Annah Lane had told him that she would help him had faded in the few hours since he had left her house and come here to the castle at the tip of the Point. While he had slept off the worst of his jet lag, showered and dressed for dinner, a renewed sense of urgency had crept back in.

He had wanted to talk strategy immediately, but she had suggested that they do it over dinner. Even that slight delay in getting the process rolling was frustrating for him, but then, he had been hashing all this over for ten months. It made sense to give her a few hours to do the same.

The sound of his echoing footsteps received the sudden punctuation of a ring at the front doorbell. He swung open the heavy front door. “Good evening, Miss Lane,” he greeted her.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” she answered. She was carrying a large, two-handled pot, which she set down on an antique table in the entry hall.

“What’s that?” he asked, looking puzzled.

“Dinner,” she said succinctly. She disappeared out the door again, heading for the car that was parked in the front drive, and fished a couple of large paper bags out of the trunk.

“Did you make dinner?” he asked when she returned.

“Of course,” she said, sounding surprised at his surprise. “I told you I would.”

He had assumed that her offer to “take care of dinner” meant that she was going to order the meal from a restaurant and arrange for its delivery. “You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” she said, smiling as if that were true while she breezed past him. “Grab that pot for me, would you?” she called over her shoulder.

What could he do? He picked up the pot and carried it obediently into the kitchen.

“Just set it on one of the back burners,” she said as she put the bags on the counter. If her voice sounded breathy, she hoped he would think it was from lugging dinner up the stone steps out front. The truth was that she had once more been thrown off balance simply by being near him, although she wasn’t sure why. A woman who was nearly thirty ought to be able to be in the presence of a handsome prince without having her backbone begin to melt. That she had never felt this way around Prince Erik or Prince Whit must be because they were “hometown” princes. Their mother had been from Anders Point, and the two of them were no strangers to the town when they stayed here in their family’s castle.

If she felt differently around Prince Lucas, she would just have to get over it. She reminded herself of the deep bond she had felt between them before he had left her coffee shop. Making his dream come true was what mattered. And if she was going to help him, she couldn’t be walking on eggshells around him just because he was royalty. Not if her plan was going to work.

She was starting to struggle out of her jacket when his voice came from close behind her, soft and low. “Allow me.”

She kept her back to him while he helped her off with her jacket, chiding herself for her weak-kneed reaction to his performing this small courtesy for her. While he left the room with it, she busied herself getting dinner underway. “I have a few things to finish up,” she told him when he returned.

He had that slight frown that she was becoming familiar with. “What with preparing this meal, Miss Lane, have you had any time to think about my situation?”

He was direct, she had to give him that. She looked up from the pot she was stirring. “I do my best thinking when I’m cooking,” she told him with a smile.

“Then by all means, cook,” he said briskly. He stood next to her at the counter, which had the effect of totally disrupting her thinking. It was just the feel of his nearness, because she had to look out of the corner of her eye to see him—not that she was sure that was a great idea, either. He had been born a prince...did he have to be so darned attractive, too? The man was a walking woman-magnet even without a wedding deadline, and Annah could well imagine the world’s social climbers climbing all over each other to get at him. There weren’t women like that here in Anders Point, but even here they would act differently around him, less comfortably, knowing he was a prince. That was just human nature. Annah knew her plan was right on target. But she wasn’t about to just blurt it out. She had a feeling it would be better to get him used to the idea gradually.

“Nice castle, isn’t it?” she asked conversationally.

“Yes,” he answered. “It is not large, but it is beautifully sited up here on this bluff.”

“As a place used only for their stays in America, I suppose the Anders family didn’t need it to be large. And it will be plenty big enough for Whit and Drew to live in after they return from their honeymoon. Lexi is thrilled about moving in here.”

He seemed to smile slightly at the mention of his friend’s six-year-old daughter, but merely said, “I was glad of Whit’s offer to let me stay here while I am in town.”

That was the opening Annah was looking for. He wouldn’t be staying in the castle long, if she had her way. “By the way, no one else knows you’re here, do they?”

He seemed a bit surprised by her change of subject, but answered her question. “Besides the Anders family? No one except you...and my staff, of course.”

“But no one here in town,” she clarified. “I mean, it was dark when you left my place, and you drove away in a nondescript sedan.”

He nodded. His chauffeur, who was also his bodyguard, insisted on it, for security reasons. He only used a limo for public occasions.

“After that, did you come right here to the castle?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone walk by while you were on my porch?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “I didn’t notice anyone.”

