Victoria Chancellor - The Prince's Texas Bride

“I thought women worried more than men about aging.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about getting older. It’s just that my father, King Wilheim, has decided that thirty is a magical number. It’s the age at which I should settle down and choose a bride.”

“Choose a bride? That sounds so…archaic.”

He shrugged, then rested his arm on the open window and stared at the passing flat plains dotted with patches of wildflowers and barbed-wire fences. “What can I say? I’m a prince. You can’t get much more archaic than that.”

As she neared the intersection of Interstate 10, Kerry wondered if that was what this whole “road trip” incident was all about for Prince Alexi. Running away from his life. Running away from the responsibility of finding a bride.

She wondered if the men in her life would always lack reliability and maturity. Her father had loved gambling and excitement more than his family. Hank was a nice guy, but he flirted and teased his way through life. And now she was on a road trip with a prince—a prince, for goodness’ sake!—who’d left his entourage with the drop of a hat. What did that say about him? That he didn’t care? Or that he couldn’t be trusted? Or maybe both.

He certainly didn’t seem excited about marrying one of the “beautiful people” among the elite in Europe. He’d marry someone tall, slim and elegant and within a few years they’d produce the next generation of tall, elegant royalty. She’d never seen a photo of royalty in which the women were petite, freckled and “wholesome”—a description she’d heard from family and friends one too many times.

The difference between Prince Alexi and her long-gone father, Kerry mused, was that dear ol’ Dad had run away after he’d fathered three daughters. He’d left four people confused and angry, while Alexi had infuriated his public-relations director…and maybe disappointed his king. He certainly wasn’t married yet, so maybe he’d settle down someday soon.

She risked a glance at him, wondering why he didn’t remind her more of Hank since they looked so much alike. Alexi’s striking profile was highlighted by morning sunlight streaming in through the windshield. His handsome features and confidence probably came from generations of blue blood. She imagined that he was used to getting whatever he wanted, even if his whim was a trip to Galveston in an un-air-conditioned car named Delores.

Perhaps he was a little like her dad, she thought as she headed east on Interstate 10, but not much. Not too much, anyway…

Alexi settled back against the fake leopard fur seat and let the warmth of the Texas day seep into his bones. He’d taken several short vacations in the past year or so, but they’d involved rushed trips to the Mediterranean or skiing in the Alps, hiding from the paparazzi, trying to have a personal life in impersonal fancy suites and ski lodges. Nothing at all like a long drive across the Texas prairie in an aging Toyota.

Nothing at all like a trip with Kerry Lynn Jacks.

“You have a real ‘cat ate the canary’ smile on your face,” she said, her voice drifting through the drowsy noontime like feathers through mist.

“Hmm. Well, I do feel rather contented at the moment.”

She chuckled. “You’re an easy man to please…Mack.”

“I know a score of people who would disagree with you. Starting with my public-relations director, who is probably still fuming.”

“That was kind of mean of you—leaving her standing there in the parking lot, stamping her foot.”

Alexi smiled. “Yes, that was rather bad of me. I’ll make it up to her, though. Besides, I told her I didn’t want to make the appearances in San Antonio. She was filling in some time until we discovered if the president was going to come to his ranch for the weekend.”

The car swerved as Kerry gasped. Alexi opened one eye and looked around.

“The president! You mean you were supposed to meet with the president and you ran off to Galveston with me instead?”

“The meeting wasn’t assured. We had no idea if he’d be traveling to Texas. You know how things come up.”

“Oh, of course,” she said in a highly stressed voice. When he glanced at her, she made a sweeping gesture with her hands. “I know exactly how things can just come up with you heads of state.”

“Really, Kerry, I doubt that the meeting would have occurred. Congress and world events can be very unpredictable. Besides, originally I had wanted to take a few days of holiday, but Lady Gwendolyn insisted we keep to a tight schedule.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m in my car, having a conversation with a prince who was going to spend the weekend with the president.”

“No, you’re driving to Galveston with your good friend Mack.”

“Hey, I’m the one having the fantasy, okay?”

“Are you so sure?” he asked. Kerry might not look like the models and aspiring actresses who attended the events he usually frequented. She was cute rather than beautiful, petite rather than statuesque and honest rather than calculating. He found her honesty and natural charm extremely desirable. “I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather spend time with, and that includes your current leader.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came forth. For once, he’d managed to silence her somewhat saucy remarks.

Closing his eyes, he settled back against the seat once more. The sound of the tires rolling down the highway lulled him into sleep, and he dozed, a vision of Kerry’s amazed expression bringing a smile to his lips.

“WHERE ARE WE?” Alexi—or Mack—slowly opened his eyes. Lord, he looked good when he woke up. Really, really sexy. How was she going to keep her hands off him for three days?

“We’re in Sealy, about an hour outside of Houston.” She drove past the Wal-Mart and several fast-food places until she spotted a service station with a food mart. “Are you hungry? We can get a snack, although I’d like to wait to eat supper with my aunt and uncle tonight, if possible.”

