His Runaway Campfire Princess

by Gwen Hayes

  Her body was in a state of high arousal since the tent. And yesterday’s kiss hadn’t brought it down any. She ached everywhere. Her muscles were tight. And she was grumpy. So very grumpy.

  Harmon, however, seemed to be in a fine mood. Every time they stepped foot out of their cabin, he had his arm around or held her hand. He was attentive, well-mannered, and annoyingly nice. He made her a s’more last night and it was delicious.

  It was all for show, of course. Because he didn’t get within a ten-foot radius of her when they were inside their cabin. Though he was still attentive, well-mannered, and annoyingly nice.

  Damn him.

  Harmon had wanted to sleep on the floor last night, but she convinced him they were adults. They could sleep in the same bed and not attack each other. Of course, she’d been lying. The idea was he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her and they’d have had lots and lots of sex and she’d be in much better mood this morning.

  She misjudged her lure, apparently.

  Now it was lunchtime and he’d asked her, made her promise, to stay inside the cabin. For her safety. It was probably a test. She paced the cabin some more.

  A surprise. She made a snarly noise very much sounding like her father. She didn’t want a surprise any more. The idea was losing its appeal. She didn’t want him to be nice to her. She wanted him to take off his clothes and have sex with her. Several times. She wanted to feel his heavy body on hers. She wanted to smear him in s’mores and feast on him until he forgot his name. She wanted…

  God, what was even wrong with her?

  She was obsessed is what.

  It wasn’t fair that he kissed so well and was such a jerk and also made her want to soothe and care for him. He wasn’t supposed to have those kinds of needs. He was The Carlysle, as he’d repeated over the years like it was immunity from feelings. But she’d seen the man beneath the duke, and now he’d gone and made her crave him.

  She only had a few days of freedom left. She needed to make the most of them, not pace around the stupid cabin waiting for her bodyguard to “let” her out. In a matter of weeks, she would be relegated to romance with one man for the rest of her life. A man she might not even know yet. A man who might not want to romance with her any more than she wanted to romance with him.

  A man she didn’t get to pick. That was the rub.

  It was possible the king would choose a wonderful man for her, though unlikely as he was probably going to pass the choosing to Aunt Elaine. But even if he was wonderful, she didn’t know if she was a big enough person to not resent him. He could be a funny, charming, ginger prince who loved children and dogs and studied the Kama Sutra in his spare time, and she would still never forgive him for marrying her.

  She wanted to do the right thing by her country—even when it butted up against her values as a modern woman. Sivartania would always have to come first. She’d have to honor the values and traditions that were so much a part of who she was.

  But she dreamed of a day when she could sit down with her father and he would listen to her. Hear her thoughts and ideas and dreams and goals. Believe in her instead of ignoring her. As king, he had his own agenda. But as her father, she wished he could trust her to make her own choices.

  That problem was for a different day, though. She’d have plenty of time to come to terms with it—the rest of her life as a matter of fact. This week wasn’t for worrying about her happily ever after. This week was hers. And she wanted to wring every last drop out of it.

  But who was she fooling? She didn’t really choose this either. Harmon was making a concession for her. And compromising by pretending to be interested for appearances. Pretending that she had autonomy.

  But she wasn’t getting a grand romance out of the deal. She was getting a mirage of what life might be like. She ought to tell him to just take her home. They could lock her in a tower until it was safe again. Then he and her father could hand their problem off to the next man.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

  Merriam didn’t have a perfect life. But who did? She needed to make the best of it. And so what if the rest of the week was a mirage? She’d never been to camp. It was fun to watch Harmon try to pretend to be a normal man instead of a robot. It was amusing to fluster him with feelings he didn’t want to have.

  Maybe this wasn’t what she wanted, but this was what she had. Might as well make the rest of the week something to remember.

  When the door opened, she wasn’t sure who was more surprised that she was still inside the cabin waiting for him. It wasn’t like her to do as he asked.

  It wasn’t like him to smile at her like that.

  Maybe she should do what he asked more often.

  They stared at each other for a beat too long. And then he held out his hand and led her out of the cabin towards the lake.

  “Thank you for staying put. I imagine that was hard for you.”

  She shot him a look, but he was still smiling. Teasing her. The world must be upside down because Mr. Roboto was teasing her.

  It was just like the sun to shine so nicely when she was in such a foul mood. Spring hadn’t quite given way to summer yet, and parts of the trail were still damp where the large trees trunks shaded the ground. It was warm, but not hot. Not yet. “Where are we going, Harmon?”

  “We are going on a picnic.”

  She stopped walking. “Did you say picnic?”

  “I trust you’ve heard of them.”

  “Well, yes, I do know what a picnic is, but why are we going on one?”

  “So we can be alone.”

  His words, and the low rumble of his voice, rubbed against the ache inside, causing a stir in her middle that shouldn’t have been butterflies, but it was. Then she realized that when they were alone, there was no reason for the couple pretense. That he was taking her away from camp so he didn’t have to be her boyfriend for a few hours.

