The Princess And The Cowboy

She cut herself off so quickly, he had to probe. “To what?”

“To…make other arrangements.”

“What other arrangements?”

“Does it matter?”

“If I’m going to be involved in this, yes, it does.”

She cleared her throat. “All right, then. I have to find a husband. A real husband, I mean. One who…meets certain qualifications.”

“Which I lack.”

“Please don’t take this personally.”

Buck frowned when he realized that he wasn’t particularly insulted. What he didn’t like was the thought of Josie marrying someone else. He didn’t like it one bit. He felt almost…possessive, which didn’t make any sense. He’d only known her a few hours.

Then a possibility he liked even less occurred to him. “So you’re wanting a marriage in name only.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I…it needs to be consummated. That is, if you don’t mind.”

Mind? Hell, if no sex had been one of her conditions, he’d have put her out at the next town. She’d had him so aroused from the instant he laid eyes on her, he was having trouble convincing himself not to pull the truck off at the next exit and down the first dark road so he could have her right now. He’d never be able to keep his hands off her for a couple of months.

“No.” He shifted in the seat. “I don’t mind.”

She sighed, as if she’d been worried about it. “Good.”

“Any more conditions?” he asked.

“Just one.”

“And that would be?”

“We need to have a prenuptial agreement. Not that I don’t trust you, but—”

“You don’t know me.”

“Exactly. You don’t mind?”

“A prenuptial saying that what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours, and we don’t get a nickel of each other’s money or assets, such as they are.” He smiled. “Sweetheart, the only assets I can see that you have are what God gave you.”

“I have enough to pay you five thousand dollars for your help.” She sounded a bit offended.

Buck chuckled. Five thousand dollars. He’d been prepared to offer her fifty times that to marry him for a few months. Should he tell her? No. Let her think he was doing her a favor. However… “I’m not taking a dime of your money, Josie. So put that thought right out of your pretty head.”

“But—”

“I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I’m not taking it.”

“If you’re certain…”

“Absolutely. Any more conditions?”

“No.” She sighed. “I guess that’s that, then, isn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

“We’re getting married?”

“I’m game if you are.”

“Didn’t you have some conditions?”

“Not anymore, sweetheart.”

The purr of the engine as the car ran the dark highway was the only sound for several seconds. Then Josie said, “I like it when you call me that.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

Her soft confession touched him. He reached across the cab to capture her hand. “No one’s ever called you sweetheart before?”

“No.”

“Good.” He laced his fingers through hers. “C’mon over here.”

He dragged her across the bench seat, against his side.

He was on the way to Reno to marry a beautiful, sexy trailer-park princess. He couldn’t wait to see his mother’s face when he walked into his house tomorrow.

Yep. The next few months were going to be very interesting.

He felt as if his whole body was smiling.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Josie froze, staring at the bald justice of the peace through the filmy veil, the only part of the bridal costume she wore.

Wife.

Mon Dieu. What have I done?

She’d married a total stranger for the sake of Montclaire. A man she’d known only a few hours.

With the help of a penlight from his glove compartment, she’d scribbled a brief prenuptial, which they’d both signed, with the justice of the peace and his wife as witnesses. But a prenuptial wouldn’t protect her from any vice he might have a tendency toward. She didn’t know anything about this man.

Was her country worth such a personal sacrifice?

The justice cleared his throat. “You may kiss the bride.”

“Finally,” Buck murmured.

Josie allowed him to turn her in his arms.

He fought a moment with the veil. “Why the hell did I insist you wear this thing?”

Finally, he cleared a path to her face. His gaze searched hers for a long moment, probing, hunting—for what, she didn’t know. Then he smiled. “I told you I’d kiss you again.”

His lips touched hers, and all thoughts of Montclaire flew right out of her head.

Josie woke to the soft sounds of birds chirping and waves lapping gently at a shoreline. Accustomed to hearing the ocean only when a rough storm passed over the Mediterranean, she opened her eyes to find herself curled up in a narrow bed sandwiched between a metal wall and a cabinet with a tiny sink.

