Be My Prince Read Free

a long, slow swig as he awaited her reply.
    “I don’t need to scramble for anything,” she said. “All I need to do is wait patiently, for His Royal Highness has already invited me to join him in a dance. I simply required a bit of air, that is all.”
    “Air?” The stranger stood and approached. He was an imposing figure to be sure, and she was strangely spellbound by each step he took across the terrace. “We have something in common, then.”
    The torchlight danced in a sudden gust of wind. “And what, pray tell, is that?”
    He halted before her. “We both like to breathe.”
    Alexandra watched him for a moment, then narrowed her guarded, suspicious gaze. “You smell like a distillery. Are you drunk?”
    “Only a little, but let us keep that to ourselves, shall we?”
    As it happened, she was very good at keeping secrets.
    Nevertheless, there were rules of etiquette to consider. “If you are drunk, sir, then a royal ball is no place for you. You ought to go home. I have no doubt you’ll feel much better in the morning.”
    He chuckled. “I doubt that.”
    She glanced down at his boots, then let her eyes wander with interest up the impressive length of his body. He was strong and well proportioned and possessed the firm, muscled thighs of an active horseman.
    “I suppose I wouldn’t know about such things,” she replied. “I’ve never had more than a few sips of anything. Not that it’s any business of yours.” She gave a quick curtsy. “Good evening, sir.”
    She tried to leave, but he blocked her way.
    “Don’t go yet.” He leaned close to speak softly in her ear—so close that she could smell the brandy on his breath and feel the moist heat of his words on her lobe. “I need someone to talk to, and I like the sound of your voice. It reminds me of…”
    He paused, and her breath caught in her throat.
    He was unbelievably attractive.
    “Of what?” she cautiously asked.
    Those dark eyebrows pulled together. “I’m afraid I can’t quite recall, but I am certain it will come to me.”
    Alexandra felt a heated stirring of arousal in her core. She worked hard to quell it, however, for she was here on a mission, and this was not it.
    Thankfully, he backed away and gave her some space to collect herself—though it was not easy to do.
    “This is not appropriate,” she said, realizing with more than a little displeasure that she was stalling, for this mysterious horseman from the shadows was an overwhelming distraction—and heaven knew she needed one. “We have not been properly introduced.”
    “You are quite correct,” he replied. “Where is your chaperone? Shall I call for her?”
    “No!” She looked inside, then spoke in a quieter tone. “Please do not.”
    For she knew exactly what her stepmother would say. Lucille would demand to know why Alex had taken her eyes off the prize.
    The horseman glanced toward the open doors. “Fine, then. We’ll take care of the introductions ourselves. I’ll tell you my name if you promise to tell me yours.”
    “Agreed,” she replied, “but then you must let me pass.”
    He bowed to indicate his agreement. “Very well then. And your name is…?”
    “I am Lady Alexandra Monroe, honored to make your acquaintance. Good evening, sir.”
    She curtsied again, made another attempt to return to the ballroom, but he stopped her again—this time with a gloved fingertip upon the bare skin of her upper arm, just below her puffed sleeve, which caused a flash of heat to rush from the point of contact straight down to her toes.
    His blue eyes narrowed. “Lady Alexandra … Are you the daughter of the Duke of St. George?”
    So he knew of her.
    “Yes, but not the current duke. My father died six years ago.”
    Though my real father was put to death by greedy insurgents before I was born.
    “Ah, yes.” He lowered his hand to his side and removed his gloves. “I have heard of you. You are quite notorious in fact. They say you have been living in Wales