The Prince's Texas Bride / The Reluctant Princess: The Prince's Texas Bride / The Reluctant Princess

“When I was eight years old, my brother told me to never let them see me sweat.”

“That’s pretty young for that kind of instruction. What was the occasion?” he asked.

Another move due to her parents’ inability to keep jobs and pay bills. Another new school when she’d wondered how long they would stay in this place. How long until people found out her father drank away most of his paycheck? “One of those times in elementary school when the kids teased or bullied. It happens to most kids at one time or another.”

He looked at her for a long moment and frowned. “I don’t like the idea of that.”

“What?” she asked, his intent gaze making her stomach slip and slide.

“The idea of someone bullying you.”

Something in the way he looked at her made her feel as if she were taking a free fall with no net. She tried to shake it off, but wasn’t completely successful. She wasn’t accustomed to someone being protective of her. “It didn’t happen often,” she drawled.

He chuckled. “I bet it didn’t,” he said and chucked her chin with his index finger. “Do you see him often? Your brother?”

His question slid under her radar, right through her ribs. She rarely mentioned her brother because his absence from her life was still painful to her. “Eli left a long time ago. He had to go. It was the only way.” She took a quick breath and shook her head, hating the fact that Stefan had found her vulnerable spot. “Can we talk about something else?”

He paused a half beat, then nodded. “Of course. We’re here to celebrate,” he said with his most charming smile and clicked his glass against hers again.

She took a quick sip but spilled the champagne on the front of her shirt as she pulled the glass away. Frustration prickled through her. “This is why I don’t drink very often,” she muttered, futilely pulling at her shirt.

“I can see where it would be distracting during a date,” Stefan said.

Glancing up, she saw his gaze fixed on her breasts. She looked down and was mortified by the outline of her nipples against the shirt. “Oh, great. This is embarrassing,” she said and crossed her arms over her breasts. “See why I’m not big on formal parties? Even a private celebration in the seclusion of a faraway courtyard is not safe.”

Stefan took her glass and tossed it onto the soft bed of grass along with his, then took her chin in his fingers. “Trust me, Eve. If a man chooses to be with you in a courtyard, he’s not thinking of safety,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. In another lifetime, she wondered if she could have turned him away. She’d turned so many others away. But she sensed that Stefan was strong enough. Man enough. She paused a heartbeat, then opened her mouth, opened herself to him.

Something between them clicked and snapped at the same time. If she believed in that kind of thing, she would have said it was electrical. But Eve didn’t believe. At least, she never had before.

He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past her lips, tasting and testing her. She slid her hands upward to his strong shoulders, wanting to absorb his strength and power into her. The kiss turned deeply passionate, almost carnal, making her cling to him.

He murmured something delicious against her lips, and suddenly she felt the night air against her back as he unbuttoned the bottom of her shirt. His hand on the bare skin of her waist stopped her breath. Seconds later, one of his hands slid upward to her breast, and she pushed against it, resenting the barriers of her shirt and bra. She wanted to feel his skin.

Part of her was shocked at the force of her desire, but another part of her knew she’d been waiting for this—for him—for years. She felt as if she were riding a tsunami of sensation and refused to fight it. She tugged at his shirt, he pulled at hers, and buttons flung loose. Seconds later, he unfastened her bra and her breasts sprang free. He immediately covered one of her breasts with his hand.

Her nipple was hard and sensitized to his touch. He swore under his breath as he toyed with her nipple at the same time as he French-kissed her. She drank in the spicy, masculine scent of him and felt as if the world was turning sideways.

Stefan clasped his hand beneath her hips and lifted her upward. At the same time, he lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth, she felt his hardness pressed against her.

Dizzy with want, she slumped against him.

Stefan groaned, lifting his head and pulling her tightly against him. “We need to be together,” he whispered. “I want you in my bed.”

A shiver of the need he expressed raced through her. “How? Where?”

He gave a rough sound of frustration. “If it were up to me, it would be here and now. But I want privacy for the both of us.”