Sitting abruptly, she noticed how restrictive her clothes were and glanced down. The stars and stripes of the sequined top gleamed dully in the sunlight trying to break through the tiny blinds on the tiny windows. The sight of the stolen clothes brought everything back.

She swept her left hand in front of her face. A plain gold band purchased at the Reno wedding chapel circled her ring finger.

She was married. To a cowboy.

Panic and relief hit her simultaneously, so hard she couldn’t breathe. She was on her own, with no bodyguards, no royal trappings, nothing familiar to protect her.

On her own. Though it had called her like a siren song since she was a girl, the concept was foreign to Josie. She’d never, ever been truly on her own. Not one single moment of her life.

But she was now. Since she’d used the English version of her name on the wedding certificate, no one knew she was Princess Joséphene of Montclaire. She could do anything she wanted, act any way she wanted, be anyone she wanted.

Smiling with a euphoric sense of freedom, Josie fell back onto the pillow, only to discover that the tiny bed wasn’t quite long enough for her five-foot-nine-inch frame.

“Ow.”

She rubbed her head. This must be the camper built onto the front of Buck’s horse trailer. He must have carried her in here after she’d fallen asleep in the truck. She hadn’t meant to go to sleep, but she’d had an exhausting week.

Josie wondered vaguely where she was. Lake Tahoe? That’s where Buck said they were heading when they left the chapel. He knew of a campground on the shore of the lake that had special spaces for campers with horses.

Not that it mattered where she was. She was free. There was no way Bonifay could trace her on the road with Buck Buchanan.

No, not Buck. What was the name he’d put on the wedding certificate?

Hardin Winford Buchanan.

He’d given her a hard look when he gave the court clerk his name, as if he expected her to make fun of it. She’d squeezed his arm to reassure him. Who was she—Princess Joséphene Eugénie Béatrix Marguerite Isabeau Francoeur—to make fun of such a name?

Buck fit him better, just like Josie fit her.

She craned her neck to peer around the camper.

Speaking of Buck, where was he? Why weren’t they in the same bed? She’d always had the impression that middleclass American couples slept together.

She glanced at the floor, then a movement higher caught her eye. Two large, bare feet poked out from a sheet on the other side of the trailer.

He must have put her to bed, not wanting to disturb her sleep with husbandly demands.

A smile drifted across her face. He might be just a cowboy, but her husband had the manners of the finest gentlemen she’d ever met.

Not that she would have minded being disturbed. As a matter of fact, they needed to proceed with the consummation as soon as possible.

Heat stung her cheeks, and she sighed. She wished they’d accomplished it last night, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Now, how was she going to bring it up?

Perhaps she wouldn’t have to. Perhaps Buck would take matters in hand.

She giggled at the unintentional pun. His hands had seemed more than capable of taking care of matters last night.

But his caresses and kisses weren’t the only reason she liked him. They’d talked all the way into Reno. He seemed fascinated by everything she’d said, just as she’d been with the details he revealed about his life.

What felt so good, however, was knowing his fascination wasn’t because she was a princess. To him, she was an ordinary woman.

How often had she longed to be just an ordinary woman? To meet a man who would see beyond the brilliance of her crown to the woman beneath?

She frowned as she realized Buck didn’t know she had a crown. She wasn’t being honest with him, but she couldn’t risk it. Not yet. Not until she was certain what kind of man she was dealing with.

When she didn’t surface after a few days, her face would be splashed over every newspaper and television in America. Bonifay would offer a reward—a large one.

Melissa had told her that most rodeo contestants lived from paycheck to paycheck. From what she’d seen so far, she didn’t think Buck was the kind of man to be seduced by money. He’d refused her offer of payment, after all. But she’d only known him a few hours.

She still couldn’t believe she’d married a perfect stranger. Yet there was something about Buck that she’d trusted immediately. Though she couldn’t pinpoint a reason for her trust, somehow she was certain he wouldn’t harm her. When she first looked into his deep blue eyes, it was as if she’d known him all her life.

Was it because his eyes reminded her of the ocean surrounding Montclaire? Was it because his height and build reminded her of her father? Was it the way she felt when he’d kissed her after they’d said “I do”?

