The Prince's Texas Bride (8 page)

“I can't bank on that. I'm the number-one girl now, and I don't like it,” she confessed. “I don't want to be irresponsible, but I don't know how Valentina managed this. I think Stefan needs a wife.”

Strangling over the bite she'd just taken, Eve snapped her head up. “A wife?” she echoed weakly.

“Yes, it's perfect. Stefan needs a wife who can take over the bulk of the royal duties. Then I could just be free. So, I'm starting my research today,” she said, booting up her laptop. “If I put enough women in Stefan's path, surely he will want to marry one of them.” She clicked on the notebook mouse and swayed the screen toward Eve.

A beautiful, sophisticated blonde appeared on the screen. “A duchess in Sweden. I think Stefan is partial to blondes. He had a passionate affair with a Swedish model a few years ago. What do you think?”

Eve took a sip of water and felt her appetite disappear like a vapor. “I have no idea,” she managed and took another sip.

Bridget frowned. “But what do you think of the idea? I think it's a win-win for everyone. He's been so busy during the last two years he hasn't taken the time to have a relationship, and I have to believe a regular love life would improve his disposition.”

Eve strangled over the water and set her cup on her desk. “Oh.”

“Plus the advisers would be thrilled. The whole country would be thrilled. And when Stefan's new wife takes over the high-profile duties,” Bridget said with a cagey smile, “I will be thrilled. So help me select a few contenders. I could invite them here for some beach time and a palace party.”

“You're going to invite them all at the same time?” Eve couldn't resist asking. “Maybe you should make it a reality show.”

Bridget's eyes glowed with enthusiasm. “What a fabulous idea.”

“I was joking,” Eve said. “I'm not sure Stefan would appreciate your manipulating his love life. How would you feel if he did the same to you?”

Bridget waved her hand. “Oh, he's done it to me a thousand times. I'm surprised he didn't try to get me engaged before I hit puberty. Stefan wants all of us to marry in a way that benefits Chantaine. When he finally gets around to getting married, I'm sure he'll choose a
woman who can benefit the country in a multitude of ways.”

“I realize it's not my place to ask, but what about love?” Eve asked.

Bridget shrugged. “I'm not sure love comes into it. Whoever he marries will bear a ton of duty and responsibility. High-profile appearances, bearing children, never publicly disagreeing with Stefan.”

“That lets me out,” Eve muttered.

“Pardon?” Bridget said.

“That lets any woman like me out of the running. If I strongly disagree, I can't hide it,” she said.

Bridget giggled. “Now, that's the funniest thing I've heard in days. You and Stefan together? The advisers would fall over in one swoop. I wouldn't be surprised if an earthquake wouldn't swallow the palace whole.”

“Glad I could amuse you,” Eve said drily, then shook her head. “I'm glad I'm not Stefan. I would like to marry for love.”

Bridget turned sober. “Hmm. The crown princes have always married for duty and often had mistresses on the side. My father did, as did his father.”

“Didn't that bother your mother?” Eve asked.

“I think she was totally enamored with my father in the beginning. We don't discuss this, but she was second choice. His first love bailed on him. My mother definitely did her part in the child-bearing department. Not so much the child-rearing. My father was a playboy from the time he was a teenager until the last couple of years of his life.”

“And Stefan is determined to live down that reputation,” Eve mused.

Bridget nodded. “Exactly. All the more reason I should help him.” She clicked her mouse and a photo
of another gorgeous woman flashed up on the screen. “What do you think of her?”

“I can't help you, Bridget. I've got horses to train,” she said and stood.

“But you haven't eaten the lunch I brought you,” Bridget protested. “Come on, this could be enormous fun. Much more fun than working on a charity fundraiser.”

“I'll help you with a charity fundraiser, but I'm not touching this.”

“I'll hold you to it,” she said and shoved her laptop into her pink bag. She grabbed her carton of Chinese. “We'll talk later. Ta-ta for now. If you won't help me select Stefan's future bride, then I'll just get a facial.”

