The Prince's Texas Bride. Victoria Chancellor
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He didn’t want to think that Kerry would have the equivalent experience. Boyfriends. Easy sex of any sort.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like the beach?”
He turned his attention back to the present and Kerry. Forcing a smile, he took her hand. “I adore the beach.”
“You’re slipping into your British accent again.”
“I know, but let me be myself for a while. I’ve been very good at playing Hank McCauley, if I do say so myself.” He pulled her aside as three people on in-line skates whizzed past. Kerry’s leg brushed his as their hips bumped briefly before she stepped away.
“Yes, you have.” She swung their linked hands while strolling along the sidewalk, apparently not as affected as he by their contact. “This seawall was built after a huge hurricane in 1900. The whole island was raised to keep it from ever being submerged again, and this seawall was built of concrete and rock to keep the water from washing away the shoreline.”
“Very impressive—both the history and your knowledge of the area.”
“My aunt and uncle are great history buffs. They have a book on Galveston you might find interesting, just in case you have trouble sleeping.”
“Good to know,” he said as they started down the steps that took them to the beach. He had an idea he would have trouble sleeping with Kerry so near, yet so far away. Ever since seeing the cozy bedroom she’d be occupying, he’d envisioned her stretched out on that small bed, an alluring smile lighting up her cute, freckled face.
The smell of the ocean was stronger here, the sand deep as they stepped off the wooden steps onto the beach. The sound of the waves was even and reassuring as he again took Kerry’s hand. Lamps from the seawall illuminated the area enough that they could see where they were walking. Other couples strolled closer to the water, where the sand was firm and wet. White foam on the waves gleamed silver in the artificial light.
“I suppose it’s not as wonderful as those Mediterranean beaches you’re used to.”
Alexi chuckled. “Actually, European beaches are almost all rocks. We have very little sand, especially something this fine and pale.”
“Really?”
“For truly wonderful beaches, we go to the Caribbean or Central or South America.”
“I’d love to travel someday,” she said wistfully. “I get two weeks of vacation a year, but I have to wait six months to take part of that. After five years, I get three weeks.”
“Sometimes shorter holidays can be very relaxing.”
“Yes. We have Memorial Day, the Fourth of July and then Labor Day coming up. Maybe I can plan a long weekend someplace fun. Corpus Christi or Las Vegas or New Orleans.”
He didn’t correct the impression she’d gotten from his use of “holiday.” In England, the word was used instead of the American “vacation.” But whatever Kerry called time off from work, he wondered if she would venture somewhere alone. Or would she have a boyfriend to accompany her on one of these upcoming weekends?
Perhaps he could fly over and take a holiday with her.
Perhaps their brief relationship didn’t have to end with him going back to Belegovia on Sunday. Unless, of course, he immediately became involved with someone else at the insistence of his father. Unless he became engaged to one of the European elite who had been selected for him.
“I love it here,” Kerry breathed, barely above a whisper. He had to lean close to catch her words over the rhythmic pounding of the surf. “The sound of the waves is so peaceful. Sometimes I just sit on the rocks,” she said, pointing to a man-made rocky pier that jutted into the surf, “and watch for hours.”
“I feel that way when I’m on a boat,” Alexi admitted. “Especially a sailboat. There’s nothing like the rocking motion of the water, the slap of the waves against the hull, to lull your brain into semiconscious bliss.”
“Exactly,” Kerry said softly, turning toward him. “I knew you’d understand.”
She wants you to kiss her. The knowledge was so certain that for a moment, Alexi thought someone had spoken the words into his brain. But he was only reacting to Kerry. Her wide eyes and parted lips beckoned him.
Semiconscious bliss. That’s what he felt when he pulled her close, their bodies touching everywhere. His brain shut down, giving over to sensations. Her rapid breathing. Her small, shapely breasts brushing his rib cage. Her thighs nestling against his.
He looked into her luminous eyes until he lowered his head. She tasted like the orange sherbet he’d eaten for dessert—sweet and tangy, just like Kerry. Then he lost himself when she parted her lips and her tongue touched his. His hands tightened against her back, pulling her closer. She met his passion with equal enthusiasm, kissing him thoroughly until neither could breathe.
They broke together and sucked in air, still clinging tightly. Her breath tickled hot against his chest as his hands moved restlessly over her back. He longed to reach lower, cup her bottom in his hands and pull her higher, until she wrapped her legs around his waist, but he didn’t dare. Not in public. Not yet.
But the urge was there, stronger than ever. They had two days, possibly three, before they each began new lives. Could that be enough for either of them?
AS KERRY FIDGETED restlessly in the guest bedroom, she couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Wow. Alexi might look like Hank, but the two men were worlds apart. She’d never reacted to her former boyfriend like she did to this prince. The chemistry was just so…intense. Different. She didn’t know why, but Alexi brought out a side of her she’d only slightly explored. Sure, she and Hank had kissed a couple of times, but there hadn’t been any sparks.
Now she felt like a Fourth of July firecracker waiting for the match to strike.
Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling. When she was a child, she used to imagine she could see the shapes of animals in the plaster of this bedroom. Directly above the bed was a lion’s head. Near the window was a flying bird. And beside the closet door was a lamb. She’d indulged her fantasies by making up stories of why they were here, what they were doing. Especially at night. The animals romped around a lot at night.
Now she had more grown-up fantasies. Of romping on the beach with Alexi. Of falling to the cool sand with him. Of making love to him as the waves surged around them. Her girlhood fantasies were as tame as that lamb, but she was really a lion as an adult. Especially when she imagined raking her fingernails down his back as she pulled him closer, closer…
Sighing, she flopped onto her stomach and hugged a pillow. She’d thought earlier that Alexi might be her reward for years of hard work. For studying during her work breaks, for staying home when her friends were going away for the weekend, for helping her mother and sisters instead of partying.
She’d been a good girl—with just a couple of unremarkable lapses—and now she wanted it all. Her freedom, her career and her prince.
Except he wasn’t her prince. He was going to marry someone from European royalty or at least blue blood. Someone his father would approve as the future queen of their beloved country.
But while he was in Texas, he was hers. She didn’t have to use her imagination very much to indulge that fantasy.
ON THURSDAY they ate a hearty breakfast of pancakes and sausage with Aunt Marcy and Uncle Bob, then headed out for a tour of the island around ten o’clock. Kerry thought Alexi might enjoy the Victorian sights, since he’d grown up in such historical settings. England was steeped in tradition, and Belegovia probably had one of those old, drafty castles. A few of the houses in the historical district were made of stone and looked like castles.
“Where should we go first?” Kerry asked, driving her new car. Actually, the Saturn was three years old, but it still smelled new. Aunt Marcy’s mother had never so much as nibbled a French fry inside this sedan.