Remembering that moment, she closed her eyes to savor the things he made her feel—even hours after the contact. The scent of a hardworking man blending with the scent of a hardworking horse—she couldn’t imagine anything sexier. The caress of his warm breath on her cheek, the way his lips molded to hers.

She moaned softly as she traced her fingers over her lips.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Her eyes flew open to see Buck sitting up on the elevated bed.

Her breath caught.

Bent slightly because his head and long torso wouldn’t fit in the cramped space, he yawned and reached a muscular, naked arm up to scratch his shaggy, dark brown hair. But his arm wasn’t all that was naked. Every part of him that she could see was nude—from the wide, well-defined expanse of his chest to the strong legs ending in long, higharched feet.

Only his hips were covered. A sheet appeared to be all that lay between her gaze and his most private parts.

The warmth she’d been feeling at the memory of his kiss intensified, especially when she realized she wanted to snatch the sheet away so she could see all of him.

Never in her life had she experienced desire so sharp it felt like raw, aching need. Desire to see a naked man.

But not just any naked man. This one.

Her passion was so unfamiliar and acute, it alarmed her. Princesses didn’t have feelings like this.

Josie’s mind caught on her words.

Princesses might not have feelings like this, but ordinary women did—and that’s what she was until she returned to Montclaire. She knew she’d have to go home eventually, but until then she wasn’t going to have any more princess thoughts. She was going to enjoy every single, solitary minute of being an ordinary woman. The memory of these few weeks would have to last the rest of her life.

“You look kinda flushed, sweetheart. You too hot?” he asked.

Josie gave in to the need to giggle, something Joséphene would’ve suppressed. If only he knew how hot—and why. “I’m…fine.”

He gave her a puzzled look, then started to slide down to the narrow sliver of floor below him. As the sheet began to slide off his hips, however, he stopped. “Maybe you’d better use the bathroom first.”

She would much rather have enjoyed the show, but since he didn’t seem inclined to give her one, she realized she was in dire need of facilities. That there were any nearby surprised her. “There’s a bathroom in here?”

He pointed to the wall behind her. “You’ll have to fold up your bunk so you can open the door. I don’t have the water hooked up for a shower yet. It was late when we pulled in. But there should be enough in the tanks to flush a few times.”

Josie placed her feet on the floor and took a moment to stretch. “Where are we? Lake Tahoe?”

He rubbed a hand over his morning beard. “Yep.”

With a nod acknowledging the information, she stood and turned to fold the bed. She stared at it for a moment, then pulled the top sheet back—he hadn’t bothered with a bottom one. Uncovered, the hinges were obvious. After a minute of bending and stretching, she’d reconfigured the bed into a small couch.

Satisfied with her job, she straightened and turned to smile at Buck. The look she caught on his face trapped the air in her lungs. His eyes were like the hot blue centers of twin flames, and they were burning into her bottom.

She suddenly realized the view she’d given him, bent over in the tight jeans. He would have been able to see every curve of her form.

A shiver ran through her—part excitement, part fear.

He wanted her.

A few men had told her they wanted her, but she hadn’t really believed them. Perhaps because none had looked at her like this. They couldn’t separate the woman from the princess. She could see it in their eyes.

Buck’s own eyes rose slowly to hers, losing none of their heat during the languorous journey.

Mesmerized, Josie stared straight into the face of desire. His need inflamed her own, which excited her and frightened her even more.

“Josie, sweetheart?” he asked in a deeper, huskier voice than she remembered him having.

“Yes?” The word was hesitant, breathless.

“Either go into the bathroom, or climb up here and let’s get on with what we’re both wanting to do.”

Josie didn’t follow either suggestion. The fire burning through her veins had welded her feet to the floor.

She wanted to climb up next to him more than she wanted to see Montclaire again—ever. She wanted to run her hands over the relief map of his chest, to dig her fingers into the thick mane of dark brown hair, to press her mouth to his well-defined lips.

Then she remembered. She could. In fact, she should.

She took one hesitant step toward him. “We are married.”

She didn’t think his gaze could heat up any more, but he proved her wrong. The closer she went, the hotter his gaze grew. Finally she stood at the base of the chest-high bed, feeling as if she were burning alive.

