Surgeon Prince, Cinderella Bride. Ann McIntosh
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be on our way in two weeks.”
Eyes wide, she’d gasped. “Wait. You’re kidding, right?” Waving her hands, she continued, “I don’t know anything about being royalty; what to do or say. It’ll be a disaster, and an embarrassment. I can’t do it.”
“I’ll arrange for you to learn whatever you need to know, as well as make sure you’re completely kitted out for the part. If we get everything squared away here over the next week or so we’ll go to Toronto, get married there, and then head to Paris or Milan to get you a new wardrobe.”
The mingled horror and shock on her face was obvious, yet she didn’t object again. Instead she muttered, “And what the heck do I tell my family?”
“The truth?” he ventured, only to be met with a scathing glance.
“Oh, heck, no. All this princess business would blow their minds.”
“They’ll find out sooner or later that you’re marrying a prince, albeit one from a tiny kingdom.”
She nibbled at the corner of her lip, and then replied, “And we’re going to have to come up with a realistic backstory about how we met, and why we’re marrying in such a rush.”
He shrugged, and gave her a smile. “I came to Canada on business. We met and I fell head over heels for you. I refused to go home without you, and you finally gave in.”
Her scathing glance and answer made him smile.
“You’re going to have to come up with a better story than that. No one would believe you’d fall for me like that.”
“We’ll see,” was all he said, rising to get another coffee, which he found to be surprisingly good. “Want another drink?”
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