Crown Me, Prince Page 22
Of course I can do no such thing. Instead, I focus so diligently on one foot in front of the other that my heel gets caught. I try to regain my composure, but it’s too late. Before I can regain my balance, I tumble.
I roll down the stairs and fall in someone’s arms.
I blink.
I open my eyes and see bright blue eyes staring straight at me.
“Princess, are you okay?” a rough voice asks. The man who spoke has a scruffy beard, and he holds me tight, and I like the way I feel in his hands. I look up at him, so grateful that he caught me.
“You saved me.”
“I got you, that’s all.”
“I fell into your arms.”
“Right time, right place.” He smiles, and I remember to breathe.
He helps me up and I stand, my hands running over the wrinkled fabric of my dress. I’m flustered and embarrassed that I fell, wondering if my Prince saw that entrance.
The man holding me has his hand on the small of my back, making sure I’m steady.
“I’m Thomas,” he tells me. “Prince Lucas’s bodyguard. He entrusted me to escort you to the Royal Palace of Rochester.”
“Oh, I see. So the prince isn’t here?” I look around, seeing nothing but a sports utility vehicle parked near us. The flight crew is disembarking behind me and moving toward the small airport.
We’re alone, me and the man who stopped my fall. And right now, he’s the only person that I know in this entire country.
I step toward him, finding his presence calming. He’s the prince’s royal bodyguard, and it feels comforting to know I can trust him.
“No, the prince couldn’t make it. But he’ll be waiting for you this evening at the royal banquet.”
“A royal banquet?”
“Yes, Princess. A banquet in your honor.”
“That’s so kind.” A smile stretches across my face, but it isn’t a real one. I’m disappointed that Prince Lucas wasn’t able to greet me. Perhaps my expectations of my husband-to-be are too lofty.
My lips twist, and I’m immediately annoyed at myself as I realize it was selfish of me to assume he’d come to meet me. He’s a prince of a majestic country; he certainly has better things to do then fetch the princess meant to be his wife.
“I’ll get your things,” Thomas says. “And lead you to the car.”
“Thank you, Thomas.” I reach for his arm and pat it, my eyes widening when I feel the solid muscles beneath his uniform. I pull my hand away, wanting to focus on the fact that I’m grateful that a man with a warm face and open arms—literally—was here for me. “Thank you for coming for me. I didn’t know what to expect.”
“Neither did I.”
My eyes squint in confusion, not quite understanding his words. But before I can question him, he’s off to claim my meager suitcases filled with trinkets from home. I don’t have much clothing—this dress is my only winter apparel—but I brought skeins of yarn, knitting needles, and my sewing kit. I made sure to tuck packets of seeds in my suitcase as well, thinking that perhaps in a greenhouse I could grow some flowers from home.
Once my suitcases are in his hands, he nods toward the SUV.
“This way, Princess,” he says, his voice commanding.
I follow close behind him, and my eyes find his backside. Once again, I lose my footing and fall toward him. He doesn’t miss a beat. His arm is out, and I grab it.
“The gravel is uneven,” he says, giving me a smile as I cling to him. “So sorry, Princess,”
I nod, swallowing my embarrassment—and knowing that my misstep had nothing to do with gravel, and everything to do with his butt.
Chapter 6
In the car, buckled in and with my hands firmly on the wheel, I attempt to even my breathing. To focus on the road.
But damn, that’s a near impossible request, considering the woman next to me is more than I ever expected. She’s beautiful, for starters—long legs, heart-shaped face, narrow waist … and a gorgeous rack hidden under a fur coat.
She’s also proper, but not in an uptight way. She’s proper in an I-was-born-to-be-a-princess sort of way. Her posture is impeccable, her smile full of promise, and her cheeks pink.
I’ve been around the block plenty of times, and I’ve met many women with titles—princesses, countesses, and duchesses—but seldom have I met a woman who so naturally captures the attention of everyone around her.
The thing about Dalia is that she seems to have no idea of the effect she has on me—and, I’m guessing, the effect she has on anyone. For example, she didn’t seem to notice that the entire flight crew was smiling at her as she disembarked the plane; she won them over and she didn’t even know it. I heard the pilot tell a crewmember that Princess Dahlia was the kindest person of any royal family to have ridden in the private jet.
That comment alone wouldn’t give me pause, but on the heels of everything else about Dahlia, it does.
I start driving up the mountain, and for moment I feel as if my plan was foolish. Perhaps I should have consulted my father before I decided to play the part of a bodyguard, instead of the part of a prince.
“Is the palace far from here, Thomas?” Dalia asks.
I look over at her and see soft pearl earrings in her earlobes. I smile at the subtle sweetness she exudes. Her hands are folded in her lap; her ankles are crossed. She’s wearing a dress that reminds me of another era. Perhaps my princess is from another time altogether.
“The drive is about an hour. As you can see, the mountain ridges are quite expansive. It’s too difficult to land the plane near the palace. It’s perched upon a mountain, and it’s impossible to get there without a helicopter.”