She pulled off the interstate onto the service road.

“Very good. I could use a cold drink.” He raised his lean, muscular torso off Delores’s seat and stretched, as much as possible, inside the tight confines of the car. “I hadn’t realized I was so sleepy,” he said as she pulled to a stop at the gas pumps.

Kerry tore her eyes away from his tempting body and reached for the door handle. “You can get a soft drink or some water if you’d like. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll help you,” he said, opening his own door.

“No, that’s okay.” She needed a few minutes apart from him. For the past several hours, she’d had time to think about this trip. About him. About what she was doing driving a real, live prince around Texas.

Maybe this adventure was a big mistake.

“It’s been several years, but I think I can remember how to fuel up your vehicle.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Kerry, if I truly were Hank, wouldn’t you let me help?”

“Well…”

Right there beside the gas pumps, Delores’s poor old engine popping and wheezing beside them, he used one finger to tip up her chin. “I’m Mack, your friend, remember? Treat me just like you would Hank.”

“I’m having a hard time with that,” she whispered.

“Kerry Lynn Jacks, you are thinking too much,” he answered with a smile.

His smile slowly faded. Her lips slowly parted. He leaned closer, closer…Just when she thought he might kiss her, her car let out a particularly loud ping. Blinking, Kerry stepped back.

“Seriously,” she said. “I’ll pump the gas. If you’d like to do something nice, you can buy me a soft drink. Anything cold with caffeine.”

“Very well,” he said with a sigh.

“Oh, and Mack,” she said, emphasizing the nickname, “whatever you do, don’t use the word schedule.” His pronunciation of “shed-yule” would give him away immediately.

He chuckled, waving off her concern, and she went back to filling up Delores’s tank, probably for the last time.

After they’d both used the facilities, they piled back into the car. In the few minutes they’d been apart, Kerry had gotten herself under control again. Okay, so she was chauffeuring a prince around Texas. And pretending he was someone else. She could do this.

But he had to help.

“Look, if you’re going to be ‘Mack’ instead of Prince Alexi,” she said as she started Delores’s reluctant engine, “you need to talk like you’re from Texas instead of London.”

“We can work on that on the way to Galveston.”

“Okay. So tell me about your family—your real one, that is, not something you’d make up to fit your Texas persona—but use your best Texas accent.”

“Hmm, very well,” he began.

“Wait just a minute. Don’t say ‘very well.’ Texans just don’t talk that way. You can say ‘okay’ instead.”

“Okay,” he responded with a tight smile. “I’m the oldest son of King Wilheim of Belegovia. I have a brother who lives in our country and a sister who is attending university—”

“Nope, she’s ‘goin’ to college,”’ Kerry interrupted.

“Okay, she’s goin’ to college at my alma mater, Harvard.”

“Pretty classy,” Kerry said with a grin. “You’re getting better, by the way. Just relax. Go ahead.”

“Let’s see…Oh, yes. My mother lives in England.”

“Are your parents divorced?”

“No, but they haven’t lived together since shortly after our country became a separate entity after liberation from the Soviet Union.”

“Okay, tell that to me again in Texas-style English.”

Alexi laughed. “Sorry. Belegovia is an old monarchy that was swallowed up by the Soviet Union after World War II. My grandfather fled the country with his family and sought asylum in England.”

“So the queen took you in.”

“Actually, I—”

“No ‘actually,’ either. Just go ahead and tell me.”

“Very…er, sorry,” he responded with a grin. “My father was a very young man when they settled in England. I wasn’t born yet.”

“Oh, so that’s why your mother is from England.”

“Right. And she prefers to live there. You see, she never expected my father to become king. After all, he didn’t have a country when they married, and there wasn’t any clue that we’d ever get it back.”

“So she didn’t want to be a queen.”

“She didn’t want to give up her life, her home, her friends,” Alexi said, his expression showing he’d resigned himself to his parents’ situation long ago. “My father taught history. She was much happier being married to a professor than a king.”

“I suppose I can understand her point. I mean, there’s got to be a lot of hassles when you’re a monarch. Lack of privacy, lots of expectations.”

“And don’t forget all those public appearances,” he said with a grin.

Kerry gave him what she hoped was a chastising frown.

“To give her credit, she tried to fit in for a short while, but the country was still chaotic when we returned to Belegovia. The parliament and some of the courts were in operation, but the palace had yet to be restored and the role of the king was still tenuous.”

“Texas talk, remember?” she prodded.

“Oh, of course.” He frowned for a moment, then brightened. “The place was a damned mess,” he finally said with a grin and a drawl.

Kerry laughed. “By George, I think he’s got it,” she said in her best Henry Higgins imitation.

She sipped her soft drink as they drew closer to Houston. She hoped they missed most of the rush hour traffic, which could be brutal, from what she’d heard from her aunt and uncle. They avoided “the city,” which meant anywhere in or near Houston, whenever possible, preferring the slower pace of life on the island.