Cara Colter - His Convenient Royal Bride

The day’s menu was posted, and two men were studying it. It was true, the bigger of them was memorable—large, muscled, redheaded, with a thick beard that matched his hair. The man was definitely a throwback to some kind of Gaelic warrior.

But regardless of his obvious power, he was not the one who had made the entire world fade into nothingness for Maddie.

It was the man who was with him. A full head shorter than his companion—which still would have made him just a hair under six feet tall—the other man radiated power and presence, a kind of rare self-confidence that said this man owned the earth and he knew it.

Tall and well built, he was stunningly gorgeous. His thick, neatly trimmed hair was as rich and chocolaty as devil’s food cake. He had high cheekbones, a straight nose, a chin with a faint—and delicious—hint of a cleft in it. He glanced away from the menu, through the window and straight at Maddie.

Her thought was to duck, as if when he saw her, he would know there was something weak melting within her, like an ice-cream cone that had toppled onto hot pavement. But she found herself unable to move, in the grip of a dark enchantment. All her sensations intensified as his gaze met hers. His eyes were deep blue, ocean water shot through with sapphires. A hint of pure fire sparked in their endless depths.

She was shocked by the reappearance of a demon within her. But there it was: pure, undiluted, primal attraction to a gorgeous man. Good grief! How many times did a woman have to learn life’s most unpleasant lessons?

There was no one riding in to the rescue.

Though maybe this was the sad truth: in times of stress, there was no drug more potent than an extraordinarily attractive man, the fantasy that someone would come along and provide respite from the onerous challenges of daily life.

And since there was no arguing the stressfulness of these times—Past Due notices stacking up like a deck of cards in the café office—Maddie indulged the feeling of unexpected magic whispering into her life.

Her eyes dropped to the full, sinfully sensual curl of a firm bottom lip, and she felt the most delightful shiver of, well, longing. To be transported to the place that a kiss from lips like those could take you.

That was not real. A place of weakness , she reminded herself, annoyed by her lapse. Fairy tales did not exist. She had found that out the hard way. Maddie gave herself a determined mental shake. It was the strain of her life that was making this small diversion seem so all encompassing.

If this was a test, she was as ready for it now as she would ever be.

“Go let them in,” she said to Sophie.

Sophie gave her a startled look—they never opened early—and then dashed for the door, divesting herself of that hated apron on the way, and pulling the ribbon from her hair. Sophie’s romantic schoolgirl notions could be forgiven—she was just a schoolgirl—but Maddie was twenty-four.

She had lost both her parents. She had lived and worked in New York City. She had suffered a heartbreaking betrayal from a man she had thought she would marry. She had come home to find the café and her town struggling. Really, all these events—the awareness that life could turn bad on a hair—should be more than enough to make her jaundiced forever.

Despite being jaundiced forever, Maddie found her hand going to her hair, light brown and short, with the faintest regret. She had cut it in the interest of being practical, particularly now that her dreams were all business based, but still it shocked her every time she looked in the mirror. The shorter cut had encouraged waves to tighten into corkscrews. Coupled with her small frame, instead of achieving the practical professional look she had aimed for, Maddie felt she looked as if she was auditioning for the part of a waif in a musical.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Sophie sang as she opened the door.

Maddie felt a hint of envy at Sophie’s easy vivaciousness, her delight in the potential for excitement. She could warn her, of course, that the path was fraught with danger and betrayal, but Sophie wouldn’t listen. Who believed, in the flush of youthful enthusiasm, such things could happen to them?

Hadn’t she known, in her heart, her parents would not have approved of the supersuave Derek? Hadn’t people tried to tell Maddie that her fiancé might not be worthy of her? Including the friend who had—

“Welcome to the Black Kettle, the coffee shop that won the People’s Choice award for Mountain Bend.”

This was news to Maddie, but Sophie had decided she would take marketing when she saved up enough money for college. She obviously was testing her skills and looked pleased with the result.

Because the men, if they had been debating whether to stop in, suddenly had no choice.

“Thank you,” the darker, younger one said, moving by Sophie first.

His voice was deep and velvet edged, as confident as everything else about him. In those two words, Maddie detected a delightful accent. Maddie felt the air change in the room as soon as he entered, something electrical and charged coming through the door with him.

Electricity is dangerous , she told herself primly. Not to mention expensive.

“Good morning,” Sophie said, beaming at his larger companion and batting her thick lashes at him. The man barely glanced at Sophie.

Instead, he surveyed the coffee shop, tension in his body and the set of his jaw, as if he was scanning for danger.

In a just-opening coffee shop in Mountain Bend?

For a reason, she could not put her finger on, Maddie thought that the men did not quite seem equals, the younger man effortlessly the leader between them.

“We aren’t usually open yet,” Sophie said to the bigger man’s back. “But you looked like a couple of hungry guys.”

“Thank you,” the other said, his pleasantness making up for his friend’s remoteness. “That’s very kind. We are hungry. It would be dinnertime where we are from.”

That accent, Maddie decided, could melt bones. Plus, there was something about him, a deep graciousness, that went with beautifully manicured hands, the perfect haircut, the fresh-shaven face. Despite the khakis and sport shirt, this was not your ordinary let’s check out the hiking and fishing type of man who spent a week with his guy friends in the mountainous Oregon village.

“Have a seat anywhere,” Sophie invited them. “We don’t offer dinner—we’re just a day café. We close at three o’clock. But we have a great breakfast. I’ll bring menus. Unless you want to look at the display case?”

“Menus, thank you.” Again, it was the younger one who spoke.

Sophie nearly tripped over herself in her eagerness to get the men menus as they took a table by the window. Maddie ordered herself to get busy. Still, even as she filled cream pitchers, she was aware of that man, reluctantly feeling as if she had been given an irresistible reprieve from the worries that crowded her waking moments.

“So, in what exciting part of the world is it dinnertime right now?” Sophie was back. She hugged the menus to herself instead of giving them out.

The big man looked at her, irritated at Sophie’s question. His look clearly said, Mind your own business .

“Scotland,” the other said, flashing Sophie an easy smile.

Maddie felt her heart dip at, not just the perfect teeth, but the natural sexiness in that smile, a heat that continued to his eyes, making the sapphire in them more intense.

“I thought so,” Sophie said sagely, as if she was a world expert on dialects. “I detected a certain Braveheart in the accent. Your car is dreamy. I’m Sophie. And you are?”

Maddie put down the cream. “Sophie, if I could see you?” Obviously, she was going to have to give a lecture on being a little more professional. Dreamy car and introductions, indeed.