  He didn’t notice that she was pouting when he was loading her into a canoe, a canoe that already contained a basket, a thermos, and a plaid blanket. It would have been romantic if it wasn’t a day designed to avoid romance. Also, she noticed there were life vests and …was that a flare next to the first aid kit? Of course he would be prepared. That what Harmon was about.

  She sighed, offered to help paddle, was refused. She swore under her breath.

  “Your highness, may I suggest that you drink some of the coffee? Before you take my head off?”

  She scowled at him. Then realized what she was doing. “I’m sorry, Harmon. I don’t even know why I’m so grumpy.”

  “Coffee, Princess. Just drink the coffee.”

  It was unnerving how well he knew her. She ought not to drink the damn coffee, just on principle. But she was supposed to be a woman, not a petulant teenager. And he was right. She’d come around if she had more caffeine.

  She hated it when he was right.

  The lake was beautiful and the steady splash of the oars soothing. After a cup or three, she leaned back enough to feel the sun kiss her neck, the warmth gentle.

  She’d always loved the sun, though Aunt Elaine chastised her about it often. Stop it. Don’t let Aunt Elaine ruin this. This was her last window of freedom. She stretched, let herself grow languid and relaxed. She wanted to pocket this memory forever.

  Okay so the coffee really was working.

  “Harmon?” she asked, not bothering to open her eyes just yet.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for the magical elixir made from beans.”

  He chuckled and she was inordinately pleased she could make him. “Feeling more yourself, I take it.”

  “I love the sun and the water.” She stretched, feeling like a cat. Maybe she’d take a little nap.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Merriam blinked, suddenly wide awake. Had she been daydreaming? She straightened and found Harmon’s attention was focused on her. Guileless, his walls down for such a sweet moment.

  “Thank you,” she wh
ispered.

  There were things in his gaze that she would hold on to forever. Whatever happened next week, in this moment she and Harmon connected. It was real.

  And then the walls shuttered him away again.

  It was okay. She understood. He wasn’t a man prone to staying open for long.

  “I can help paddle, you know.” She made a Rosie the Riveter pose. “I’m pretty strong.”

  “That you are, Princess. But you also hurt your hand yesterday. Besides, I’m trying to prove my masculinity over here. Give a duke a break.”

  He was making jokes? Almost flirting. This was so weird.

  “What’s in the basket? I’m starved.”

  “You’re always hungry.”

  She shrugged. “So, what’s in it?”

  “Patience.” He steered them to a little island called Elephant Rock, beaching them in the sand. Then he proceeded to spread the blanket and pull food out of the basket.

  She stood there, unable to really take it all in. Why was he doing this? He brought out a bottle of wine. Why would he be wining and dining her when they had no audience? He was…being the perfect boyfriend. Just as she’d asked. Only it hurt at little. Because it was everything she wanted—but it wasn’t real.

  “I thought you said you were hungry?”

  Snap out of it, Merriam. Gorgeous man waiting for you on a blanket of food. Live in the moment.

  “Starved.”

  She accepted a wine glass from him, let him pour, and then asked, “Are you seeing anyone?”

  He raised one eyebrow. Did he practice that? He was good at it. “Why are you asking?”

  “I want to know more about you. I’ve never seen you with another woman, but I only ever see you when you are working. Maybe you’ve had a girlfriend behind the scenes for years.”

  The trademarked scowl was back. “Do you think I would have kissed you if I was involved with another woman?”

  She held a hand up as if to surrender. “Relax, I’m not casting aspersions on your character. It was just a question. I just…I don’t know…want to know what your life is like when you aren’t babysitting the royal brats.”

  He sat back and took a bite of his sandwich. He took an interminably long time to chew, and she was beginning to suspect he was actually counting his chews. That would make sense. He was very methodical about everything. Why not chewing? “I’m not seeing anyone regularly.”

  “Are you seeing someone irregularly?”

  His eye twitched. “Why are you asking me this?”

  She was going to watch for that twitch again. What if it was a tell? Think of all the fun she could have if she knew she was making his eye twitch. “Why aren’t you answering?”

  “I didn’t plan a date with you so we could talk about other women.”

  “Women? So you are seeing other someones irregularly? How does that work? Like booty calls?” The tightening of his jaw warned her to stop this line of questioning. Or it would have if she were an ordinary person. But she wasn’t. She was the contradictory kind. “That’s it then? You just call these women when you want to have sex.”

  “Merriam.”

  “What? You know everything about whom I’m seeing and when and where they take me. You probably keep a log of each tryst.” She was…no longer just curious. Now, she was…she didn’t know what…but it wasn’t good. “I bet you know exactly the date and time I lost my virginity.”

  He set his glass down, and his movements looked controlled, but there was an edge.

  She liked that edge. Maybe too much.

  “Do you keep it all in a notebook? Or is there a spreadsheet somewhere? PrincessPutsOut.xls.”

  “Enough. I have never tried to pry into your personal life. I know only what I need to know to keep you safe.”

  He probably thought the direct stare was hostile and aggressive enough to scare her. He was wrong.

  “I was nineteen. When I lost it. But you know that.”

  “Merriam, enough.”

  Not nearly.