“And I know the girls I was waiting on didn’t really get a good look at you,” she said positively. “So you see, I am the only one in town who knows that you—that Prince Lucas of the Constellation Isles is here.”

His frown deepened. “You think that’s important?”

“Of course,” she said. As an afterthought she added, “Don’t you?”

He didn’t. Wasn’t she aware that once other people saw him, they would recognize him? He expected that. It went with the territory.

Her question dangled intriguingly. He didn’t answer, and she didn’t elaborate, but turned her attention to the food. “The salad is all ready now, so I’ll just slice up the bread.”

Lucas stood aside, watching her. “When I asked you to dinner, I had no intention of your cooking and serving it,” he said.

“I enjoy cooking,” she said, putting the bread into a basket that she had pulled out of one of the upper cabinets. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking of expanding my coffee shop hours and serving lunch, also. It’s nice having a guinea pig to try out my new recipes.”

No one had ever had the cheek to refer to him as a guinea pig before, and oddly enough, Lucas found he didn’t mind. But it still felt awkward, having his guest prepare her own dinner. Standing out of her way as she bustled about, he observed, “You seem to be familiar with this kitchen.”

“Julie lived here as the caretaker for a year before she married Prince Erik,” she said, pulling a bunch of flowers out of one of the bags. “She and I are friends.”

Which apparently gave them intimate knowledge of each other’s kitchens. He was not wise in the ways of feminine friendships, but found himself admiring the feminine grace of her movements as she worked. Bending under one counter she picked out some sort of glass container and, with a few deft moves, began arranging the flowers in it. She placed the bloom-filled bowl in the center of the big wooden trestle table that stood in front of the fireplace. Lucas watched as the drawers and cabinets that were a dark mystery to him yielded placemats, utensils, crockery and glasses at her touch. She began setting them out on the table. It looked as if she meant for the two of them to eat dinner right there.

He cleared his throat. “It was my intention that we eat in the dining room, Miss Lane.”

“We don’t have to be so formal. Please, call me Annah.”

“And expect to dine with you here in the kitchen?” He hadn’t forgotten that she was his guest, despite the fact that she had come in and taken charge of the meal.

But that seemed to be her preference. “It’s cozier in here,” she said reasonably, stirring the pot on the stove again.

“Would be, if someone had built a fire in that hearth,” Lucas muttered, and then busied himself doing just that. Until now it had escaped his notice that the sweater she was wearing didn’t look anywhere near as warm as his—although she filled it out a lot better, a fact which hadn’t escaped his notice at all. He forced himself to concentrate on the work at hand, and soon a roaring blaze filled the big stone fireplace.

She paused in her work to look at his. “You’re quite good at that,” she remarked.

Lucas turned to her. “It’s a skill a man learns early, where I’m from.”

A hint of amusement played at the corners of her lips. “Even when you’re a prince?”

“Of course,” he said seriously, not sure what she was getting at. As the only child of royal parentage, he didn’t have much experience with being teased. Was that what she was doing, or did she really think that his being a prince meant that he was some kind of wimp? Despite that niggling question, he found that putting his hands to use had righted his perspective. This wasn’t a formal affair of state, after all, and having Annah prepare dinner seemed like much less of a big deal than the leap of faith he was taking by putting his future into her hands. Still, Lucas trusted his friends. And it was clear that he himself had no way, mysterious or otherwise, to tell whether a woman was right for him. What’s more, he was wise enough to know that he needed a partner, someone who lived in the town and knew its people. Someone who could weed out the unsuitables and make introductions. Had they known about it, the grandmothers who gathered to gossip in village stores on the Constellation Isles would say that their prince had hired himself a matchmaker—and about time, too! He himself was more comfortable thinking of Annah Lane in terms of a consultant

That thought renewed his sense of purpose and his curiosity about her qualifications. Weren’t matchmakers supposed to be older, more-experienced women? “If I may be so bold as to ask, how can you help others find suitable matches when you are not married yourself?” he asked her.

“Been there, done that,” she said offhandedly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m divorced,” she clarified.

He didn’t remember Erik or Whit mentioning that. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling badly that he’d asked.

She waved away his apology. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. And she sounded as if it didn’t.

That made him feel a little better, so he asked something that did matter. “Do you really think you’ll be able to help me find the kind of woman I’m looking for?”

She seemed to be thinking it over. “Let me make sure I understand exactly what you want,” she said. “First of all, why Anders Point?”