 

For the next few days, Eve brooded over everything Bridget had told her about Stefan. She wondered about his past affairs. She wondered what he wanted in a wife. She wondered why in the world he was involved with her. She was not blonde, not pedigreed, not submissive or politically correct.

It wasn't as if this was a long-term relationship, she reminded herself, even though the thought pinched. It was just something they had to do. For some inexplicable reason, they had to be with each other for this time. However short it was.

 

Stefan managed to leave Paris a couple hours earlier than planned. After an intense week of meetings with various diplomats and businessmen, he was looking forward to a relaxing evening with Eve. One of his long-time advisers, Tomas, however was determined to receive a detailed account of his trip. Stefan sent a text
to Eve to save room for a late dinner during their ride on the beach.

“We must provide more jobs for our people. We must improve our economy,” Tomas said.

“I'm working on that nonstop,” Stefan said. “But you know I haven't had the cooperation I've needed.”

“True,” Tomas conceded, nodding his white head in response. “You're much more of a fighter than your father was. The people are afraid to believe but want to hope.”

“I won't be taking a trip on the royal yacht with a bunch of playboy bunnies anytime soon,” Stefan said.

Tomas nodded. “Speaking of women, though, the time has come for you to find a wife. It would benefit everyone, including you.”

“That's way down the list for me, Tomas,” Stefan said.

“It shouldn't be,” Tomas insisted, drawing his scraggly eyebrows into a frown. “The other advisers and I have some suggestions for you to consider.”

Stefan shook his head. “That's not necessary.”

“Oh, but it is,” Tomas said. “I'd like you to escort one of our candidates at the royal dinner next week.”

Stefan sighed. “You know I'll have no time to entertain a woman, let alone talk to her.”

“You have no need for concern,” Tomas said. “The other advisers and I will help.”

Great, Stefan thought. The candidate would be entertained by a bunch of geezers. Any woman in her right mind would run screaming. “Fine, fine,” he said, glancing at his watch. “We'll discuss more at our next meeting.” He stood. “Thank you very much for coming, Tomas. As always, your loyalty humbles me.”

Tomas also stood. “I am proud to serve you, sir.”

As soon as Tomas left, Stefan raced to his quarters, giving instructions to the kitchen as he changed clothes. As he walked out of his room, a staff member delivered a basket with food.

“Thank you,” Stefan said.

“Your Highness,” the staff member said. “Are you sure you wouldn't prefer another staff member to carry the basket for you?”

Stefan chuckled. “I think I can manage. Have a good evening.”

“Yes, sir. You, too,” the kitchen boy said.

Stefan smiled. “I'll do my best.” He'd already informed security of his plans for the evening. A car pulled up next to the private exit as he stepped outside the door. Despite his long day of travel, he could have easily jogged to the stables, but riding in the car would appease security. Less than five minutes later, he arrived at the stables.

“Sir, are you sure you don't want us to bring the basket for you?” Franco asked.

“I know I seem feeble, but I can manage it,” Stefan cracked.

Franco unsuccessfully muffled a chuckle. “Sir, you are anything but feeble. I ask only for your convenience.”

“To be perfectly honest, Franco, I don't want you anywhere near me tonight,” Stefan said. “In fact, I'm going to pretend you don't exist.”

“Point taken, sir,” Franco responded. “We will be invisible.”

“Thank you,” he said and stepped out of the car. He walked inside the stable and heard the sound of Eve's voice. He paused, listening to her coo at Gus. He heard Black stomping in his stall, almost as if he were jealous. Heaven help him, he understood. He, too, wanted
Eve cooing over him. Ridiculous, he thought and strode toward her.

She must have heard him because she turned and her eyes lit, making him feel alive inside. “Welcome back,” she said. “How was France? Eat any croissants for me?”

He stepped toward her, dropped the basket and pulled her into his arms. “It's good to see you. Only one croissant. I spent half my time wondering what you would think of Paris.”

“And the other half?” she asked.

“Working,” he said. “Tell me you missed me.”