She sighed and tried to gather her wits. Was this what she really wanted? Was he what he really wanted? Eve was only certain of one thing. She couldn’t miss him. Stefan affected her in a way no man ever had, and she craved the ultimate closeness with him. She wanted him so much it scared her, but she wasn’t going to let her fear keep her from him.

“Then when?” she finally asked and met his gaze.

His dark eyes met hers, and she saw the strained passion there. The strength of it reassured her rather than frightened her. “You make it difficult for me not to take you now, chérie. Tomorrow night,” he said. “I’ll make arrangements for you to come to my suite. I’ll work it out tomorrow.”

A ripple of anticipation and nerves raced through her. “It may not be wise—”

He covered her lips with his fingers. “It’s beyond choice. We both feel it.”

She nodded, savoring the heat of his body. “Okay,” she said, then whispered, “But this is totally against all my rules.”

He chuckled and lifted her hand to his lips. “Mine, too, Eve. Mine, too. Now, before I give into my darker urges, I’d better walk you back to your quarters.”

“What about the champagne and the glasses?” she asked.

“Don’t worry. I’ll send a member of my security to collect them,” he said and took her hand. “Let’s go.”

The next morning, she awakened a little later than usual. Stefan had insisted she take a day of vacation. So she slept until 9:00 a.m. This was the first morning she’d woken up not feeling like she was going to hyperventilate. Not that she would admit that to a soul.

Stretching her arms, she yawned, then smiled, pleased that the parade had gone off without a hitch. She’d passed her first test. Thank goodness. A sliver of anxiety rippled through her at the thought of Stefan’s plans for tonight. Had she lost her mind? He was not only her boss, he was a prince.

He was also a man, she told herself. A man she wanted and who wanted her. Taking a deep breath, she slid out of her bed and stepped onto the carpet. Her toes appreciated the soft cushion for her first steps of the day. She realized she’d hit the ground running so much she hadn’t noticed the small comfort.

Stretching again, she walked to the tiny kitchenette and started her coffee. She peeked inside her mostly bare refrigerator and pulled out cream for her coffee, marmalade for her toast and orange juice. She popped bread in the toaster and wandered toward the door of her quarters to pick up the paper. She’d made double sure she would receive the daily paper. After the incident with the protestors, she’d decided she needed to stay informed even though the Chantaine newspaper read like an odd combination of a scandal sheet and traditional news.

The front page was filled with photographs of the parade, featuring the royal family and government officials on horseback. The largest photo showed Stefan riding with the young boy on Black. Her heart twisted at the image of him. Lord help her, the man was so handsome. She noticed the way his hand curled around the boy, holding him securely. The boy smiled broadly while Stefan’s mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile.

Fascinating man, she thought. For a moment she wondered what Stefan would be like if he weren’t a prince. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine him as a Texan. He would be a Renaissance man, she decided, with a huge empire. Obscenely successful, she thought. Nothing less would be acceptable. His woman would be … She frowned in concentration. Blonde, beautiful, but brainy. The perfect accessory on his arm.

Nothing like me.

She frowned again, feeling a stab of displeasure and immediately pushing it aside. She shook her head at herself. This was what happened when she had time on her hands. Her mind traveled down all kinds of crazy paths. She rattled the paper and refocused, scanning the rest of the front page. A headline at the bottom of the page grabbed her attention. Royal Stable Master Reports Prince’s Horse Is Worth Billions for Sperm.

Billions! She’d never said billions. Who was reporting this? She hadn’t talked to anyone … except the man at the end of the parade. Her stomach sank in realization. Even though she’d cut the conversation short, she’d obviously said more than she should.

Less than a moment later, her cell phone rang. She darted through the living area to her bedside table where she’d left it and immediately glanced at the caller ID. Her stomach sank even further. The palace office was calling.

“Hello. Eve Jackson,” she said and began to pace.

“Ms. Jackson, this is Louis calling for Franz Cyncad. We have a public relations concern. Your presence is required in the Palace Office.”

Great, she thought. Franz was right up there at the top of the food chain. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Mr. Cyncad is finalizing the appropriate strategy. He will meet with you after lunch at fourteen hundred.”

Eve bit back an oath. Not only did she know she would be disciplined or perhaps even fired, now she had to wait to hear about it. “I’ll be there.”