“I saw pictures of it on the internet,” she says, “but Rochester looks so beautiful in person. Quite different from the palace I grew up in.” Dalia’s eyes are focused out the window, on the mountains we speak of. She mentioned the internet, and for a moment I pause, wondering if she recognized my face. But she doesn’t give any hint of knowing me.
“And the prince, have you spoken to him?” I ask, fishing to see what she might exaggerate, trying to find a reason to think she’s anything but perfection.
“No,” she says softly, shaking her head. “I haven’t, but my father has.”
She doesn’t reveal any more, and her ability to withhold gossip is appealing. I’d be lying if I said she hasn’t immediately captured my attention.
She fell into my arms, and I felt my heart expand.
Is that a ridiculous statement? Probably. Still, it gives me hope, and right now that’s all I want: hope that this marriage I’m about to commit to for the rest of my life won’t be a complete disaster.
“Was the flight good?” I ask her, and immediately wonder why I asked her such a mundane question. I want to know her hopes and dreams, her fears and her failures. I want to know her drive. I want to know what she loves, what she wants to contribute to the greater world, and what she wants to experience.
Of course, questions like that would be highly inappropriate for a bodyguard named Thomas to be asking the Princess. So I stick to safe questions.
“It was ... all right. Honestly, though, I would be perfectly fine with never riding in a plane again for the rest of my days. Of course, I want to visit Elexia, but ... I don’t know. It was a little frightening, to be honest. It was my first time on an airplane.”
“But your sisters? They recently married and moved to other countries. Do you have any desire to visit them?”
Dahlia swivels her head from the window to meet my gaze, and for a moment our eyes me. I’m unable to stop a smile from spreading across my face.
Dahlia smiles back at me. “I honestly didn’t know what to expect of anyone here. It’s so different from home. Honestly, I’m a little nervous about it all.” Her words trail off, and she looks out the window as she collects her thoughts. “But to answer your question, yes, of course I would like to visit my sisters. They’re my best friends, and we’ve never b
een apart before.”
My jaw tenses as I drive through the snow. It’s falling faster, and I need to focus. Still, my mind is running a million miles a minute—wondering if I made a grave error, pretending to be someone I’m not.
Right now would be the perfect moment to stop the SUV, pull Dahlia into my arms, and tell her we can go visit her sisters anytime she desires, or we can fly them here night or day.
Of course, as Thomas I can’t say those things. So, instead, I nod and keep my eyes on the road.
“I’m an only child myself,” I tell her. “Much like Prince Lucas. I always wanted siblings.”
“Yes, I couldn’t imagine growing up alone. My sisters and I are as different as three sisters could be, but we share a bond that can’t be broken even though we are scattered across the world.”
The car is silent for a moment, with her probably thinking of her past, and me thinking of getting back to the castle, changing into my dinner clothes, and telling her who I really am. Barely fifteen minutes into the drive, and I already feel like this was a mistake.
“Thomas,” she says, reaching for my arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world to come to me for assurance.
I hate to admit it, but it feels pretty fucking natural to me, too. We’ve known one another less than an hour, and all I want is to show her she’s mine— to show her I’ll be the prince she deserves.
“It’s snowing quite hard. Are the roads safe?” Dalia points toward the cliff ahead. She’s right. The road leading toward the palace is a snow-blur.
“Fuck,” I say, shaking my head. The tires are spinning and I’m not sure we’re going to be able to drive much further. “Excuse me. That was inappropriate. It’s just that you’re right; that’s a lot of snow.”
“Is it safe to drive?”
“Let’s keep going. I’m sure we can make it back to the castle before the storm hits.” All I can think is that I’ve got to get us home. If this storm stops us, we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.
“I hope so.” Dalia looks at me nervously. “I really want to meet my prince.”
Chapter 7
The snow falls hard.
What started as a slight flurry when I disembarked from the plane has turned into a full-on storm. The sky is covered with a thick sheet of white, and the windshield wipers whip violently, working in overdrive. I bite my bottom lip, not knowing how to help the situation.
Thomas’s hands grip the wheel tight, and he’s steering the vehicle with agile movements. I may have never spent time in the snow, but it’s obvious that navigating it takes a lot of care and precision.
“I’ve been through a lot of hurricanes,” I tell him. “But this? I’ve never seen snow before.”
“This snowstorm came out of nowhere.”
I instinctively wrap my hand around the door handle, bracing myself as the tires skid on the road. I glance at Thomas, and his eyes are set on the road, concentrating. He has command of the vehicle, but we can hardly see three feet in front of us.
“I’m going to keep driving as long as we can. There’s no phone reception on this part of the mountain, so if we get stuck it might be a while.”
“Do you think that might happen?” Just as I ask, the SUV slides, and crashes into a snow bank on the side of the narrow road.
My heart races, and Thomas reaches for me, his eyes full of concern. “Princess, are you all right? Are you scared?” His hand is on my knee, pulling me toward him.
I tell him the truth: “I’m not scared because you’re with me.”
He leans toward me, and for a second I have the irrational idea that he is going to kiss me. And, even more irrational, I want him to. He makes me feel so safe, and right now that’s what my body craves. Needs.
But then he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and leans away, and I remember to breathe.