One strong hand gently pushed back a lock of the hair that she vaguely realized was falling in wisps around her face. He glanced somewhere over her shoulder, closed his eyes as if in pain, then cussed and drew back his hand.

“We can’t,” he groaned.

“Oh. I…” Her face flaming from her rejected brazenness, Josie spun away.

Buck grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”

Too embarrassed even to face him, she waved somewhere in the direction of the bathroom.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

She turned slowly until his fingers caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “If we make love now, I won’t want to stop. Probably for days. It’s already noon and—I’m extremely sorry to say—we’ve got to attend a party tonight. We’ve got to stop somewhere along the way and get you a dress to wear. As lovely as that outfit is, it isn’t appropriate for the party.”

Panic raced through her. “Party?”

“Yeah. My mother conned me into it.”

Josie relaxed, picturing a kindly older woman, as oblivious of Montclaire’s existence as her son. “But I don’t have money for a dress.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re my wife now. I’ll buy whatever you need.”

She shook her head and dug into her jeans pocket. “I can’t allow you to do that. We’re only going to be married a few months.” She held out a pair of earrings. “I have these to sell. They’re probably worth several thousand dollars.”

Certain they were fake, Buck barely glanced at the earrings she dropped into his hand. She was so cute, thinking her costume jewelry was worth thousands of dollars. He decided not to burst her bubble. He would tell her he pawned them, then give her the money she expected.

“Can we stop at a place where I can sell them?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Let me take care of it.”

She sighed. “I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve helped me so—”

“Hush now.” Bending, he slid a finger under her chin and lifted her mouth to his. “One kiss, sweetheart. Then go.”

Chapter Three

“A princess!”

Buck snatched the newspaper from the counter of the gas station where he was getting the truck filled.

No. This couldn’t be true.

But the woman in the photo, staring stony-eyed back at him, looked exactly like Josie. Her hair was twisted up in a much more elaborate do than the one she’d taken down before they drove into Carson City, and instead of a Resistol, she was wearing a tiara.

A damned tiara.

The caption beneath the photo claimed this was Princess Joséphene Francoeur of Montclaire.

Joséphene. Josie. Josephine, she’d spelled for the court clerk last night. No coincidence. His wife was a princess. A real, honest-to-God, crown-wearing, kiss-her-hand princess.

“Princess Joséphene Missing; Feared Kidnapped,” the headline screamed.

Buck scanned the article that told how she’d attended an American friend’s wedding at the Porter ranch outside Auburn, California. The horse she’d evidently slipped away on had returned to the stable, riderless. The article went on to speculate about rumors that had been flying through the press about her imminent wedding to Alphonse Picquet, one of the richest men in Europe. By press time no one had an explanation for her disappearance, but the police were not ruling out foul play.

Foul play. Buck barked out a mirthless laugh. The only foul play had been committed by the princess herself—by conning him into marrying her.

Princess.

He threw the paper down as if it had suddenly been smeared with an offensive substance.

What the hell did she think she was doing? And why the hell had she chosen him as her scapegoat?

His eyes narrowed. Did his mother have something to do with this?

He shook his head. As much as Alicia Buchanan wished she hobnobbed with royalty, he knew damned well she didn’t.

She wasn’t going to, either. There was no way he was taking Josie to his father’s party tonight. His mother would be drooling so much they’d have to bring in buckets just to catch it all.

A damn princess. Not of some major European country, but—

Wait a minute. Royalty married royalty, didn’t they?

His mouth twisted in derision. Obviously not.

Alphonse Picquet certainly wasn’t royalty. He was a shipping tycoon whose greedy fingers reached all over the world. Buck had felt the strength of those fingers in an investment he’d made a couple of years back. Picquet had tried to play dirty. Only Buck’s quick influx of cash had saved the deal.

The guy was Eurotrash. He was more than twice Josie’s age, with all the charm and attraction of a bull moose. And if the rumors were true, his sexual appetites tended toward the bizarre and sometimes violent. The little princess had evidently heard about the women Picquet had scarred—mentally and physically—so she’d conned Buck into marrying her instead. But that was understandable—smart of her, really. It was the other.…

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