“But...” she quickly continued, “I don’t want to rush things.”
“And I do not wish to pressure you.” He caressed her hand. “You do not need to answer me now about marriage. I just want you to know I am serious about us and covet having a future together.”
She could see the truth of his statement in his eyes. He wasn’t saying this to get something from her or to lead her on. He truly wanted to be with her.
Deep inside, she knew she wanted to be with him too. Even though their predicament was dangerous, she was relishing every extra moment they’d been given. Tomorrow would come too soon, and the prospect of his leaving was only getting harder to think about.
How had she fallen for him this quickly? How was it possible she was in love with him? Because now that she’d confessed her love for him aloud, she realized she felt that love deep inside, all the way to her bones.
Maybe she was experiencing the McQuaid legacy of love after all.
She wasn’t sure, but she did know she wanted to talk more before agreeing to marry him. She supposed she was too much of a planner, too detail-oriented, too calculating to simply throw away all caution and agree to marry him without any discussion on how it would all work.
She patted the spot beside her. “Can we discuss this more? There are so many logistics we need to think about.”
He rose and then lowered himself onto the couch, keeping several inches between them—several inches too much.
Now that they’d kissed and declared their love and talked about marriage, she wanted to be close to him, to curl up againsthim and have him hold her. She’d kept up her guard, hadn’t let herself dream of having more with him, had tried to remain realistic about them. But now... she couldn’t stop her heart from wanting to have everything. Her pulse was beating hard with a need for him that had been unleashed and could no longer be contained.
“You can sit closer and hold me,” she whispered.
He hesitated.
“I promise I’ll behave,” she teased as she walked two fingers up his arm in a pretend enticement.
“I am more concerned about my own ability tobehavethan yours.” He slanted a sideways look at her—a short one, but long enough for her to see the heat in his gaze and to know her presence affected him.
She dropped her fingers from his arm and reached for his hand instead. As her fingers wound around his, he flipped his hand over and intertwined their fingers securely, resting their hands on the couch in the space that separated them.
They were both quiet. She was relishing his touch, the strength of his hold, the possessive curl of his fingers. Was she really sitting next to him, holding his hand? A thrill whispered through her—a thrill that made her almost lightheaded.
After the breakup with Ryan and the past year of feeling rejected, she had never imagined she would fall in love this way.
“A marriage to a prince such as myself would come with challenges,” he said after a moment. “I would wish to spare you as many of those challenges as possible, but I am afraid some are unavoidable.”
“I’m not afraid of challenges.”
He gave her a small smile. “That is true. You are a strong woman.”
“Be honest with me, Max.” Not that his honesty would change her feelings for him. But she did need to know what shemight be getting herself into if she agreed to marry him. “What will be some of the hardest parts about being your wife?”
“Being constantly in the spotlight and having the paparazzi interested and prying into your personal life.”
She’d witnessed her brother Brock going through all of that. It hadn’t always been easy for him, especially when unfair and untrue rumors circulated about him. But he’d learned how to handle the pressure. “I’m not worried about the spotlight or paparazzi.”
“It can be difficult and daunting during those times we wish for privacy and instead our secrets are made public.”
“Like when you broke up with Sarah?”
“Yes. The media will turn everything into a sensationalized story. As a result, it puts a great deal of pressure upon everyone.”
“I’m sorry that you were feeling so much pressure.” She could only imagine that had been part of the pressure he’d been trying to avoid when he’d arrived at the ranch. She brushed her fingers over his. “What else will be hard about being your wife?”
“My wife will also have certain responsibilities, public appearances, and traditions and customs to uphold.”
“Like what?”
They settled into the sofa, and he shared about what she would experience as a princess married to him and then what she could expect if she became queen someday. The duties sounded a lot like what she was already doing as an event manager, except on a larger scale in helping to coordinate parties and events for the royal household, attending charities and benefits, representing the family’s interests, and caring about the people of the nation.