“Very well. Goodbye,” he said and disconnected the call.

Adrenaline pumping through her, Eve immediately went into survivor mode. With her upbringing, it was second nature. She wondered if she should go ahead and make a call to her former boss. She’d made sure to leave on good terms. She might not be able to get her exact position, but the company had been pleased with her work. Or she could start contracting for several horse ranchers. Stefan would pay her severance.

Her heart was hammering and her stomach was twisting as she glanced out her window at the cobblestone drive, the lush green trees and pink flowers. She felt a deep sense of regret twist through her. For the first time in weeks, she was acutely aware of the fact that she didn’t want to leave. She loved the horses, and her feelings for Stefan … were overwhelming. Until now, she’d been totally absorbed with the parade and intermittent bouts of homesickness she’d pushed aside. Eve had learned at a very young age that denial was an important tool of survival.

But this wasn’t her childhood, and she wasn’t going to be chased out of her home due to bankruptcy. So maybe she shouldn’t jump off the first available cliff. She took a deep breath and slowly released it.

If she was going to be fired, how did she want to spend her remaining hours on Chantaine?

Stefan? Impossible. Tonight, the night they would have made love, was never going to happen.

She swallowed over a hard lump in her throat. Pushing that option aside, she made her plans. The horses, then the beach.

Eve took a micro-shower, French-braided her hair, then visited the royal beauties in the barn and petted and cooed over them. Her heart twisted at the way they all seemed to know her. Even Black indulged her for a few moments before he stamped away.

She stood for a long moment, inhaling the scent of fresh hay and clean horses, branding it into her memory. Then she grabbed a taxi for the beach and made the driver promise to return to fetch her at twelve forty-five. Eve spread her towel on the sand, stripped down to her bikini and sat down on the beach.

She stared at the waves. Whitecaps topped azure water as the tide crashed into shore. The surf was a little rough. She would test it in a few moments, she decided. For the moment, she would focus on the sensation of sun shining on her and the way the ocean looked as if diamonds flickered on top of it.

Inhaling the unique scent of Chantaine, she tried to find a way to preserve the vanilla beachy smell in her mind, the memory of that evening ride with Stefan. All that would never happen between them flashed through her mind. Eve couldn’t stand it. She picked up her towel and scrambled up the sandy hill to the road to hail a taxi.

An hour later, Eve sat in Franz Cyncad’s office trying to look cool as she resisted the urge to drum her fingers on her black pants–clad leg. Franz was frowning. Not a good sign. He glanced up at her from behind his desk and his gold-rimmed glasses. “You spoke to Marco LaChalle yesterday during the parade,” he finally said.

“I didn’t meet anyone named Marco. I was focused on the horses and our surprise child rider. A man approached me toward the end of the parade. I barely spoke to him.”

Franz pulled off his glasses. “You told him Black could earn billions in stud fees.”

“I told him Black could earn a fortune in stud fees,” she corrected, still determined to remain calm.

“He apparently interpreted a fortune as a billion,” Franz said.

“That was his interpretation, not mine,” she said, now barely resisting the urge to fidget. Was she going to survive this or not? Based on Franz’s dour expression, she suspected not.

“Unfortunately, we must deal with Mr. LaChalle’s report. We need you to recant your position.”

It took a full moment for Franz’s comment to sink in. “I can’t do that. It would be an outright lie,” she said at the same time Stefan walked through the door. “Black is worth a fortune in stud fees.”

“He’s not ready,” Stefan said.

“Your Highness,” Franz said and stood.

Suddenly, Eve remembered she was supposed to do the curtsy thing. “Yes, Your Highness,” she said and stood. “But I disagree. As a professional,” she added. “It’s appropriate to have a specialist assess a stallion for stud purposes at the age of four. Black is over four. His pedigree is phenomenal. He has the potential to produce amazing foals.”

Stefan shot her a cool glance. “You are not the appropriate person to assess when Black should breed.”

She nodded in agreement. “True. I’m only the stable master you hired to train and advise you on your horses. So, whatever.”

Stefan blinked. “Whatever?”

“American version of do what you want. I’ve done what I can do,” she said.

