Martha Shields - The Blacksheep Prince's Bride

Was that all for show?

Rowena shook away the tender feelings.

Jake was a suspect in the king’s disappearance. That’s what she had to concentrate on—trying to find evidence that would incriminate him, which would exonerate Isabel’s brother, Nicholas.

Rowena had promised Isabel she’d search high and low for evidence…but now that she was here, she found it difficult to believe Jake capable of such a crime—which meant she had to concentrate doubly hard on her purpose in being here.

Even if she hadn’t already known, the incident earlier had proven she was strongly attracted to Jake. She’d almost pushed up on her toes and kissed the man…right there in front of Sammy.

Her stupid attraction was the reason she didn’t believe he was guilty. She didn’t want to believe it. That, and the unhappy realization that finding Jake guilty—a man who loved his son so much—would leave Sammy fatherless.

Concentrating wasn’t going to be easy. When she’d felt his obvious reaction to her lying on top of him, all she could think of was wiggling her way up his body and planting her lips on his. Thank God he’d held her in place. Though she’d enjoyed the intimacy of his hands on her derriere, the caress had distracted her long enough for her to pull her wits together and stop.

Who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t?

He wanted her. That was plain enough. After he’d pulled her to her feet, he’d almost kissed her. She was as certain of that as she was of her name.

But he didn’t want to want her—and his sarcastic question had told her why.

You’re never forward, are you, Miss Wilde?

He didn’t trust her because of her reputation.

Rowena’s nails dug into her palms.

How long would Prince Heinrich’s duplicity haunt her?

She’d given her heart to the royal rake from Leuvendan five years ago. He’d visited often back then, wooing her passionately. But when she wouldn’t sleep with him, he became angry and told everyone that she had anyway, giving them ugly, nasty details from his sick imagination.

That incident, it seemed, had branded her for life. Edenbourg—especially the palace—was a small place. Everyone knew everyone else’s secrets…and never forgot.

Many men who came to Edenbourg wanted to date her—either despite her reputation or because of it. She went out with some of them, mostly to keep Isabel happy. But she never slept with a single one—partly to prove she was not the wanton everyone thought her, partly because she just didn’t want to.

However, her celibacy didn’t help. A few of the men were too honorable to talk about their relationship, but most were too egocentric to let everyone think the woman who slept with everyone else wouldn’t sleep with them.

She couldn’t win.

Although…

In this situation, perhaps her undeserved reputation would protect her. She was far too attracted to Jake. Though good fathers weren’t often rakes, he was still royal. At least, close enough to count.

She’d promised herself that she’d never fall in love again…but especially not with a royal, or any man with a title. They were too self-absorbed, too accustomed to getting their own way.

So, let him believe she was “forward.”

As for her, she had to focus on the task she had to perform for her country, for Isabel.

It didn’t matter that the task came with shoulders as wide as the horizon, sky-blue eyes capable of peering all the way into her soul, and chiseled lips that demanded, “Kiss me.”

Those lips might also be capable of saying, “Kill him,” to some thug as he looked a king straight in the eye.

Rowena shivered.

She hated this house. It was always cold.

Later that evening, Jake held Sammy’s door open for Rowena.

She tiptoed out and waited for him to close it softly.

He turned and looked down at her in the dim light of the hallway. Though they hadn’t been in the same room since dinner, he’d felt her presence in the house all evening. A subtle awareness, a whiff of her lingering scent, a trill of laughter from another end of the house.

He was aware of her now, intensely, as he’d been while they’d put Sammy to bed.

“Goodnight, Mr. Stanbury,” she said with a nervous smile, then turned to leave.

“It’s only eight-thirty,” he said quickly, reluctant to let her go. “Surely you’re not turning in so early?”

She lifted a slender shoulder. “I have a book in my room.”

He waved a hand toward the stairs. “I’m going to work in the library. You’re welcome to read down there.”

She glanced toward the stairs, then back at him. Her eyes zeroed in on his lips, as if she were remembering the kiss they’d almost shared that afternoon.

He hadn’t been able to think about anything else all evening. And if she came with him to the library, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his work.

Why had he asked her?

Because he didn’t want to concentrate on his work. The zing in his blood, put there by the presence of this small woman, was infinitely more interesting than international trade briefs.

“No, I shouldn’t.” Her words sounded breathless.

He should just let her go, but he couldn’t. “Why not?”

She seemed surprised that he pushed it. “It’s just not a good idea.”

Let it go, Jake. Let her go. “Why not?”

She frowned at him. “Because you’re a prince and I’m a servant. That kind of…fraternization is frowned upon.”

“Perhaps a hundred years ago, but not today.”

“We don’t do things here the way you do in the United States. Here, we treat our royalty like royalty.” She squared her shoulders. “Besides, I want to concentrate on my book. I think I’ve guessed who the murderer is and he’s about to be revealed. So goodnight, Mr. Stanbury. Have a pleasant evening.”

She spun on her heel and walked down the hall to the next room, which was now hers. He watched her every stiff step of the way.

Just as she opened the door, he said, “It’s Jake, Rowena. Remember that.”

At his words, she hesitated just long enough for him to know she had to make herself go into her room.

When her door closed with a loud click, he headed down the stairs.

“Daddy! Guess what?”

Rowena glanced over her shoulder as she reached for the coffeepot…and caught her breath.

Tousled and unshaven, Jake stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at her blankly. “Oh. Rowena. I forgot…I heard noise down here and thought Sammy was trying to make breakfast himself. Mrs. Hanson only cooks lunch and dinner.”

He was dressed only in pajama bottoms. Since they weren’t rumpled, Rowena knew that he’d thrown them on to rush downstairs…which meant he slept in the nude.

She swallowed with difficulty. That was a little too much information for her comfort zone.

Her gaze wandered over the light mat of dark hair covering his broad, well-defined chest. “I…” She had to swallow to open her suddenly constricted throat. “I know.”

The only place she’d ever seen such a beautiful body on a man was in the pages of fashion magazines. Edenbourg’s rocky beaches were not exactly a mecca for sunbathers.

“Guess what, Daddy?” Sammy held up his plate. “Ena made me waffles. Booberry.”

“She did?” Jake frowned at his son, who had syrup all over his hands and mouth, then glanced up. “I usually fix breakfast.”

“I know.” Rowena couldn’t manage a more coherent answer. She could barely manage to breathe.

Though his eyes were slightly red and his hair hadn’t been combed, Jake was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. Or was it because of his dishabille that he was sexy?

“Nothing this fancy, though. These look good.” Jake picked a bite of waffle from his son’s plate. “Oh yeah. These are great.”