“I need to check the damage,” he says as he tries to open his door. It won’t budge; it’s against the snow bank and isn’t giving an inch.
I look out the passenger window. My door isn’t obstructed at all, so I push it open and step out of the car. My feet immediately sink into the deep snow.
“Is there always this much snow in Rochester?” I ask.
Thomas crawls over my seat to get out of the vehicle. “Usually, yes,” he says as he jumps out of the car. “In the high summer months there’s less, but there’s always snow on the ground. You have to go much lower, to the base of the mountain, to see the green valley in the summer. It’s beautiful—but a different sort of beauty, for sure.”
“There are lots of definitions for beauty, aren’t there?” I ask him. I’m thinking that this bodyguard is perhaps the most unexpected type of beauty I’ve ever seen. His beard is rugged and rough. His eyes are bright like the mountains, his shoulders strong, and his arms capable. Everything about him screams Man.
It makes my body scream too.
Okay, not scream; I’m really not a screamer.
But melt? Yes.
There’s plenty of panty-melting happening with every glance, every touch, every word.
“You’re going to freeze, Princess,” he says, lifting me out of the snow by my waist and setting me back in the SUV. “Your feet must be frozen?”
“Not yet. I’m tough.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asks, cocking an eye at me as if he doesn’t believe a word I say.
“It’s true. I always do the dirty work at the castle.”
“Dirty work isn’t the same as being tough,” Thomas counters.
“Oh, yes it is. If you’re not tough, you can’t handle the dirty work.”
“And what dirty work do they make you do, Princess?” Thomas asks as he reaches behind my seat and procures a blanket. Setting it on my lap, he goes the extra mile, unfolds it, and wraps it around my soaking wet feet.
“I do the cleaning, the washing, the mending. The cooking and the baking.” I smirk at his shocked expression. “What, you think all princesses do is sit around eating bonbons all day?”
“I have no idea what princesses do, I’m an only child, remember?”
I laugh. “Well, even if you weren’t, your sister wouldn’t be a princess.”
Thomas narrows his eyes at me and I feel my cheeks flush, realizing that sounded rude.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t called for.” I smile, wishing for a rewind button. “Of course your sister would be a princess. All girls are, aren’t they?”
“Something like that,” he says quietly. He reaches under my seat and grabs a radio. “I’ll see if I can get this to work.”
Then he walks around the front of the car, assessing what he might be able to do to get us out of this mess.
As he’s on the radio, I scope out my surroundings. There are evergreen trees around us, the holly I read about dripping from bushes, and white snow positively everywhere.
My eyes work overtime. Everything is so new, so different. I see a deer running through the trees, with a smaller deer trailing behind. A flock of birds takes flight from a tree branch, and when they do, I see something in the distance.
Something that gives me hope.
When Thomas comes back around, he has a sour look on his face.
“Sorry, I can’t get the car out alone. I need help and I don’t think I’ll be finding it here.”
“Did you radio for help?”
“I tried, but can’t get a signal. I’m going to have to hike a bit to get somewhere that the forest is less dense.”
I smile. Well, beam really.
“What are you grinning for?” he asks. “You do realize we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, in the freezing cold?”
“True, but I know what would help.”
“You do?” His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I feel as if I can read his mind—as if I know exactly what would help.
And it has nothing to do with a tow truck, and everything to do with his hands on my body, warming us both up.
I blink, because that won’t help a
nything. In fact, those notions will only mess up everything.
“A cabin, straight ahead,” I tell him, pointing at the chalet tucked away on the mountain, barely visible from the road unless you were craning your neck—unless a flock of birds took flight.
Unless you needed it to appear, magically.
Thomas’s eyes light up. He claps his hands. “Princess, you are something else.”
Then he flings me over his shoulder, my ass inches from his face.
“Thomas,” I laugh. “Put me down.”
“No way in hell, Princess. Not in those heels.”
I let him carry me through the woods, more grateful that I chose to wear these shoes than I’d ever admit.
These shoes are what got me in Thomas’s arms ... which is exactly where I want to be.
Chapter 8
The snow falls, whirling around us, but I have a tight hold on my princess. There’s no way in hell I’m letting her go.
With her flung over my shoulder, I traipse through the woods toward an unmarked cabin I’ve never seen before, off the beaten path and burrowed deep. I don’t see any smoke from the chimney, but hope like hell I’m just missing something, that there’s someone here who can help me get my Land Rover out of the snowbank.
I radioed the palace, telling Thomas what had happened. He was concerned—with reason—but agreed to wait to send backup until I assessed the situation a bit more.
He asked about Dahlia, but I blamed my lack of answer on a fuzzy radio connection. He laughed as I ended the call, and I couldn’t help but smile myself. After one conversation where sincerity dripped from every word she spoke, all I wanted was to warm Dahlia up—in more ways then one.
“It’s so cold,” she says, rubbing her hands together as I set her down on the cabin’s front steps.
“I know, sweetheart.” Realizing my mistake, I cough and look down. Damn it, though—I want to be affectionate with her. She brings out this protective desire in me. I want to take care of her and scoop her back up in my arms. I want to carry her over the threshold and start our life together right here, right now.