His eyes narrowed. “What would you suggest, Ms. Jackson?”

Oooh, she thought. The Ms. Jackson wasn’t a good sign. “I suggest you get Black assessed by the veterinarian, then get moving with providing his sperm, at a cost, to superior mares. Spreading his sperm is part of his purpose. I’m sure Black would agree with my assessment,” she said wryly.

Stefan lifted an eyebrow and paused. “Put out a press release saying the palace is having Black assessed for stud service. Be prepared for a deluge of calls. Keep records. We’ll return calls later,” he said.

Silence followed. “Will Ms. Jackson be remaining on as stable master? Or will she be moving on?” Franz asked.

“Ms. Jackson remains,” Stefan said and turned and left the room.

Eve stared after him, stunned and uncertain.

Franz glowered at her. “God help us. More records. More return calls. Would it have been so hard to recant your position?”

“Sorry,” she said. “But yes.”

Franz sighed again. “Double the workload,” he muttered.

“It will ultimately be double the money. Black will earn his way and make your job easier. Just give it a little time.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, Ms. Jackson,” Franz said. “Chantaine’s economy is in the loo. Our people are suffering.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Cyncad, but the world economy is struggling. Everyone is suffering. We’re all going to need to get creative to find a way to get Chantaine on the high road. I’m on your side.”

“Hmm,” Franz said, putting his glasses his face and returning his attention to the laptop in front of him.

Eve waited a long moment. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Cyncad?”

“Not now, Ms. Jackson. I shall contact you if I need to. You may proceed with your plans for the day.”

Eve paused, still confused. “Thank you,” she said. “Have a good day.”

Franz gave a short nod, and Eve left the man’s office, still unsure of her status. She hadn’t been fired. Still, what about her relationship with Stefan? Would she be meeting him tonight? Or not?

Chapter Five

After her meeting with Franz and Stefan, Eve felt at loose ends. She checked on the horses, but it was a day off for them, too. After the weeks of preparation, the royal horses seemed determined to laze their day away. She did busywork in the barns and returned to her room, but she didn’t know what to do with herself.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if Stefan still wanted to be with her, but based on his curt appearance this afternoon, she couldn’t imagine her phone ringing. Her cell rang, catching her off guard. Her stomach clenched. Was it Stefan? She glanced at the caller ID and felt a stab of disappointment. It was Bridget.

“Hello,” Eve said. “How are you?”

“Bored and irritated. I was supposed to go to dinner tonight with a friend, but she bailed because she’s not feeling well. You must come with me,” she said, sounding autocratic, then changed her tone. “Pleeeeeeeeeease.”

Eve laughed despite herself. “Sorry, Bridget, but I don’t think I would be very good company tonight.”

“Oh, why not? The parade was a huge success. I took a quick glance at the photographs in the newspaper. You should be flying high,” she said.

“You obviously didn’t read the entire front page. There’s been some controversy about breeding Black, and I was called to the woodshed by Franz Cyncad.”

“Woodshed?” Bridget echoed. “What woodshed?”

“It’s a figure of speech. The woodshed is where you’re taken for punishment, a spanking.”

Bridget gasped. “Franz struck you? Does Stefan know? This is totally unaccepta—”

“No, no, no,” Eve said. “Franz didn’t spank me. He’s just very unhappy with me.”

“Oh, well, Franz is always unhappy. It’s in his job description. If you had a meeting with Franz, it’s all the more reason you should come out to dinner with me. Put on a dress and I’ll have my driver pick you up in an hour.”

“Bridget—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” the princess insisted. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, this is getting insulting. Am I such horrid company that you won’t join me even when you have nothing else to do?”

Eve sighed, still full of conflicting emotions. “Okay, okay. Thank you for inviting me.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bridget said. “Ta-ta for now.”

Although she would far prefer a barbecue place where she could wear jeans and a T-shirt, she couldn’t fight the urge to get out. She took another quick shower and pulled on a black halter dress. Instead of putting up her hair, she blow-dried and fluffed it. Since she had time, she applied a little makeup, mascara, a little bronzer, lip gloss …

Her cell phone rang. She glanced at it, hoping desperately that it was Stefan. But it wasn’t. She picked it up. “Hello. Eve Jackson,” she said.

