couldn’t help herself. She glanced over at him, her brow furrowed. “That sounded almost regretful.”
“One’s choices in life are not always his own, Doctor.”
“That is such bunk,” she shot back.
He chuckled. “You think so?”
“Yes, I do.” Glinda put her head on Fran’s knee and closed her eyes. “We have one chance at this life. Giving others control over it—control over something as precious as our choices—is a waste.”
“Of time?”
“Of life.” Once she started on a subject like this, she couldn’t be stopped. “My father always said, ‘Life’s a gift.’” Fran’s heart squeezed painfully at the thought of her father. He’d been gone almost sixteen years, died and left her alone with a non-family who barely remembered her name. But even so, her love for him remained resolute.
The man beside her watched her intently, his expression shuttered. “What about the king’s children, Doctor? To them, duty and honor must come first. They don’t have the luxury of choice.”
“Of course they do. They just chose the duty and honor over their wants and needs.” Just as she had chosen sweet and steady Dennis over the smooth talkers who only wanted one thing, then moved on to their next conquest after they got it. No fairy tales or fairy-tale princes for her. Just lots of wolves in Armani clothing. Thank God, she’d only fallen for their silver-tongued appeal once.
She returned her attention to Glinda, feeling her belly, and the little puppies that grew there. “It’s funny, most people romanticize the royals—the life-style—the parties and balls, the perfect kisses and the handsome prince and all that.”
“But not you?”
“No.” She stayed in safe territory with her response. “When I was young, I didn’t sit in front of a Disney cartoon enraptured like other little girls did.”
“What did you do, instead?”
Fran couldn’t help but smile. “Made splints for the injured animals that found their way into our yard.”
“And I’ll bet you cured every one.” Gentle humor laced his tone.
“Most. But some things were beyond my control.” Like her stepbrothers’ cruel games and tricks, hiding her precious animals until she cried and begged for their return.
Fran forced the past back where it belonged and adopted a relaxed smile. “Let’s just say that I’ve never been one to see things through a rosy glow.”
“How do you see things, Francesca?”
“It’s just Fran,” she told him again. “And I see life through a pair of infrared sunglasses. I want to see the details, the truth. I don’t want to be blinded by fantasy.”
“You know, fantasies can be very fulfilling.”
Heat coiled low in her belly at his words. Without thinking, she looked up into his dark-blue eyes, eyes that held passion and intelligence. “In the short term, perhaps.”
A grin touched his lips. “And you don’t look for short-term pleasures?”
Her gaze flickered to the window, then down at Glinda, anywhere but on him. “Are we still talking about my views on life?”
“How old are you, Francesca?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“You know, you’re very wise for such a young woman.”
She shrugged, slightly embarrassed by his compliment. “I just know my own mind, that’s all.”
“Very progressive.”
“Is it?”
His smile went wide. “Yes, I think so.”
“Pardon me, Your Highness.”
Fran’s gaze shot to the doorway, where an older man dressed in work clothes stood, a green tam atop his graying hair, his eyes large and curious.
“Good morning, Charlie,” came the baritone beside her, his tone now laden with formality.
Fran’s heart dropped like a stone.
Charlie bowed low. “Good morning, Your Highness. His Royal Highness has returned from town and wishes to speak with you.”
“Thank you, Charlie. You may go.”
Fran didn’t wait for the real Charlie to leave. She whirled around, faced the man who she’d assumed was the stable hand, the man she’d sat here staring at, drooling over, chatting with and advising on the important things in life.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your Highness?”
“I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce myself.” He inclined his head, but those devilish blue eyes remained locked on hers. “Prince Maxim Stephan Henry Thorne.”
Two
Maxim watched the American beauty’s eyes turn a deep brown, and once again he cursed the bargain he’d made with his father almost a year ago. Why the hell would he ever get married to some humorless blue blood of the court when there were women such as this around to tempt him?
Never in his life had he met a woman as full of acuity and opinions as this one. Normally he didn’t find those characteristics appealing, but with her…
He let his gaze move over her. She sat there, clearly annoyed by what he’d just told her—or not told her—a band of sunlight illuminating her amazing features. Shimmering blond waves caressed those stubborn shoulders, while a heart-shaped face sported high cheekbones and satin skin. She was slim, but ripe in all the right places. And when she’d walked past him into the office a few minutes ago, an arrow of blood-pumping desire had struck him dead center—not to mention a few inches lower.
But there was one feature she possessed that made him want to howl at the moon: her mouth, that pink upside-down fantasy with its lush upper lip.
“Your Highness?”
Her irritated query jolted him from his reverie. “Yes, Doctor?”
“You tricked me.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“I don’t like being tricked,” she said sternly. “I had enough of it growing up.” A quick blush crept to her cheeks, but she continued. “I’m not about to take any more of it now. From a prince or a stable boy.”
Maxim stared at her, thoroughly amused. He’d never been spoken to in such a way. Women didn’t scold him. They flirted and complimented and went to bed with him. “I apologize.”
She hesitated for a moment, and he wondered if she was going to toss his apology back in his face. But she didn’t. Instead, a look
