Seducing the Princess

by Diane Alberts

  “Oh yeah?” His hands roamed lower, over her hips. “Well, I’m not.”

  She stiffened. “Unhand me now.”

  “Unhand you?” The man holding her said, the words slurring together into one long one. He snorted and didn’t let go. “You crashed into me, lady.”

  “It was an accident I assure you,” she said quickly. “Please release me.”

  As she waited for him to obey, she calculated his weakest attack point. Maybe an elbow to the windpipe would be her best move. She’d need to catch him off guard and take him down, so she could run as fast as she could back to the crowds.

  “Or you wanted a guy to catch you before you fell.” The man lowered his face way too close to hers. “Girls like that chivalrous shit.”

  “Not this one.” Isabelle scrambled for something to say. Something to get this guy to let go of her, without giving away the fact that she was a princess. “My…my boyfriend is here. My big, muscular boyfriend.” She shoved his chest, but he didn’t budge. Okay. She might need more than a well-placed elbow to throw this guy off his game. “He’ll knock you out if you don’t let go of me. He’ll…he’ll take you down. So you better—”

  The man snorted again, and his breath washed over her. He smelled like a bottle of cheap tequila. No, scratch that. Two bottles of cheap tequila. “I’d like to see him try.”

  Isabelle sucked in a deep breath, acutely aware of how much bigger the man was than her. Why wasn’t he releasing her? She tried to wiggle free, but he didn’t budge. “Just let me go.”

  “Say please, and maybe I will.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I won’t beg. I don’t beg.”

  The man held on to her even tighter, his fingers digging into her arms. She flinched at the pain he caused. “You need to learn some—”

  “The lady asked you to let her go,” a hard male voice said from somewhere behind them. It sounded vaguely familiar. “I suggest you do so, before I’m forced to make you.”

  The first man let go of her instantly. “I wasn’t causing any trouble with your girl, man. She was just—”

  “Leave, now, before I change my mind,” the second man advised, not bothering to correct the other man’s misconception about them being an item. He moved closer after the warning. Isabelle couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. “One. Two. Thr—”

  “Okay, okay.” The rude man backed off. “I’m going.”

  After the man left, Isabelle collapsed against the wall, her heart thudding against her ribcage. “Th-Thank you for that.”

  “Don’t mention it.” The man came closer, his spiced cologne teasing her senses. Man, he smelled good…and familiar. Where had she smelled that cologne before? He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. He squeezed it reassuringly, but it didn’t reassure her. Something about him made her whole body just kind of…tingle. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  No. She wasn’t. “Yes. I am.” Princesses never fall apart in public. She forced herself to stand straight. To act fine. She maintained the fake American accent, because despite this man’s heroic actions, she didn’t know him at all. “Thank you, again.”

  “You’re welcome.” He paused, his fingers hesitating on her skin before he let go of her. “I’ll stay with you until the lights come back on, or until your boyfriend comes out. My name’s Gordon, by the way.”

  Gordon. She’d never heard that name before. It sounded as unique as her intense reaction to this man was. “You don’t have to stay with me,” she said, deliberately avoiding giving the man her name in return. “I’ll be okay on my own.”

  Safer, too.

  Leaning against the wall directly next to her, he pointed out, “He could come back.”

  His chest brushed against her shoulder, making her shiver. There was something about this man that awoke things that she hadn’t felt in years. And he was right. That man could come back. She might not know Gordon, but she knew the man who’d left was a lot worse than him. And why did he sound so darn familiar?

  “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “I know.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. The innocent touch burned her. She bit down on her lip, biting back a groan. At a hand touch. Geez. “But I’d feel better if you weren’t alone. Let me stay with you. I’ll be yours until you’re done with me,” he said, his tone teasing.

  Her heart stammered in her chest at his touch, making her think of things. Bad, dirty things. Things princesses shouldn’t think about with strangers. But he wasn’t a stranger, was he? She knew that voice.