“A little,” she said.

He kissed her, and she sighed.

“Okay, a lot. How'd you score the basket of food so quickly?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I have a few connections.” He glanced at Gus, already saddled and ready to go. “How's Black?”

“Ready for a ride,” she said with a meaningful nod. “I didn't saddle him because I didn't want to try his patience.”

“It won't take me a moment,” he said.

S
tefan watched Eve ride the horse with a combination of grace and sensuality that mesmerized him. He couldn't help remembering the way she'd ridden him, bringing both of them to incredible, forbidden pleasure. He wanted her again. Worse, he craved her. She'd made him feel whole and fulfilled. The sensation couldn't last, he assured himself, for Eve or him. But until it faltered, he was determined to keep her.

He allowed her to lead the way on the path to the beach even though Black protested. He clearly wanted the alpha role. Stefan would allow that on the return ride.

As soon as they hit sand, however, Gus began to run. Seconds later, Black followed, easily passing Gus. A few seconds later, Stefan saw the fire his staff had built in preparation for his evening with Eve. He reined in Black.

Hearing the slowing hoofbeats of Gus, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Eve reining in her mount. She glanced at the fire. “How did this happen?” she asked.

“I'm a magician,” he said. “I wish for it and,” he snapped his fingers, “it happens.”

She paused a second. “You're full of bull.”

He laughed. “Just sharing a legend. Myths and legends are important.”

“Maybe,” she said skeptically, but dismounted. “Is this when we eat?”

“Sounds like a good time to me,” he said and dismounted Black. As soon as Eve slid off of her mount, he led both horses to a tree and tied them to it. “Behave,” he said to Black and patted the horse.

Turning around, he looked at her as she sat on the blanket. She'd removed her black Stetson and her hair splayed over her shoulders and down her back. With the fire lighting her skin, she glanced up at him and her lips tilted in a mysterious smile, making him wonder what she was thinking.

She looked into the basket and pulled out the sandwiches the chef had prepared, along with the bottle of wine and chocolates. “Not bad, but I imagine this is a step down from Paris.”

“Not at all,” he said, sinking to the blanket beside her. “The company is far superior.”

Her smile grew. “Oops. You're being charming. I better watch out.” She unwrapped a sandwich while he poured the wine into two glasses. “Was the trip successful?”

He nodded. “Three of the consultants are committed to working on events that will include Chantaine.” He gave her a glass of wine and clicked his against hers.
“Enough about my trip. What has been happening here since I left?”

“The veterinary specialist came to evaluate Black as a stud,” she said.

“And?” he asked.

“In human language, he's quite virile and has the capacity to make many prize foals.”

He grinned at her evaluation. “There's more value in being one of many.”

“One?” she said, in exasperation. “You're not suggesting that Black should only sire one foal?”

“No, but we will be very selective about which mares will be allowed to carry on his line.”

She relaxed slightly. “No problem. I'm sure we can get the best mares lining up for a stud anytime you say the word.” She swirled the wine in her glass. “Speaking of stud service, your sister has decided you need a wife. She's putting together a list of prospects to…relax you.”

The notion of Bridget having a clue about what kind of woman he would want was so hilarious that he roared with laughter. He quickly noticed that Eve didn't share his amusement.

“You realize how ridiculous that is, don't you?” he asked her.

“You need to get married sometime,” Eve said with a shrug. “You need a wife to perform all the royal duties including continuing your family's line.”

“Now you're sounding like the advisers,” he muttered and took another sip of wine.

“They want you to get married, too?” she asked.

“They've wanted me to get married since I turned twenty-one. You have no idea how many times I've
heard the line ‘for the good of the country' when it comes to my love life,” he said.

Surprise flickered across her face. “You seem to embrace all of your other duties easily enough. Why shirk this one?”

“I'm not shirking it. I just refuse to be pushed into it. I have plenty of time,” he said. “If you see my name matched with a woman, rest assured it's wishful thinking.”

“So there's no fiancée waiting in the wings,” she said. “Because I wouldn't want to feel like I'm—poaching.”