  She stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankles. “How many lovers have I had, Duke?”

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you deliberately trying to ruin our lunch?”

  Because I’m hurting and I don’t even know why. “I don’t know.”

  He picked up a rock and threw it hard into the water. Not skipping it. Just lobbing it. “Seven,” he growled.

  “What?”

  “You’ve had seven lovers.”

  She no longer wanted her sandwich. Why was she doing this? Provoking him. Deliberately forcing him to say things to hurt her. And it did hurt, but she didn’t understand why.

  She had nothing to be ashamed of. But knowing he had tabs on her…she shouldn’t have brought this up.

  She picked a rock and lobbed it into the water too. It made a satisfying plunk, but didn’t go nearly as far as his had. “I’m just a job to you.” Her life just details he had to keep track of. Where she was, where she was going, how long she would be there, how many lovers she’d taken.

  Then she looked at him, hoping to apologize for ruining his picnic. Only he wasn’t scowling, he was furious.

  “Harmon?”

  “Not a one of them was good enough for you. Do you know that my job meant I had to vet them completely? That I had to dig into their personal and professional lives and keep dossiers on them?”

  She supposed she knew, but deliberately tried never to think of it. “I’m not surprised that you knew my boyfriends better than I did.”

  “Boyfriends. Imbeciles more like.” He shook his head. “Your aunt wasn’t wrong. You chose those men deliberately. To antagonize your father.”

  She pulled her knees into her chest. “I’m sorry I brought this up. I don’t really want to talk about them with you.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Who do you talk to, Merriam?” He gestured, palms up, and it felt mocking.

  “I said I was sorry, Harmon.”

  She looked away, but he reached under her chin and brought it back to him. “I don’t think so, Princess. What’s good for the gander, right? Who do you talk to about your day? Movies? Sport scores? Annoying dukes?”

  God. “I have lots of friends, as I’m sure you know. You probably have dossiers on all of them, too.” She grasped his wrist and pulled it away from her face. “But annoying dukes don’t come up much.” She shrugged. “They aren’t that interesting.”

  “Is that right?” He was too close. She needed him not to be so close, to not look at her as though he knew her deepest thoughts. She may want his body, but she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be transparent for him. Not for anyone, but especially not him.

  His other hand lightly traced up her leg, stopping at her knee, holding it. “What would make me more interesting to you, I wonder?”

  He was staring at her mouth. It took everything, everything inside her to not lick her lips. “I think I’ve proven that I like bad boys.”

  “Oh, I can be bad, princess.” His voice was a rough growl. Almost harsh. “But we both know I’m no boy.” Skimming up her leg, he brought his hands to her face, cupping her jaw. And while they were gentle, his gaze was not. His eyes were lit by a wild fire that was sure to consume them both.

  The sparks his gaze started in her center radiated out until every part of her felt singed and achy. She couldn’t catch her breath, but he was breathing hard enough for the both of them.

  Her mouth was so dry that her tongue felt like cotton. She whimpered a little. Not something she was proud of. She was about to tell him to kiss her already before she went up in flames, but then he pulled away.

  “I apologize.”

  Seriously?

  “You what?”

  He got up. “Please finish you lunch, Your Highness. I’ll be over by the boat.”

  Humiliation and hurt burned a ring around her heart.

  This had to stop. The hot cold hot cold. She couldn
’t do this. The price was too costly.

  She packed up the remains of their uneaten picnic, no longer interested in lunch. Or men who couldn’t close a deal. Fine. There were about fifty men back at camp who were looking to scratch some itches. She saw no reason to continue wasting time with this one.

  She stomped over to the boat and started pushing it into the water. She’d just go back to camp without him. He could mope here by himself all day if he wanted. He turned around, surprised, and had to wade in to join her in the boat as she was already paddling, despite the twinge in her hand.

  If he wanted an oar, he’d have to wrestle it away from her. And then he tried.

  So she let go.

  And smiled as he lost his balance and fell into the lake.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Harmon knew how to swim.

  Well.

  He had, after all, graduated from SQT, would have a trident if he were an American, and would be a Navy SEAL.

  The water hadn’t surprised him. He was always prepared to be in the water if he was anywhere near the water. The fact she egged him on hadn’t even surprised him. He was always prepared to be frustrated by the princess if he were anywhere near the princess.

  No, the thing that astonished him was his reaction.

  He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even mildly perturbed. He was…laughing.

  He shot to the surface before he ingested lake water. And she was leaning over the canoe edge looking a little worried and a little too proud of herself.

  “The water is very refreshing, Your Highness. You should join me.”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  He circled the canoe. Like a shark. “Oh, no I insist.”

  She watched his warily. “I’m fine right here, my lord.”

  “But Princess, I want you to experience all that summer camp has to offer. Games, campfires, picnics…swimming.”

  She pulled her haughty princess chin out of her bag of tricks. “I think not, Duke. I’m perfectly comfortable with the accommodations you’ve arranged on this boat.” He bumped the stern, enjoying the look of surprise on her face as she grabbed the sides to center herself. He went under, coming up unexpectedly in different places around her. Until she was nervous, good and nervous.