  He was the man from the coffee shop. Why was he here, at the same place as her twice in one day? For the most part, she didn’t believe in coincidences. If he was here, it had to be for a reason—be it good or evil. She needed to play it cool until she figured out which one. “O-Okay. Thank you, Gordon.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He still didn’t drop her hand. “Do I know you? You sound familiar.”

  “Nope, not at all.” She forced a laugh. “I’d remember your name.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” He sounded less than convinced. “Hey, did you see any other women come through here? Short, blonde chick with green eyes? Pretty little thing?”

  Oh my God. Was he looking for her? Figures. The first man to awaken her lady parts was a creepy stalker…or worse. “There’s one in the bathroom, but I don’t know if she’s a ‘pretty little thing’ or not.”

  “Ah.” Gordon dropped her hand and walked past her, then knocked on the door. His arm brushed hers again, and she had the same intense reaction. He tensed, as if maybe he felt it, too, but then he called out, “Excuse me? Is there an Isabelle in there?”

  She stiffened. He knew her name? Bonkers. This really wasn’t looking good. “Isabelle,” she said with as much fake confusion as she could muster up. “Who is that?”

  He didn’t answer her.

  “Uhh…” A woman called out through the door. “No Isabelle in here. It’s just me. But the lights went out in here. I can’t see anything.”

  “The power is out in the whole restaurant, ma’am.” The man reached out and grabbed Isabelle’s hand, his fingers firm on hers, as if he’d just remembered she stood there and wanted to keep an eye on her. “Need help coming out safely? I’ve got another woman out here, too, so it’s not just me.”

  Silence, then, “No, I’ll just wait in here. I’m…I’m not decent. I was changing.”

  “All right.” He sighed, turning away from the door, but didn’t let go of her hand. She glanced down at it, even though she couldn’t see a thing. His hand felt a lot bigger than hers. Strong. Capable. Used to hard work. Nice. Too bad she didn’t know if he was a criminal or not. “I’ve got to find Isabelle. Come with me?”

  She took a deep breath. “Your Isabelle. Is she a foreigner?”

  “Yes.” He stopped walking and grabbed her other hand. Her stomach tightened into a knot. “Did you see her walk by? I need to find her.”

  “Yeah. I-I might have seen her. Who is she to you?”

  He ignored her question. “Where did she go?”

  “Um…” Isabelle hesitated. “Why are you looking for her?”

  “I’m her brother,” he said irritably, not even hesitating over the lie. “She’ll be scared without me. Can you come with me until your boyfriend comes to keep you safe?”

  That was a lie. A big, fat lie. She didn’t have a brother.

  Of course, she didn’t have a boyfriend, either, but that had been her lie. She’d end up marrying for an alliance instead of love, so what was the point in pretending otherwise? As a matter of fact, that’s why she was here. To meet her intended fiancé on neutral ground. He’d been in America for a year now because he’d been working on some highly important, exclusive agreement with a manufacturer here in Maine, and was due to come home soon. Her family wanted her to marry him.

  It wasn’t official yet, but once they met, and if she agreed to do her duty…it would be. She was terrified, and sick to her stomach, just thinking about mar
rying a man she hadn’t even met yet, let alone fallen for. But it was her duty as her parents’ sole heir. She needed to marry. Produce little princesses and princes. Be the good girl her parents raised her to be.

  Even if she didn’t want to be.

  “Oh.” She forced her tone to remain calm. “She went upstairs to the bar, I think.”

  “Thanks,” the man said, leading her toward the stairs. “Let’s go get her.”

  She yanked free, catching him off guard. “You go on. I’ll stay down here, so my boyfriend can find me.”

  “I can’t leave you alone,” he said.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He sighed. “Please, I—”

  She tried to walk past him, but he stepped left at the same time. They collided, and his arms closed around her much like the other man’s had. Only instead of feeling scared in Gordon’s embrace, she felt…turned on, to be honest. It was a sensation she’d grown quite accustomed to not feeling anymore. But now, it was as if she’d been starving for this feeling for years, and only he could make it go away.

