Martha Shields - The Princess And The Cowboy

Not that it mattered where she was. She was free. There was no way Bonifay could trace her on the road with Buck Buchanan.

No, not Buck. What was the name he’d put on the wedding certificate?

Hardin Winford Buchanan.

He’d given her a hard look when he gave the court clerk his name, as if he expected her to make fun of it. She’d squeezed his arm to reassure him. Who was she—Princess Joséphene Eugénie Béatrix Marguerite Isabeau Francoeur—to make fun of such a name?

Buck fit him better, just like Josie fit her.

She craned her neck to peer around the camper.

Speaking of Buck, where was he? Why weren’t they in the same bed? She’d always had the impression that middleclass American couples slept together.

She glanced at the floor, then a movement higher caught her eye. Two large, bare feet poked out from a sheet on the other side of the trailer.

He must have put her to bed, not wanting to disturb her sleep with husbandly demands.

A smile drifted across her face. He might be just a cowboy, but her husband had the manners of the finest gentlemen she’d ever met.

Not that she would have minded being disturbed. As a matter of fact, they needed to proceed with the consummation as soon as possible.

Heat stung her cheeks, and she sighed. She wished they’d accomplished it last night, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Now, how was she going to bring it up?

Perhaps she wouldn’t have to. Perhaps Buck would take matters in hand.

She giggled at the unintentional pun. His hands had seemed more than capable of taking care of matters last night.

But his caresses and kisses weren’t the only reason she liked him. They’d talked all the way into Reno. He seemed fascinated by everything she’d said, just as she’d been with the details he revealed about his life.

What felt so good, however, was knowing his fascination wasn’t because she was a princess. To him, she was an ordinary woman.

How often had she longed to be just an ordinary woman? To meet a man who would see beyond the brilliance of her crown to the woman beneath?

She frowned as she realized Buck didn’t know she had a crown. She wasn’t being honest with him, but she couldn’t risk it. Not yet. Not until she was certain what kind of man she was dealing with.

When she didn’t surface after a few days, her face would be splashed over every newspaper and television in America. Bonifay would offer a reward—a large one.

Melissa had told her that most rodeo contestants lived from paycheck to paycheck. From what she’d seen so far, she didn’t think Buck was the kind of man to be seduced by money. He’d refused her offer of payment, after all. But she’d only known him a few hours.

She still couldn’t believe she’d married a perfect stranger. Yet there was something about Buck that she’d trusted immediately. Though she couldn’t pinpoint a reason for her trust, somehow she was certain he wouldn’t harm her. When she first looked into his deep blue eyes, it was as if she’d known him all her life.

Was it because his eyes reminded her of the ocean surrounding Montclaire? Was it because his height and build reminded her of her father? Was it the way she felt when he’d kissed her after they’d said “I do”?

Remembering that moment, she closed her eyes to savor the things he made her feel—even hours after the contact. The scent of a hardworking man blending with the scent of a hardworking horse—she couldn’t imagine anything sexier. The caress of his warm breath on her cheek, the way his lips molded to hers.

She moaned softly as she traced her fingers over her lips.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Her eyes flew open to see Buck sitting up on the elevated bed.

Her breath caught.

Bent slightly because his head and long torso wouldn’t fit in the cramped space, he yawned and reached a muscular, naked arm up to scratch his shaggy, dark brown hair. But his arm wasn’t all that was naked. Every part of him that she could see was nude—from the wide, well-defined expanse of his chest to the strong legs ending in long, higharched feet.

Only his hips were covered. A sheet appeared to be all that lay between her gaze and his most private parts.

The warmth she’d been feeling at the memory of his kiss intensified, especially when she realized she wanted to snatch the sheet away so she could see all of him.

Never in her life had she experienced desire so sharp it felt like raw, aching need. Desire to see a naked man.

But not just any naked man. This one.

Her passion was so unfamiliar and acute, it alarmed her. Princesses didn’t have feelings like this.

Josie’s mind caught on her words.

Princesses might not have feelings like this, but ordinary women did—and that’s what she was until she returned to Montclaire. She knew she’d have to go home eventually, but until then she wasn’t going to have any more princess thoughts. She was going to enjoy every single, solitary minute of being an ordinary woman. The memory of these few weeks would have to last the rest of her life.

“You look kinda flushed, sweetheart. You too hot?” he asked.

Josie gave in to the need to giggle, something Joséphene would’ve suppressed. If only he knew how hot—and why. “I’m…fine.”

He gave her a puzzled look, then started to slide down to the narrow sliver of floor below him. As the sheet began to slide off his hips, however, he stopped. “Maybe you’d better use the bathroom first.”

She would much rather have enjoyed the show, but since he didn’t seem inclined to give her one, she realized she was in dire need of facilities. That there were any nearby surprised her. “There’s a bathroom in here?”

He pointed to the wall behind her. “You’ll have to fold up your bunk so you can open the door. I don’t have the water hooked up for a shower yet. It was late when we pulled in. But there should be enough in the tanks to flush a few times.”

Josie placed her feet on the floor and took a moment to stretch. “Where are we? Lake Tahoe?”

He rubbed a hand over his morning beard. “Yep.”

With a nod acknowledging the information, she stood and turned to fold the bed. She stared at it for a moment, then pulled the top sheet back—he hadn’t bothered with a bottom one. Uncovered, the hinges were obvious. After a minute of bending and stretching, she’d reconfigured the bed into a small couch.

Satisfied with her job, she straightened and turned to smile at Buck. The look she caught on his face trapped the air in her lungs. His eyes were like the hot blue centers of twin flames, and they were burning into her bottom.

She suddenly realized the view she’d given him, bent over in the tight jeans. He would have been able to see every curve of her form.

A shiver ran through her—part excitement, part fear.

He wanted her.

A few men had told her they wanted her, but she hadn’t really believed them. Perhaps because none had looked at her like this. They couldn’t separate the woman from the princess. She could see it in their eyes.

Buck’s own eyes rose slowly to hers, losing none of their heat during the languorous journey.

Mesmerized, Josie stared straight into the face of desire. His need inflamed her own, which excited her and frightened her even more.

“Josie, sweetheart?” he asked in a deeper, huskier voice than she remembered him having.

“Yes?” The word was hesitant, breathless.

“Either go into the bathroom, or climb up here and let’s get on with what we’re both wanting to do.”

Josie didn’t follow either suggestion. The fire burning through her veins had welded her feet to the floor.

She wanted to climb up next to him more than she wanted to see Montclaire again—ever. She wanted to run her hands over the relief map of his chest, to dig her fingers into the thick mane of dark brown hair, to press her mouth to his well-defined lips.