The Irresistible Prince. Lisa Laurel Kaye
his throat. “It was my intention that we eat in the dining room, Miss Lane.”
“We don’t have to be so formal. Please, call me Annah.”
“And expect to dine with you here in the kitchen?” He hadn’t forgotten that she was his guest, despite the fact that she had come in and taken charge of the meal.
But that seemed to be her preference. “It’s cozier in here,” she said reasonably, stirring the pot on the stove again.
“Would be, if someone had built a fire in that hearth,” Lucas muttered, and then busied himself doing just that. Until now it had escaped his notice that the sweater she was wearing didn’t look anywhere near as warm as his—although she filled it out a lot better, a fact which hadn’t escaped his notice at all. He forced himself to concentrate on the work at hand, and soon a roaring blaze filled the big stone fireplace.
She paused in her work to look at his. “You’re quite good at that,” she remarked.
Lucas turned to her. “It’s a skill a man learns early, where I’m from.”
A hint of amusement played at the corners of her lips. “Even when you’re a prince?”
“Of course,” he said seriously, not sure what she was getting at. As the only child of royal parentage, he didn’t have much experience with being teased. Was that what she was doing, or did she really think that his being a prince meant that he was some kind of wimp? Despite that niggling question, he found that putting his hands to use had righted his perspective. This wasn’t a formal affair of state, after all, and having Annah prepare dinner seemed like much less of a big deal than the leap of faith he was taking by putting his future into her hands. Still, Lucas trusted his friends. And it was clear that he himself had no way, mysterious or otherwise, to tell whether a woman was right for him. What’s more, he was wise enough to know that he needed a partner, someone who lived in the town and knew its people. Someone who could weed out the unsuitables and make introductions. Had they known about it, the grandmothers who gathered to gossip in village stores on the Constellation Isles would say that their prince had hired himself a matchmaker—and about time, too! He himself was more comfortable thinking of Annah Lane in terms of a consultant
That thought renewed his sense of purpose and his curiosity about her qualifications. Weren’t matchmakers supposed to be older, more-experienced women? “If I may be so bold as to ask, how can you help others find suitable matches when you are not married yourself?” he asked her.
“Been there, done that,” she said offhandedly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m divorced,” she clarified.
He didn’t remember Erik or Whit mentioning that. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling badly that he’d asked.
She waved away his apology. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. And she sounded as if it didn’t.
That made him feel a little better, so he asked something that did matter. “Do you really think you’ll be able to help me find the kind of woman I’m looking for?”
She seemed to be thinking it over. “Let me make sure I understand exactly what you want,” she said. “First of all, why Anders Point?”
“Princes find brides here,” he said, making it sound, to Annah’s amusement, as if finding the right woman was a simple matter of geography. “And this seems like a pretty good place to find the kind of woman I am looking for. Someone like the women Erik and Whit found.”
“Sorry,” Annah said, unable to keep from smiling at that. “I’m fresh out of best friends, and even if I had one left, I don’t think I’d let you have her, anyway. It’s getting lonely around here, with princes swooping in and carrying them off to live happily ever after.”
She hoped she wasn’t imagining the slight smile she saw underneath his beard. If he had even a smidgen of a sense of humor behind that royal demeanor, maybe he would go for her plan after all. “What is it about them that you would want in a wife?” she prodded.
He thought about that. “I guess it’s that they’re so—” he paused, as if groping for the right word “—ordinary.”
“Oh, boy,” she said playfully, rolling her eyes. “You’d best keep that one under your crown, Your Highness. No woman likes to think of herself as ordinary.”
“You misunderstand me,” he said, frowning.
“Then make me understand,” she said, smiling at him encouragingly. “If you want me to find a bride for you, give me something to work with.” She placed her hand on his and jiggled it playfully, hoping to get him to lighten up a little. The casual touch had the opposite effect on her. Once again chills danced through her, and they didn’t stop at the point of contact, but radiated up her arm, warm and mysterious. Again she pulled back abruptly.
If he noticed anything, she couldn’t tell from his response. “When I say I want an ordinary woman, I mean a woman who’s not like—” He stopped cold.
“Not like the women you meet at diplomatic parties, state dinners and other official events?” she suggested.
“That’s right,” he said, as if marveling at her insight.
It was as she had expected, but she was still relieved to hear him admit it. “Good,” she said. “Because that’s the whole basis of my plan.”
“What plan?”
She took a deep breath and plunged right in. “It’s simple, really,” she said. “The best way to find an ordinary woman is to be an ordinary man.”
“No doubt,” he said dryly. “But the fact of the matter is, I am a prince.”
She held her gaze steady. “You know that, and I know that—but we’ve established the fact that no one else in Anders Point knows that.”
“That still doesn’t make me an ordinary man,” he said.
“Doesn’t it?”
“Miss Lane,” he began, the intensity in his gray eyes sending warmth her way.
“Annah,” she said, correcting him automatically. He was an ordinary man, she told herself, and she was going to treat him like one. Not like a prince. Not like a man who could make her insides cook at a glance. Just an ordinary man.
“Annah, what exactly are you getting at?”
She looked straight at him. “Okay, here it is. I think you should go undercover.”
He stared at her. “Undercover?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“You can’t be serious,” he said, frowning.
“Why not?” she said. “Remember, no one knows you’re here.”
“So you want me to change my identity?”
“Not change it—hide it,” she corrected. “Your princely identity, that is.”
“That’s crazy!”
“On the contrary, it’s perfectly logical, Your Highness,” she countered calmly. “I’m not asking you to renounce the throne or anything. Just to do without your title for a while. Tell me, do you have a surname? I’ve only ever heard you referred to as Prince Lucas.”
He was still looking at her as if she had taken leave of her good sense. “It’s Hansson. By custom it is not used.”
“Good,” she said. “You can be here as Luke Hansson, ordinary man, instead of as Prince Lucas, ruler of the Constellation Isles and wife hunter.”
“But being a prince is who I am,” he pointed out.
“A part of who you are. You’re also a man, a man who says he’s looking for an ordinary, small-town woman. I say she’ll