  And he might be trying to kidnap her.

  Go figure.

  Her stomach twisted, and she rested her hands on his hard chest. Holy mother of the American royalty. The man was as hard as a rock. His hands slipped down her back and rested dangerously low at the curve of her hips. The innocent touch made her stomach tighten in knots, twisting and turning and roiling. His fingers flexed, almost as if he felt the same thing as her.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was deeper than before. Raspy, too, as if he’d swallowed something sharp. He stepped closer, his chest brushing against hers. Her nipples hardened, seeming to beg for his touch already. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, not wiggling to get free. Not this time. Heck, he felt…good. Real good. Too good. She curled her fingers over the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you, again.”

  His hand slipped a little lower, making a shot of lust bolt through her veins, but he let go of her after a slight hesitation. She fought back a disappointed sigh. Wait. Disappointed? The guy was a stalker. She shouldn’t be upset he didn’t grope her.

  His thumb skimmed over her knuckles in a soft caress. “Stay with me. I’m not going to hurt you. Tell me the truth…do you really have a big boyfriend waiting for you?”

  “You first.” She steadied her nerves. “Tell me who she really is. I can tell she’s not your sister. She’s from another country.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m not her brother.”

  “You’re not. She doesn’t have a brother,” Isabelle said, her heart racing so fast it hurt. “She told me she was an only child.”

  “Shit.” His fingers tightened on her. “Fine. You got me. I’m a guard, and I have to find Isabelle. I can’t tell you who she is, so don’t ask. She’s my charge, not my sister, and the idiotic woman wandered off on me. If I don’t find her, I’m in deep shit. Now will you come with me?”

  She stiffened. Idiotic woman? How dare he?

  He had no right to talk about her like that. None at all.

  And even worse than his impetuousness was the fact that he was her guard. This wasn’t a random man she’d never see again. This was a man she’d be forced to be around for days on end, in close quarters. And she’d been flirting with him. Twice. Gah!

  Carefully, she asked, “Are you with the Shillings Agency?”

  “Yeah.” He froze. “Wait. How did you know that?”

  So he was her guard? Fabulous. Just fabulous. “Because I’m—”

  The lights flickered and came back to life with a big pop. She blinked against the sudden brightness, squinting through the blinding pain as her eyes adjusted. Once she could make out more than the dots swimming before her eyes, she stared straight ahead at her protector.

  Or his chest, so to speak.

  He was a lot taller than she’d expected. He’d seemed tall in the shop, but he’d been sitting the whole time. Now, standing at his full height, he was well over six foot. She tightened her hands on his suit-clad biceps. His really big biceps.

  Gulping in a deep breath, she glanced up. And he was just as hot as she remembered, too. Totally, unbelievably, undeniably hot. His disheveled, spiky brown hair was topped off with deep chestnut eyes, a five o’clock shadow to kill for, and a devilishly charming way with women. He was easily the most gorgeous, attractive man she’d ever seen.

  Ever.

  She hadn’t realized men came in this attractive of a package until she’d seen him earlier, but bonkers, they did. If all the men in Maine looked like this one, then sign her up on the dotted line. She’d be American for him.

  Princesses never turn their backs on their native land, her mother’s voice said.

  “Oh. Okay,” Isabelle said, patting his biceps one last time before letting go of him reluctantly. “About that idiotic Isabelle girl…”

  “No need to continue that sentence.” He cocked a brow and didn’t let go of her, despite her own release of him. His continued hold on her was bold, forward, and hot all at once. That would never happen back in her home country. His gaze dipped down her body, taking way too long to come back up to her face, and her stomach tightened into a knot again. “You’re her.”

  He said it like a curse, or a distasteful object.

  She flinched. “You knew. In the shop?”

  His jaw twitched, but he stared at her without replying. She cleared her throat, way too aware of the fact that she was completely alone in a room with a guy who looked as if he belonged on the cover of the Men’s Health magazine she’d snuck in on the way here. Did he have a six-pack under that suit?