“Princes find brides here,” he said, making it sound, to Annah’s amusement, as if finding the right woman was a simple matter of geography. “And this seems like a pretty good place to find the kind of woman I am looking for. Someone like the women Erik and Whit found.”

“Sorry,” Annah said, unable to keep from smiling at that. “I’m fresh out of best friends, and even if I had one left, I don’t think I’d let you have her, anyway. It’s getting lonely around here, with princes swooping in and carrying them off to live happily ever after.”

She hoped she wasn’t imagining the slight smile she saw underneath his beard. If he had even a smidgen of a sense of humor behind that royal demeanor, maybe he would go for her plan after all. “What is it about them that you would want in a wife?” she prodded.

He thought about that. “I guess it’s that they’re so—” he paused, as if groping for the right word “—ordinary.”

“Oh, boy,” she said playfully, rolling her eyes. “You’d best keep that one under your crown, Your Highness. No woman likes to think of herself as ordinary.”

“You misunderstand me,” he said, frowning.

“Then make me understand,” she said, smiling at him encouragingly. “If you want me to find a bride for you, give me something to work with.” She placed her hand on his and jiggled it playfully, hoping to get him to lighten up a little. The casual touch had the opposite effect on her. Once again chills danced through her, and they didn’t stop at the point of contact, but radiated up her arm, warm and mysterious. Again she pulled back abruptly.

If he noticed anything, she couldn’t tell from his response. “When I say I want an ordinary woman, I mean a woman who’s not like—” He stopped cold.

“Not like the women you meet at diplomatic parties, state dinners and other official events?” she suggested.

“That’s right,” he said, as if marveling at her insight.

It was as she had expected, but she was still relieved to hear him admit it. “Good,” she said. “Because that’s the whole basis of my plan.”

“What plan?”

She took a deep breath and plunged right in. “It’s simple, really,” she said. “The best way to find an ordinary woman is to be an ordinary man.”

“No doubt,” he said dryly. “But the fact of the matter is, I am a prince.”

She held her gaze steady. “You know that, and I know that—but we’ve established the fact that no one else in Anders Point knows that.”

“That still doesn’t make me an ordinary man,” he said.

“Doesn’t it?”

“Miss Lane,” he began, the intensity in his gray eyes sending warmth her way.

“Annah,” she said, correcting him automatically. He was an ordinary man, she told herself, and she was going to treat him like one. Not like a prince. Not like a man who could make her insides cook at a glance. Just an ordinary man.

“Annah, what exactly are you getting at?”

She looked straight at him. “Okay, here it is. I think you should go undercover.”

He stared at her. “Undercover?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“You can’t be serious,” he said, frowning.

“Why not?” she said. “Remember, no one knows you’re here.”

“So you want me to change my identity?”

“Not change it—hide it,” she corrected. “Your princely identity, that is.”

“That’s crazy!”

“On the contrary, it’s perfectly logical, Your Highness,” she countered calmly. “I’m not asking you to renounce the throne or anything. Just to do without your title for a while. Tell me, do you have a surname? I’ve only ever heard you referred to as Prince Lucas.”

He was still looking at her as if she had taken leave of her good sense. “It’s Hansson. By custom it is not used.”

“Good,” she said. “You can be here as Luke Hansson, ordinary man, instead of as Prince Lucas, ruler of the Constellation Isles and wife hunter.”

“But being a prince is who I am,” he pointed out.

“A part of who you are. You’re also a man, a man who says he’s looking for an ordinary, small-town woman. I say she’ll be easier to find if you get rid of the trappings of royalty.”

“But—”

“Trust me, your odds of success will greatly increase. It will scare off the prince groupies, and it will ensure that women act like themselves around you.”

He thought about that. Bizarre as it seemed, what she was saying made sense. Personal experience confirmed that when it came to marrying a prince, a woman would say or do or promise or pretend just about anything.

“Doing it this way will also save time,” she added. “It will allow us to dispense with a lot of formalities. That deadline of yours is awfully tight.”

Didn’t he know it. That was the kicker. “I’ll have to think about it,” he heard himself say.

He went down the steps to the wine cellar. What was he saying? Think about it! His intellect told him he’d have to be insane even to consider it. But the lesson he’d learned the hard way told him otherwise.

He was still thinking when he returned to the kitchen with the bottle he had chosen. Glad to have something to do with his hands, he opened it up and filled two glasses. Annah turned around from the stove as he carried them over, her cheeks flushed from cooking, and for a moment he felt an odd thrill of warmth that he couldn’t quite attribute to the fire.