“This is Raoul, Princess Bridget’s chauffeur,” the man said.

Her heart twisting in disappointment, she took a deep breath. “Thank you. I’ll be right down.” Grabbing a sweater, she took the stairs down to the limo.

Raoul stepped outside. “Ms. Jackson?” he said as he opened the door to the backseat.

“Thank you,” she said and climbed into the limo.

“Welcome,” Bridget said, smiling as she held two glasses of champagne, one in each hand. “Girls’ night.”

Eve remembered last night and the champagne she’d shared with Stefan. She slid into the seat and closed her mind to the memory. She accepted the glass extended to her and clicked hers to Bridget’s. “Girls’ night,” she agreed, determined to forget her rotten meeting with Franz Cyncad and the fact that Stefan was clearly displeased with her.

They went to a restaurant in a swanky section of the capital of Chantaine. Eve felt self-conscious at first because they were seated in the center of the restaurant, but Bridget chatted constantly, distracting her. The princess was clearly happy to be away from the palace.

“Do you want to get married?” Eve asked, after Bridget had stared at a hot guy who passed by them.

Bridget shrugged. “Not too early,” she said. “There’s danger in marrying too young, and I’m determined to avoid it. No kids until I’m thirty years old. I want to have some fun. What about you?”

“I haven’t thought much about marriage. I’ve always thought I would take care of myself. Safer, that way,” she said.

“Hmm,” Bridget said. “I could find a man who would take care of me. I just don’t want to give up what little freedom I have in exchange for that.”

“Same here,” Eve said and lifted her water glass in salute to Bridget. She’d switched to water awhile back.

“I’m not ready for the night to end,” Bridget said. “I know of a club close by.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Eve said.

Bridget pouted. “Why not?”

“I’m not much on clubs,” Eve said.

Bridget shook her head. “It will be a good change for you. We’ll just stay for a few minutes.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Bridget said. “It’s just one night and trust me, our clubs are nothing compared to Rome or Milan.”

“Never been to clubs in Rome or Milan. Don’t really need to go,” Eve muttered, but felt as if she were being swept forward by a force of nature. Tonight she would ride it. Tomorrow she would return to her boring self.

Forty-five minutes later, she found herself sitting at the bar while Bridget danced with a friend of a friend of a friend on a crowded dance floor. Her bodyguard, Rodney, stood nearby, shifting from one foot to the other, clearly as uncomfortable with the scene as she was. Because Eve was bored out of her mind, she decided to torture herself and checked her cell for messages. So far, there’d been none. She shouldn’t be surprised, she supposed.

She glanced at the phone and saw one missed call from Stefan. Her heart jumped, skipping several beats. Suddenly a text appeared. Where are you?

With Bridget, she texted back.

Why? Never mind.

Eve frowned. What did that mean? She shook her head. This was insane. She’d never gone crazy for any other man. Why should she start now? Stuffing her phone into her purse, she was determined not to give him another thought. At least, not tonight.

The woman was going to drive him insane, Stefan thought as his chauffeur and two of his security detail drove closer to the bar where his sister and Eve were apparently enjoying Chantaine’s nightlife. He ground his teeth at the thought of it.

“I’m sure Rodney’s had enough of this unplanned excursion,” Stefan said. He’d seen this coming with Bridget. He’d just hoped she grown more mature about accepting her duties and security protocol. “If Princess Bridget protests, escort Ms. Jackson to my limousine.”

“If she goes calmly, sir?” Georg asked.

“In that unlikely event,” Stefan said drily, “Ms. Jackson can ride with the princess.”

Four minutes and forty-five seconds later, his sister burst through the door with the assistance of two security men, screaming at the top of her lungs. Eve walked behind them. “You can’t do this. It’s my night off. I can do what I want. I could have ditched Rodney, but I didn’t. Just wait until I get my hands on Stefan. Just wait—”

Stefan watched as Eve put her hand on Bridget’s arm as if she were trying to calm her. Bridget pulled back her arm and continued to scream. His sister would likely be embarrassed tomorrow.