He leaned toward her and slid his hand behind her neck to bring her lips closer to his. “You're not,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

They enjoyed a companionable meal and a walk along the edge of the ocean. He slid his hand through hers, liking the combination of calluses and smooth skin. “Are you still homesick for Texas?”

“Some,” she confessed. “I miss my aunt and the familiarity of everything there. And barbecue. There's no barbecue here.”

“I'm sure the chef could prepare barbecue—”

“Don't you be giving your chef any extra work because of me. He has enough to do pleasing you, your sisters and guests,” she fussed.

“Our chef is accustomed to preparing dishes for all our international guests. Why should you be any different?” he asked.

“I'm not a guest,” she said. “I'm staff.”

He scoffed. “Maybe
I
want barbecue,” he said.

She laughed and the sound created a ripple of pleasure inside him. “You're crazy.”

“Maybe,” he said and pulled her against him, in
haling her scent. “It's good to see you, to be with you tonight.”

Her gaze met his and she nodded. “It is.” She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them. “It's almost magical, the breeze, the time alone….”

His gut twisted and he was filled with a shocking longing to steal Eve away for a week or more away from everyone and everything. His schedule was packed. It was impossible. But it didn't keep him from wanting. He allowed himself another taste of her, taking her lips and kissing her.

She slipped her arms around him and he felt the thud of arousal in his blood. If he were anyone else, he would take her on the beach with the breeze kissing their skin and the sound of the surf flowing over them. But he wasn't someone else. He was the Crown Prince of Chantaine, and he refused to be the same kind of man his father had been. Hearing Black snort and paw, Stefan held Eve against him for a long moment, then released her reluctantly. “We should go. The horses are getting restless,” he said.

 

They returned to the barn and each put away their mounts. Stefan ached with the need to bring Eve back to his suite with him, but he wanted her one way: willing. He kissed her lightly on the lips, then moved away. Any longer would have presented too much of a temptation. “I don't want you to feel like I'm giving you a booty call, so the next move is yours. You have my cell number. You can call or text me.”

Eve gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

“I said, you make the next move. Thank you for a wonderful evening. I've instructed one of my security
to escort you to your quarters. Good night,” he said and turned away.

“We don't do that in Texas,” she said, stopping him mid-stride.

He turned around. “You don't do what?” he asked.

She
almost
squirmed. “Women don't give booty calls.”

Amused, he lifted an eyebrow. “You're not in Texas anymore.”

She shook her head and gave a sound of frustration. “How exactly am I supposed to give a crown prince a booty call?”

Pleased that she was interested in calling him, he smiled. “You'll figure it out. Ciao, Beautiful.”

“I'm not beautiful,” she called after him.

“Come to my bed and you'll never say that again,” he said over his shoulder and let her stew over that. He knew she would. It was small comfort considering he would be taking an ice-cold shower before he went to bed tonight.

Exasperated beyond sanity, Eve stared after him as he walked away and stuck out her tongue.
As if
she would ever give a booty call to anyone, let alone a prince. It didn't matter who it was, she just wouldn't do it. She stomped around the barn, doing a last check on the horses, then turned out all the lights except one. Still grumpy, she stared at the door where she'd last seen his smart, sensual mouth curve into a sexy smile and stuck out her tongue again.

Someone cleared their throat, scaring the wits out of her. “Who is it? Who's there?”

“It's Max Roberts, ma'am, with his Royal Highness's security,” an extremely fit gray-haired man said as he stepped from the shadows. “I'm sorry if I startled
you. His Highness requested that I escort you to your quarters.”

“How long have you been here?” she asked suspiciously.

“Since His Royal Highness departed the building,” he said.

“Oh, great,” she said. “I suppose you'll tell him all about the fact that I stuck out my tongue at him.”

Max's lips barely twitched. “It would bring me great joy, but I wouldn't dream of bringing you any pain.”

She laughed, despite her discomfort. “A gentleman,” she said. “How did I get so lucky?”

