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Chapter One
The youngest prince of Danislova was as cute as a bug. And he danced
like a dream. So divinely, in fact, that Dixie Anne Beaumont allowed herself to
snuggle into his embrace as he guided them around the dance floor.
In her travels, Dixie usually ran in pretty exalted circles. She’d met
a few nobles in her day. Most were her daddy’s age. Some had tried to let their
happy hands go exploring in places on her body she didn’t appreciate—advances
she’d rebuffed by suggesting they’d lose a few fingers if they kept it up. None
had interested her until this one. And if she could read his signals correctly,
he was interested, too.
“How long are you staying in Danislova?” he said as he managed the
exact distance between them to get nice and close but not close enough for
others to disapprove.
“I hadn’t given it much thought beyond serving as my friend Casey’s
bridesmaid. Or I guess I should say matron.”
His eyebrows went up. “Matron, not maid?”
“I was married for a time,” she said. “The worst five years of my
life.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m rid of him now.” Phil, her asshole ex, had tried to ruin
Casey’s chance at happiness. Dixie had intervened to save the day, and now
she’d been part of a royal wedding party. Great fun all around.
“The men in my family don’t divorce,” the prince said.
“You don’t say. That’s as good a reason to stay single as I’ve ever
heard.”
He laughed and pulled her an inch or two closer. “I like the way you
think.”
“I like the way you dance, Your Highness.”
The spark of masculine interest entered his blue eyes again. He’d been
sending signals since she first arrived for the rehearsal dinner. After a
lifetime of flirting, minus the five years with Phil, Dixie knew how to send
them back. Things were moving along smoothly.
“We know each other well enough to use first names, don’t you think?”
he said.
Indeed. And they’d know each other more than well before she headed
home. Maybe sooner rather than later. “I’m Dixie Anne, but my friends call me
Dixie.”
“Only people who don’t know me call me Your Highness,” he answered.
“And only my family uses my real name, Ulrich. I’m Rick to everyone else.”
The everyone else probably included a whole lot of women. He stood tall
and wore finely tailored clothes. Unlike his brothers and father, who were eye
candy in their own right, Rick VonRamsberg had blond hair and blue eyes with
insanely long lashes. Dimples and a mouth created for sin made him perfectly
irresistible, and she had no reason to resist.
He swirled them and dipped so when they came back up, their bodies touched.
Interesting.
“My father is planning to take Casey and her parents on a tour of
Danislova,” he said. “Can you stay long enough to come with us?”
“No one’s invited me.”
“I’m inviting you.” His voice dropped in pitch, just enough to suggest
his invitation had less to do with touring castles than touring each other.
“I don’t know. I have responsibilities at home.”
He stiffened ever so slightly. “What responsibilities?”
“My dog, for one.” Come to think of it, she probably didn’t have any
other responsibility at all.
“Where’s the dog now?”
“My ex is taking care of her.” It had been Phil’s idea to get a dog,
but he’d wanted something big and masculine, not a tiny mutt.
“Can he continue to keep the dog?”
“I guess.” Phil would complain. Let him.
“There, you see?”
The music stopped, but he didn’t release her for a few seconds. They
stood, staring into each other’s faces, until common sense returned and she
stepped back. Still, he didn’t let her go completely but curved her arm around
his to lead her from the dance floor.
“Let’s find some champagne, shall we?” he said.
“Let’s do.”
Luckily, a server carrying a tray of champagne flutes stopped by, and
the prince took two glasses. As he handed one to Dixie, he gave her a slight
bow. All very regal and proper. The gleam in his eyes as he did it suggested he
could follow up with improper behavior if given the chance. Her breath caught
for a split second. He made a stunning display of masculine beauty, and for a
moment her imagination went wild picturing what she’d find under the starched,
white shirt. Or more importantly inside his pants. Somehow, she’d have to find
a way to get beyond subtle to direct or they could end up dancing around each
other for days before they got down to the nitty-gritty.
Keeping her gaze steadily on his, she tipped her glass against the one
in his hand and then curled her arm around his to bring her champagne to her
mouth.
His eyes widened in surprise for no more than a heartbeat, but then, he
bent his own arm so he could drink as well. The action brought their faces only
inches from each other, and she couldn’t help but stare as his lower lip
touched the glass. He caressed it, knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to
look away, the scamp. It was a purely seductive move that connected to her
heart and places south, excitement zinging along her nerves. Oh, my. Oh, my,
oh, my.
Suddenly, the air seemed to grow hot, and she pulled back and lifted a
hand to fan her face. He simply stood, smiling. He knew the effect he had on
her, and he was enjoying himself. Two could play at that, and she could get a
rise out of him if she tried. Literally.
She turned toward the dance floor, as if she had any interest in anyone
out there. Her heartbeat continued at a rapid pace.
“You don’t resemble your brothers or your father,” she said.
“I look like my mother’s side of the family,” he said.
“You’re all handsome devils, though, aren’t you?” she said. “Even your
father.”
He took a position next to her, almost touching, and also feigned an
interest in the dancers. “Are you including me in that?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I’m flattered,” he answered.
“Not flattery if it’s true.”
“Shall I return the compliment?”
She glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes. “Only if it’s
honest.”
“Honesty,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”
The rapid beat of her heart became a flutter. “I don’t see how that’s
possible. I mean, the bride—”
“Casey’s lovely. So are Felice and Lady Marta and any number of other
women.” He turned toward her. “They aren’t you.”
“Why, sir, you take my breath away.” In times of stress and excitement,
the southern part of her personality snuck out. She was certainly excited now.
He didn’t remark on the accent she still carried but smiled in a way
that suggested she’d charmed him. “What shall we do to get your breath back?”
“Nothing. I like it this way.”
“You’re very direct, Miss…Dixie.” He was smiling in earnest now, his
expression suggesting openness to anything she might say.
“My granny taught me to say what I mean and mean what I say,” she
replied.
“Very admirable of her.”
“So, what I’m thinking is one of us should seduce the other,” she said.
“I just can’t decide which.”
His eyes widened in surprise, no doubt at her directness, but then, his
grin widened. “Why not make it mutual?”
“Mutual seduction.” Success. If she’d stayed around for the tour of
Danislova, she would have ended up in his bed at some point. Why put off the
pleasure?
“That sounds wonderful,” she said. “But we should be discreet. The
whole world doesn’t need to know our business.”
“Agreed,” he said. “Later, then? I’ll come to you.”
“I’ll find you, instead.” That way, she could leave once they’d had
their fun. No point getting attached to anyone because after five years of Phil
Comstock she’d never get married again.
“Fine,” he said. “I’m in the family wing, near Casey and Kurt. I’ll
leave my door ajar so you’ll know where I am.”
“I’ll come after the party winds down.”
“I’ll be there.”
Just then, Casey came running up to Dixie almost at top speed. She
caught Dixie’s wrist. “Come on. I’m going to throw the bouquet.”
Dixie held back. “Oh, no. You’re not getting me into that crowd.”
“But you might catch it,” Casey said.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dixie said. “I made that mistake once.”
Casey tugged in Dixie’s wrist again. “Come on.”
Rick took Dixie’s glass. “If the bride wants you to do something…”
“Rick’s right,” Casey said. “It’s my wedding. I get to order everyone
around.”
“Oh, all right.” Dixie allowed Casey to pull her away from the gorgeous
man she’d be having sex with later. She’d have to kill time until then, anyway.
In the meantime, she’d duck if the bouquet got within ten feet of her.
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