The Blacksheep Prince's Bride. Martha Shields
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frowned at him. “Because you’re a prince and I’m a servant. That kind of…fraternization is frowned upon.”
“Perhaps a hundred years ago, but not today.”
“We don’t do things here the way you do in the United States. Here, we treat our royalty like royalty.” She squared her shoulders. “Besides, I want to concentrate on my book. I think I’ve guessed who the murderer is and he’s about to be revealed. So goodnight, Mr. Stanbury. Have a pleasant evening.”
She spun on her heel and walked down the hall to the next room, which was now hers. He watched her every stiff step of the way.
Just as she opened the door, he said, “It’s Jake, Rowena. Remember that.”
At his words, she hesitated just long enough for him to know she had to make herself go into her room.
When her door closed with a loud click, he headed down the stairs.
“Daddy! Guess what?”
Rowena glanced over her shoulder as she reached for the coffeepot…and caught her breath.
Tousled and unshaven, Jake stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at her blankly. “Oh. Rowena. I forgot…I heard noise down here and thought Sammy was trying to make breakfast himself. Mrs. Hanson only cooks lunch and dinner.”
He was dressed only in pajama bottoms. Since they weren’t rumpled, Rowena knew that he’d thrown them on to rush downstairs…which meant he slept in the nude.
She swallowed with difficulty. That was a little too much information for her comfort zone.
Her gaze wandered over the light mat of dark hair covering his broad, well-defined chest. “I…” She had to swallow to open her suddenly constricted throat. “I know.”
The only place she’d ever seen such a beautiful body on a man was in the pages of fashion magazines. Edenbourg’s rocky beaches were not exactly a mecca for sunbathers.
“Guess what, Daddy?” Sammy held up his plate. “Ena made me waffles. Booberry.”
“She did?” Jake frowned at his son, who had syrup all over his hands and mouth, then glanced up. “I usually fix breakfast.”
“I know.” Rowena couldn’t manage a more coherent answer. She could barely manage to breathe.
Though his eyes were slightly red and his hair hadn’t been combed, Jake was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. Or was it because of his dishabille that he was sexy?
“Nothing this fancy, though. These look good.” Jake picked a bite of waffle from his son’s plate. “Oh yeah. These are great.”
“I know.”
“I usually just fix toast or something.”
Jake licked the syrup from his fingers, and Rowena couldn’t stop her eyes from following the movements. Her hands clenched, and she wondered what would it feel like to lick the sweetness off those long fingers herself. “I know.”
“Or fry up some toad tongues.”
“I—”
“Ewwww, Daddy!”
Rowena’s attention snapped back into place like a stretched rubber band…with the same sharp sting.
Jake leaned over Sammy, looking at her with one eyebrow lifted.
What was wrong with her? Never in her life had she had a thought like that. Lick syrup off a man’s fingers? What was she thinking?
The worst part was—Jake’s smile said he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.
Damn.
“Or lizards’ gizzards.”
Sammy giggled. “You do not!”
“Or—”
“I get it.” Rowena fought the urge to touch her blazing cheeks. She’d been caught staring. She’d been around the palace long enough to know how rude—not to mention how dangerous—staring at a man was. She could either apologize or change the subject. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Coffee?” He grinned knowingly, but took her bait. “Sure. Does it come with a waffle?”
She relaxed. “If you like. Plain or—”
“Any more booberries?”
Rowena smiled. She could certainly see where Sammy got his sense of fun. “If you like. But I have to warn you, they’re not fresh this time of year. They’re frozen.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. They taste good in the waffles.” She smiled as she poured him a cup of coffee, pleased by his compliment. “How many would you like?”
“Is two too many?”
“For a growing boy like you? I don’t think so.”
“Growing boy?” Sammy asked. “Daddy?”
Jake tousled his son’s hair and began pulling out a chair to sit down. “With many breakfasts like this, I’ll be doing plenty of growing…sideways.”
Rowena cleared her throat. “Two waffles will take me just long enough for you to shower and put on some clothes.” She placed the coffee in his hands. “You can take this with you.”
“Black?” He glanced up from the mug. “I like my coffee sweet.” He grinned. “Just like I like my—”
She cut him off. “Sugar is on the table. There’s cream in the icebox.”
“—waffles.”
Her eyes narrowed. What was he doing? Flirting with her? And what had last night been about? Read with him in the library? Sharing the space like a married couple?
“I’m sticky,” Sammy announced, drawing both their attention. “I’m gonna wash.”
Rowena pushed away from the counter. “I’ll come with—”
“No, Ena.” He paused at the door, placing his sticky hand on the jamb. “I’m a big boy. I do it.”
She watched her charge desert her.
“His third birthday is still three months away,” Jake said. “So he’s just beginning to make it out of the terrible twos. He’s as stubborn as…” He grinned. “…his dad.”
Uneasy alone with Jake, Rowena picked up a washcloth and walked over to wipe the syrup off the doorjamb.
Jake turned toward the icebox. “I’m sorry if I shocked you. I just couldn’t resist teasing. You seemed so surprised to discover that I have a chest.”
So he was teasing, not flirting. Thank God.
“I was…a little,” she admitted, but wouldn’t admit to herself even a trace of disappointment. “Men don’t wander around the palace half-naked, as a rule. Especially not the royals.”
Jake pulled open the door of the icebox—it had probably been bought when they still called them that—and reached inside for the cream. “How long have you worked there?”
“Since I was nineteen. Seven years.”
He poured a heavy dose of cream into his coffee. “Have you worked for Isabel the whole time?”
Rowena nodded. “I dreamed of working in the palace since I was little. Isabel needed a lady-in-waiting when she turned twenty-one, and my father knew someone on the palace staff who got me an interview. We clicked immediately, and I’ve been with her ever since.”
He heaped three teaspoons of sugar in his coffee and stirred thoughtfully. Without glancing up, he asked, “Any…fringe benefits?”
“Like what? Insurance? Paid vacations?”
His