“A beautiful American,” he echoed. “How did I get so lucky?” He paused a half beat. “Don't worry. I'm not hitting on you. You're just loads more interesting than most of the visitors I'm asked to escort.”

“Such as?” she asked, moving toward him.

“I'm not at liberty to disclose that information.”

“Discreet,” she said. “You're a man after my own heart. Take me home, Max. Any insider info you can give me on His Highlyness?”

“You just said you appreciated discretion,” he said as he led her out the door.

“Yes, but there's a difference between discretion and stinginess,” she said, because she had to try.

“What kind of music do you like, Ms. Jackson?” he asked, clearly changing the station.

“Stingy it is,” she said with a sigh.

That night, Eve tossed and turned. She threw the covers off of her, then dragged them back over her. Her dreams held images of Stefan. She ran to him, but then he disappeared. By the time she awakened before dawn, she was completely cranky. Sipping a cup of coffee after
her shower, she scowled at her cell phone. Why did she have to be the one to call? She scowled again.

Through her irritable mind, an idea occurred to her. The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her wits and dialed Stefan's number.

“Good morning, Ms. Jackson,” he said, sounding far more awake than she did. “How are you?”

“Great,” she said, her heart racing. “And you?”

“I'm good. What can I do for you?”

“May I join you for breakfast?”

A silence passed, and she wondered if she had made a mistake. “Or not,” she said. “If it's not convenient and—”

“I would like that very much. How soon can you join me?” he asked.

She raked her hand through her damp hair and glanced at her robe. “Twenty minutes?”

“Make it ten,” he said. “And take the north entrance using the pass code of 3663. See ya,” he said, mocking her Texas drawl before he disconnected the call.

Eve stared at her cell phone, then shook her head. “Nine minutes,” she muttered and stripped off her towel as she headed for her bedroom. She dressed in clothes for work with her hair drying in damp waves. Clamping her hat on her head, she dashed out her apartment door and ran down the stairs to the narrow cobblestone road. She rushed, then realized she shouldn't, and deliberately slowed her gait. Entering the code, she pushed the door open and climbed the stairs to Stefan's suite.

She barely knocked on the door before he opened the door, dressed in an unbuttoned white shirt and black slacks. She suspected a tie and meetings were in his future.

“I'm impressed. You almost made it on time,” he said and motioned her inside.

She removed her hat and shook her head. “It occurred to me that a gentleman should never rush a woman, and ten minutes is rushing.”

“The rush was for me,” he said. “I wanted as much time with you as possible. Full American breakfast.”

Eve saw the table set with fine china and sterling-covered serving dishes and was stunned. “Do you do this every day?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “I have boiled eggs, a protein shake or a protein bar.” He lifted one of the sterling covers. “And never ever sausage gravy and biscuits.”

Eve was flattered beyond words. “Sausage gravy and biscuits?” she echoed. “I don't know what to say.”

“Don't,” he said. “Just eat and remember a protein bar is in your future tomorrow.”

She laughed and looked down at the table. “Yes, Your Highlyness.”

“That name is irritating to me,” he said.

“My aunt coined it with your sister Valentina,” she said and dug in to her meal. “It's a term of affection.”

“Why don't I believe you?” he asked.

“Because you're a suspicious, jaded, cynical man?” she asked and took a bite of a biscuit with gravy that was almost as good as her aunt's. “This is so good. Almost as good as—”

“Your aunt Hildie's?” he asked, taking a bite of eggs and biscuit. “She gave the recipe to the chef when she visited with Valentina.”

Eve laughed. “So like her. She left something out. I can taste it.”

Stefan frowned. “What? She tricked my chef?”

“Not exactly tricked,” Eve said. “She just didn't tell all. Think about it. You don't always tell all, do you?”

“Such as?” he asked.

“Just curious,” she said. “How serious was that relationship you had with the Swedish model a few years ago?”

Stefan groaned. “Maja. Big mistake. Drama queen, and after we'd become involved, she decided she wanted to be Crown Princess of Chantaine.”