  She’d wager her country’s wealth that he did.

  “Well, did you know?” she asked.

  “I knew then. Not now. You tricked me.” His eyes darkened, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’m not used to that.”

  “I am.” Her cheeks heated. “I mean…you may release me now.”

  His brow went higher. “Oh, may I now?”

  “Yes. You may.” She stared him down, trying her best to look completely calm when she was anything but. “Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He laughed under his breath and let go of her without a sign of hesitation. Not like before he’d known who she was. “Nice fake accent, Princess. I’m impressed. It’s even better than that humble act you pulled off with me in the coffee shop. You seemed so…so…normal.”

  “Thank you.” Isabelle smoothed her dress, dropping the act and letting her real voice through. “I’ve practiced for years.”

  He stepped back, his brown eyes pinning her to the spot with their intensity. “You ready?”

  She blinked at him. “For?”

  “Dinner,” he said, watching her with a wrinkled brow. “You were due at the table by six-thirty. You’re late…again.”

  “I know that, thank you very much,” she said, her voice tinged with annoyance at being reminded she was late. She knew that already. “Know what I don’t know? Your full name.”

  He bowed at the waist. “Gordon Waybrook, at your service, Princess Isabelle. I’m one of two men who will be in charge of keeping you safe during your visit to America.”

  Isabelle shook her head, unable to believe this hunk of a guy had been assigned to her. Her guards were usually old, overweight, and balding. Not…delicious. “You’re actually my guard?”

  “Yep.” He cocked his head. “Is that a problem?”

  Yes. It was. “No. Of course not.”

  Except for the fact that he was too hot to see her stumble around without her makeup on, he was too hot to follow her around all day, and he was way too hot to resist. She stared at him, unable to believe her father had assigned this man, of all men, to her. He was an American version of pure temptation.

  Princesses don’t drool over men.

  He gave her a level look. “Good. Now, if you’re ready?”

  “I need to…” She broke off, not knowing how to tell this hun
k she had to pee like one of her father’s prized racehorses. God, this was going to be a tortuous visit to the states. “I have to…”

  He shifted on his feet and gave her an annoyed glance. “Yes, Princess? We don’t have all day.”

  “I have to go to the ladies’ room,” she said primly, refusing to show how much his disrespectful tone unnerved her. Back home, no one ever showed her any impatience or anger. Ever. “To powder my nose before dinner.”

  He snorted and motioned her forward. “Yeah, sure you do. Let’s go, then.”

  She blinked at him, unable to believe how ordinary he treated her. As if she were a commoner or a friend of his. When she didn’t move fast enough, he placed his hand at the small of her back and gave her a gentle push forward. She stumbled along, letting him guide her down the hallway once more.

  “You do realize I’m actually a princess, right?” she asked over her shoulder. “In my country, the people treat me with respect and kindness. They don’t push me.”

  “Then walk faster. Because in my country?” He opened the bathroom door for her, glancing inside to make sure it was empty. His gaze dipped low again. When he looked up at her, his eyes were darker than before. She hadn’t even realized that was possible. “We give respect when it’s earned. Not because it’s a right. Now go pee quickly…Princess.”

  With that, he pushed her inside gently—again—and closed the door in her face.

  Unbelievable.

  Chapter Three

  A couple of hours later, Gordon dragged his hand through his hair and followed Princess Isabelle out of the restaurant. He’d watched her all night, since it was his job to do so, and she confused him. The woman he’d met in the coffee shop and the dark hallway had seemed so down to earth. She’d held his hand, and he’d sworn he felt an attraction between the two of them building up.

  She’d been refreshingly normal.

  Then the lights had come on in the restaurant, and she’d turned into this haughty princess version of the woman. She’d become someone whom he’d never look at twice, under any other circumstances. But instead of shrugging it off and moving on, he couldn’t let it go. There had been an undeniable attraction between them before she’d changed.