How to Marry a Princess

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“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.

Noah said nothing. She was grateful for that.

Back on the path behind them, a woman laughed. It was more of a giggle, really. A man spoke as though in reply, his voice low and intimate, the words unclear. More feminine laughter, and then the man said something else, the sound of his voice retreating as he spoke. Whoever they were, they had turned and gone back toward the palace.

There was silence. Only the breeze off the sea and the distant cry of a gull.

Alice smoothed her hair and straightened the bodice of her strapless gown. “Sometimes I really disappoint myself.”

“Is it possible you’re trying too hard to be good?” he asked in that lovely sexy rumble that had stirred her from the first.

She shot him a scoffing glance. “More likely, I’m not trying hard enough.”

He caught her hand. Before she could pull away, he pressed his wonderful lips to the back of it. His mouth was so warm, so deliciously soft compared to the rest of him. “You’re amazing. Just as you are. Why mess with a great thing?” His words were pure temptation. She wanted only to sigh and sway against him again, to kiss him some more, to give him a chance to flatter her endlessly. She wanted to let him kiss her and touch her until she forgot all the promises she’d made to herself about learning a little discipline, about keeping her actions under control.

Instead, she said, “I would like my hand back, please.” He released her. She rose and brushed out her taffeta skirt. “Good night. Please don’t follow me.” She turned for the trail, glancing back only once before she ducked between the hedges.

He hadn’t moved. He sat facing the sea, staring out at the moon.

* * *

Alice collected her bag and wrap from the attendant at the side entrance and called for her driver.

Twenty minutes after she’d left Noah staring out to sea, the driver was holding the limo door for her. She slipped into the plush embrace of the black leather seat.

At home she had another bath. A long one, to relax.

But she didn’t relax. She lay there amid the lily-scented bubbles and tried not to feel like a complete jerk.

Noah had really stepped up. He’d made an honest, forthright apology for misleading her at the stables. And then he’d gone about being a perfect gentleman. He’d also been open and honest with her about his life, his past. About the tensions between him and his little sister.

He had not put a move on her. She’d made sure that he wouldn’t, by going on and on about how from now on she planned to look before she leaped.

After which she had grabbed him and kissed him for all she was worth.

Seriously, now. She was hopeless. She needed a keeper, someone to follow her around and make sure she behaved herself. Twenty-five years old and she couldn’t stop acting like an impulsive, greedy child.

Her bath grew cold. She only grew more tense, more annoyed with herself.

Finally, she got out and dried off and put on a robe. It was after two in the morning. Time for bed.

But she couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking how Noah had said he had no problem with her looking him up on the internet.

Finally, she threw back the covers, grabbed her laptop and snooped around for a while.

She learned that everything he’d told her that night—and in the stables, for that matter—was the truth. He was quite a guy, really, to have come from a run-down rented bungalow in the roughest part of Los Angeles without a penny to his name and built a real-estate empire before he was thirty. When he was twenty-eight, he’d been one of Forbes’ thirty top entrepreneurs under thirty. Two years ago he’d been a People magazine pick for one of America’s ten most eligible bachelors. His Santa Barbara–area estate had been profiled in House & Garden.

There were several pages of images. Some of them showed him with Lucy, who had a sweet, friendly smile and looked very young. But most of them were of him with a gorgeous woman at his side—a lot of different gorgeous women. He’d never been linked to any one woman for any length of time.

The endless series of beautiful girlfriends reminded her of all the reasons she wouldn’t be getting involved with him. The last thing she needed was to fall for a rich player who would trade her in for a newer model at the first opportunity.

It was after four when she finally fell asleep. She woke at noon, ate a quick breakfast, put on her riding clothes and went to the stables.

Noah wasn’t there. Excellent. With a little luck, she would get through the last five days of his Montedoran visit without running into him again.

* * *

Sunday morning, Alice kept her promise to Max and went to breakfast at the palace. Everyone seemed happy to see her.

Her mother made a special effort to ask her how the plans were coming along for next year’s Grand Champions Tour. Alice gave her a quick report and her mother said how pleased they all were with her work. She’d sold two mares, a stallion and a gelding in the past month. The money helped support her breeding program, but a good chunk of it went to important causes. Her mother praised her contribution to the lives of all Montedorans.

Alice basked in the approval. She knew what it meant. Her mother was getting past her disappointment over her antics in Glasgow.

At the table, she ended up next to Damien. He threw an arm across her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Allie. You’re looking splendid, as always.”

“Flatterer.”

Dami shrugged and got to work on his eggs Benedict. He looked a little tired, she thought. But then, he often did. He was quite the globe-trotter. Most people thought he was all about beautiful women and the good life—and he was. But he also held a degree in mechanical engineering and design. He was a talented artist, too. And beyond all that, he loved putting together a profitable business deal almost as much as their second-born brother, Rule. And then there were the charities he worked hard to support.

No wonder he looked as though he needed a long nap.

She was tempted to ply him with questions about Noah. But what was the point? She’d already decided that she and Noah weren’t going to be happening, so it didn’t matter what Dami might have to tell her about him.

Dami sipped espresso. When he set down the demitasse, he turned to her again and said softly, “I heard you danced more than one dance with Noah Cordell last Friday. After which you went walking in the garden with him....”

Well, all right, then. Apparently, she was going to hear about Noah after all, whether she wanted to or not. “I met him in the stables. He was there Wednesday and Thursday mornings, early. He said you had introduced him to Gilbert.”

“That’s right.”

“We...chatted.”

“And danced,” he repeated, annoyingly patient. “And walked in the garden.”

“Yes, Dami. We did.”

“You like him.” It wasn’t a question. His expression was unreadable.

She answered truthfully. “I do. He’s intelligent, fun and a good dancer, as well.”

“He’s worse with women than I am.”

“But you’re not so bad—lately. I mean, what about Vesuvia?”