Page 104 of The Thing About My Prince

Flora’s taking the last sip of her tea when she’s summoned by my mother.

At the same time, my phone buzzes in my sporran. Which is not an unpleasant experience.

It’s even less unpleasant when I discover it’s a text from Lexi asking where I am. Just the sight of her name on my phone accelerates my pulse.

ME

The kitchen. Are you ready? I’ll come to you.

LEXI

On my way down.

My heart skips as I rush out of the kitchen and back toward the entrance hall. I want to get up those stairs before she comes down, to see her in private, not surrounded by all the people and the bustling activity.

I round the bottom of the stairs and take them two at a time. I’ve made it to the first landing and turn right toward the room where she was getting ready, only to find her standing at the top of the next flight.

When people say something takes their breath away, I’ve never understood what that means. How can just seeing something squeeze all the air from your lungs?

Well, now I know.

I grip the banister to steady myself.

“Look at you” is all I can manage as I stare up at the vision of Lexi wearing a burgundy dress that nips in at her waist and flares out, stopping at her knees. The V-neck is gathered on either side to perfectly cradle the curves of her breasts. Sitting between them, at the base of the V, is a flower made from the same fabric as the dress, and hanging down toward it is a necklace sparkling with diamonds.

Her legs look phenomenal in heels that emphasize the curves of her calves. Her dark hair is sleek and glossy, with soft curls on the ends, her face aglow with understated makeup that lets her natural beauty shine through.

“And look at you.” She points at me from my head to myfeet. “Guess I hadn’t processed that you’d be wearing a kilt and all the…fixings.”

I skip up the stairs toward her and rest my hands on her waist. “You are fucking beautiful.”

“That’s nice of you, but this doesn’t feel very me. I couldn’t exactly chase a reluctant interviewee in these shoes.”

“No interviews today. No work. Just you and me and a family wedding. But I promise if you chase me, I’ll let you catch me.”

When I move in to kiss her, she bends away from me, leaning into the arm I slip around her back.

“Don’t even think about kissing me or you’ll ruin all the makeup artist’s hard work.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Do you have any idea how long it takes them to do all this?” She circles her finger around her face. “And the hair? How do people who do this all the time fit it in?”

“Probably because getting ready for an evening is literally their job for the day.”

“Well, that’s a job I never want.”

And there we have it, yet another reason she’d never want to be part of the family I come with as a package deal, and therefore the reason she will never want to be with me.

“You’re happy with the shirt I picked then?” She tugs at the winged collar.

I shrug. “To me, a white shirt is a white shirt is a white shirt.”

“And to me, this is damn hot.” She bends her knees to duck her hand under the hem of my kilt. “Now I see why it’s survived centuries as the national dress.”

Her eyes latch onto mine as she runs her fingers up my outer thigh, sparks flying from them like a lightning bolt to my cock, which instantly stiffens.

“Fuck, Lexi. If you carry on like that, I’m going to have to drag you to our room for a quickie before the ceremony.”

When her fingers reach the hem of my boxer briefs, she slips the tips under the thick draft-excluding edge.

“Hair and makeup, remember?” she teases. “No messing them up.”