Page 21 of A Prince for Christmas

“That’s impossible,” I said weakly. “He’d have a… A bodyguard or something.”

“Why do you look so upset?” Lizzie asked. “You just brought home Nicholas Lancaster, the Quiet Prince. His brother is flashy and makes the tabloids more, but Nick is first in line for the Throne, and sure to get there, if you figure out the relative ages of the other two possibilities. And the two of you seem pretty friendly, which means we could all soon be royalty!”

My head was spinning. Jenny seemed so proud, but I couldn’t muster the same excitement. Instead, I felt stupid, naive, and somehow betrayed. Why hadn’t he told me? He’d never given even a hint. And that wasn’t some small thing to lie about, like eating someone’s awful cooking and saying it was delicious just to spare their feelings.

Before seeing his house, I’d guessed he wasn’t going home for Christmas because money was tight. After all, wait staff didn’t make that much at a place like ours, and transatlantic flights were costly.

But obviously that wasn’t the case. The best explanation I could come up with was that I was just a diversion, someone to occupy his time while he finished up his education, company until he went home to his privileged life and his royal friends. That was better than thinking he’d been laughing at me behind my back all this time because I hadn’t realized who he was. I just didn’t pay much attention to famous people, especially ones from other countries. Maybe if he’d told me he was the Duke of Whatever, I’d have realized it from the start. But he’d introduced himself like he was any other commoner.

That’s what royal people called us, right?

All I could think was that I needed to get away—away from my teasing sisters, away from the fact that my budding dreams of love had just come crashing down, away from Nick.

I jumped up, made an excuse, and hastily left the porch. I needed some time alone to sort out my thoughts, without my sisters or my mother or father.

As for Nick… Nick!

He’d left with my dad to go tend to Bessie. I swayed on my feet. If my dad had convinced the prince of England to stick his arm up Bessie’s butt, I would just die! I took off for the barn at a dead run, hoping against hope that my father hadn’t done anything to embarrass me too badly in the eyes of the prince.

The barn was down the hill from the house, and I was a little out of breath by the time I got there. I couldn’t think of anything but the unfolding disaster.

Nick was just coming out of the barn, looking a little shell-shocked and grinning like a fool. My father was a few steps behind him.

“Your boy here just helped with the birth of a beautiful little Jersey heifer,” Dad boasted. “I don’t think he’s got a medical career any time in his future, but he didn’t faint dead away, which is more than I expected, if I’m honest.”

I fixed him with a glare that could drop the temperature of a Montana winter, and he edged away.

Nick was busy filling me in. “Emily, that was amazing! I helped bring a life into the world. I even helped dry her off. Can you imagine? Me, helping birth a cow!” He grinned so widely you’d think he was the one who’d given birth. His smile only fueled my anger.

My father had seen the look on my face and diplomatically disappeared—or maybe he’d run for cover.

“Did you name her Princess, your highness?” I had no idea what his title was, and I didn’t care. He’d lied to me.

Nick looked like he’d just eaten an unripe grape.

“When were you going to tell me?” I demanded. “After I made a fool of myself over you?”

When he didn’t answer, I turned and ran into the barn, leaving Nick standing in the snow, his mouth open in shock.

CHAPTER 9

Our barn still had a hayloft, although we hadn’t stored hay there in years due to fire danger. Over the years it had become a repository for extra tack, tools, and old furniture Mom had replaced but that Dad thought was too good to throw out.

That’s where I headed, up the steep steps and toward the back of the loft. I’d been coming to the loft since I was a little girl to nurse my hurts and cry when I needed to, and I headed for my favorite old couch, a relic from the 1940’s, dark red velvet worn bare in spots and horsehair cushions that never seemed to go flat.

Before I could reach my refuge, though, I felt a hand on my arm, and the next thing I knew, Nick spun me around, and his mouth crashed down on mine. I cried out with surprise, but I couldn’t pull away. I was buried in Nick’s arms, his warmth enveloping me, and my body refused to do anything but swoon into his. A little voice in the back of my head demanded that I pound on his chest, pull myself out of his embrace and stick to my indignant fury, but somehow my hands crept up and around his neck.

I felt his hot breath on my face, and my eyes closed, my lips parted, absent any thought of my own. This time, when he took my mouth, it wasn’t tentative or even particularly gentle. Nor was my response. I opened to him completely, pulling his head down to give him better access, as wave after wave of sensation rippled through my body.

It wasn’t enough. I found myself tugging at his jacket, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, needing the feel of his skin, the warmth of him.

Nick needed no encouragement. He picked me up as if I were light as goose down and laid me on the red velvet sofa. Within minutes we were naked on the old horsehair davenport, revealing the mysteries of one another’s bodies. Although I’d never seen him lift anything heavier than a full tray of dirty dishes, his body was solid and well-muscled, with a slight sprinkling of dark hair on his chest.

His tongue teased my lips, my tongue, then reached deep into my mouth. When he drew back, my eyes opened, and as I looked up, it felt like he were reaching into my soul. I wanted to look into his sapphire eyes forever, but my body would wait no longer. I needed more, and I grabbed his gorgeous body and pulled him to me, wrapping my legs around his hips.

The feel of him entering me was like nothing I’d ever experienced. If every lock has a key, Nick was my key. And then I couldn’t think at all. Me, Emily Miller, sensible girl, was overtaken by pure sensation. It pulled me under, and I barely heard my own gasps and moans of pleasure, my pleas for more. When my body convulsed around him, it was like nothing I’d ever felt. I lost all control, begged him to give me everything as I gave myself fully to him. I felt his seed fill me, hot and satisfying, as I’d never felt before.

Afterwards, we collapsed in a tangle, both of us oblivious to the cold as we gasped in one another’s arms. When I finally came down from the aftershocks of my bliss, I opened my eyes to find Nick watching me with concern. He reached out and touched my wet cheek, scooped up what I realized was a tear, and licked it off his finger.