The King's Convenient Bride / The Illegitimate Prince's Baby. Michelle Celmer

barely knew her.” He glanced over at her. “She was cold, overbearing and heartless.”

      Her parents certainly hadn’t been perfect, but she never once doubted their love for her. “That’s sad.”

      He shrugged, as though it didn’t bother him in the least. They stopped at the edge of the woods, near the base of a barely perceptible and frightfully narrow path cut through the trees flanked with thick underbrush. “I’d like to show you something.”

      “Okay.”

      “It’s untended, so watch your step.”

      He tugged her along after him, the woods swallowing them up, transporting them instantly into a world that was quiet and serene, and rich with the scent of earth and vegetation. Even the sun couldn’t penetrate the dense canopy of leaves overhead.

      “I’m going to assume there are no dangerous wild animals out here,” she said, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

      “I assure you, we’re perfectly safe.”

      She followed him for several hundred feet, and could swear she heard the sound of running water. The deeper they descended, the louder it became. Finally they reached a clearing and bisecting the forest was a quaint, bubbling brook. It was like something out of a storybook.

      “It’s lovely!” she told him.

      “My sister and I used to play here when we were children,” he said, releasing her hand so she could investigate. “It was forbidden, which made it all the more appealing. We would sneak away from our nanny and spend hours investigating.”

      And so would her and Phillip’s children.

      She made her way to the water’s edge, and though it probably wasn’t proper, she couldn’t resist toeing off her sandal and dipping into the chilly water. “You were close? You and Sophie?”

      “When we were small. But now Sophie and I are very…different.”

      “How is that?”

      “You’ll find that my sister is something of a free spirit.”

      “She’s independent?”

      “That’s putting it mildly.”

      She might have been imagining it, but she could swear he sounded sad. Maybe he missed the relationship they’d had. If his mother was as cold as he’d described, maybe they were all the other had.

      “I always wanted a brother or sister,” she told him.

      “And ironically, I always wished I were an only child. Siblings are highly overrated.”

      Somehow she doubted that. “You have a brother, too.”

      “Half brother.” His response was so full of venom, his eyes so icy, it gave her a cold chill. Maybe this was a subject best left alone for the time being. She was sure that once they got to know each other, he would open up more.

      One step at a time, she reminded herself.

      She slipped back into her sandal, a sudden chill making her shiver. Goose bumps broke out across her arms and she rubbed to warm them.

      “You’re cold,” he said. He shrugged out of his sport coat and slipped it around her. It was warm and soft and smelled like him.

      He arranged it on her shoulders, using both hands to ease her hair from underneath it, his fingers brushing the back of her neck. She shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the temperature. At least, not the air. Her inner thermostat on the other hand had begun a steady climb.

      It was the way he looked at her, so…thoroughly. As though he wanted to devour her with his eyes.

      “I like your hair down,” he said, brushing it gently back from her face. “Promise me you’ll wear it like this all the time.”

      “I have so much natural curl that when I wear it down, it tends to look kind of…untamed.”

      His mouth pulled into one of those sexy, simmering smiles. “I know. I like you that way.”

      Oh, boy, here we go again.

      “It wouldn’t be proper.”

      “Proper is also highly overrated. Besides, I make the rules. And I hereby decree that, from this day forward, you are to wear your hair down.”

      She might have been offended if she thought for a second that he was serious about the royal decree thing. Besides, he was standing so close that the testosterone he was giving off was beginning to short-circuit her brain.

      He cupped the side of her face, traced her features with his thumb. Her cheek, her brow, the corner of her mouth. Her internal thermometer shot up another ten degrees and her knees started to feel soft and squishy. She knew it would be best to stop him, but they had connected emotionally today. Physical affection just seemed like the natural next step.

      Maybe a bit too natural.

      His eyes searched her face. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

      She took in a deep breath. “Your Highness, I suspect you’re trying to seduce me.”

      “If I am, it seems to be working.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “You’re blushing.”

      She didn’t have a snappy comeback for that one. And, oh, how she wanted to touch him. To put her hands on his chest and feel his heart beating, feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, across his face, feel the faint shadow of stubble on his cheeks.

      He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Your skin feels warm here.”

      Probably because her blood was hovering just below the boiling point.

      He stroked lower, down her chin and throat, his eyes following the path of his hand. Then lower still, just above the swell of her breasts. It was a move so intimate and sexually charged, and wonderful, that she went weak all over. With desire and fear and curiosity.

      He lifted his eyes to hers. “And here.”

      “Phillip—”

      “I know, I’m breaking the no-touching rule.” He caressed the uppermost swell of her breasts with the tips of his fingers and her knees nearly buckled with the new, erotic sensation. “But as king, I make my own rules.” He leaned in closer, until his mouth was only inches from hers. “And nothing is going to stop me from kissing you.”

      Well then, there wasn’t much point in telling him no, was there? Besides, what harm could one kiss do? A real kiss this time. How far could it go, out here in the woods?

      “Just one kiss,” she told him, as though his demand even required a response.

      He cupped her cheek and mini explosions of sensation detonated under her skin.

      She was getting that weak, dizzy feeling again. “Then we stop.”

      His other hand slipped through her hair to cradle the back of her head. He lowered his head and she lifted hers to meet him, her eyes slipping closed. Then their lips touched, barely more than a brush, and time seemed to stand still. It was just her lips and his lips, their breath mingling.

      It was unbelievably wonderful. So sweet and gentle, as though she were a delicate piece of china he thought he might break. And while her head was telling her it was time to pull away, time to stop, her heart was telling her just a little longer. Because sweet and gentle wasn’t enough for her this time. She wanted more.

      Which was why, when Phillip deepened the kiss, when she felt his tongue tease the seam of her lips, she didn’t do or say a thing to stop him. And when she gave in, opened up to him, the kiss went from sweet to simmering in the span of a heartbeat.

      He tunneled his fingers through her hair, drew her against the length of his long, solid frame. She couldn’t help but put her arms