Royal Distraction by Lucy McConnell (love story novels in english TXT) 📗

Nothing happened. Well, nothing except the door swinging open without even a squeak to reveal an intricate garden with a brick pathway. There were beautiful flower beds with dark soil and spots of color, sections of recently trimmed grass, and the sound of water bubbling somewhere close.

Eyeing her mystery man, Nyssa realized what a mystery he truly was despite the sense of belonging she’d felt in his arms. She’d felt as if she fit against him like two halves of a clamshell. Yet, she couldn’t forget the sense that he wasn’t exactly safe. Not that she feared him, because she didn’t, but she wasn’t ready to throw caution to the wind. “How’d you do that?”

He handed her the metal tube. It sat heavy and cold in her palm. She examined it for buttons and blinking lights and found none. It was … boring.

“It’s a magnet,” he explained.

“And you carry this with you because …?”

He gently lifted it out of her hand, as if it were made of gold instead of steel. “This is a cow magnet. Farmers slide them down a cow’s throat to prevent Hardware Disease.”

She tipped her head. “What is that?”

He smiled easily. “Cows eat everything when they graze—even screws and nails and such. The magnet collects all that and prevents it from becoming lodged where it would cause health concerns for the cow.”

That was all very interesting … “But why do you have it?”

He slipped the magnet into his pocket. “I come from a long line of dairy farmers.”

“You are a cowboy?” She’d seen several pictures depicting the life of American cowboys and had read Zane Grey as part of her high school curriculum. The impression she had was that cowboys wore brown clothing, were often dusty, and lived and died by the herd. They were also a rough breed who shot first and asked questions later and were loyal to their towns and their women.

He grimaced. “I’m a farmer.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t nearly as exciting as the image of him with one of those wide-brimmed hats. A black one. He would have a black cowboy hat that would come low over his face, his blue eyes standing out in contrast to the shadow it cast. Her stomach dolphin-flipped and her knees threatened to give way.

He stepped over the threshold and held out his hand. “Are you coming?”

Pulling slightly away, she bit her lip, uncertain of her path. Her heart wanted to trust him with her life, but her head was telling her to play it safe. Like at home, where she stayed behind the stone walls. Safe at home.

His hand slowly lowered. Closing the distance between them, he spoke confidently and without hurry. “I joined the navy at twenty. I don’t know how much you know about SEAL training, but it’s brutal. There were times I missed the five a.m. milkings, the sound of the herd as they came into the barn, the smell of oats and hay cubes in the feeders. I carried the magnet every day because it was a piece of home and it became a part of me—it reminds me of who I am at my center. Have you ever had anything like that?”

Her thoughts went to her tiara. Mother wanted her to wear it to remind herself and others that she was a princess—and she’d left it behind on purpose. A flash of guilt tripped her tongue. However, if she had worn her tiara, that was all she would be to everyone in the room. A head that wore a crown, not someone to confide in as he had.

She couldn’t. Shouldn’t. She shouldn’t leave without telling her security. Kingston had already allowed her the run of the room without a shadow. If she left now, he’d spend the rest of her trip within arm’s reach.

Then again, she’d met every guest at the door and worked the room like a good hostess. She hadn’t danced with anyone, but if Marius found her, there would be no dancing at all. She’d done her duty and done it well, yet her family had sent Marius to keep an eye on her—a fact that still rubbed like sand inside a wet bathing suit. If they thought Marius could do such a good job, she’d leave him to it. All that was left of the evening was polite goodbyes and stuffy thank-yous anyway. The air became thick and difficult to breathe—as if the weight of her responsibilities smothered her very breath. She needed a few minutes away from being princess, and this handsome gentleman was offering just that.

The truth of his words was evident in his eyes. Nyssa searched them for even a slight hesitation, a glimmer of jeopardy, and found them open and honest. Never had she read someone so easily. His sincerity was raw and vulnerable.

“I swear there is a draft,” said an older woman, her high-pitched voice carrying over the music and fronds. “Excuse me, sir, could you see if there’s an open window?”

“I’ll have a look,” came the reply from a man Nyssa couldn’t see. The palm fronds shook as he pushed towards them.

“It’s now or never.” Her new friend jumped out the door. “You coming?” he asked over his shoulder.

A pair of shiny black shoes approached, the only part of the intruder she could see, and they were getting closer.

She could go back to the party, make the rounds, discuss strikes and embargos, avoid the prince, and have a generally horrible evening.

“I’m coming.” Hiking her dress up to her knees, she jitterbugged her way out the door on her tiptoes. He quickly pulled her against the building, just to the right of the door, his body flush with hers, protecting her from sight. Placing a finger over her lips, his eyes asked her to keep quiet. Her heart pounded fiercely against her ribs. For the first time that night, she was thankful the dress was so tight for it was the only thing keeping her together.

For just a moment, she wondered