Charming the Prince

by Laura Wright

• ISBN13: 9780373764921
• ISBN10: 0373764928
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2003-02-01
• Publisher: Silhouette

Excerpts

Francesca Charming didn't believe in fairy tales, despite her whimsical surname. But with real-life royal cobblestones under her feet, the purple-and-gold Llandaron flag snapping crisply in the warm morning wind and the ancient fortress standing regally before her, a girl could change her mind.

The seven-story castle of white stone and polished elegance sat high on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic coastline. Rows of creamy-marble steps crept up, up, until they reached a massive wooden portcullis. Hundreds of windows peeked out at Fran through their frames of slender evergreen climbers, while on both ends of the amazing dwelling, two white towers extended their pepper-pot necks toward an azure sky.

And all around her, the scents of heather and saltwater carried on the breeze slowly lulling her from all thoughts of business, of why she'd come to -

"Welcome to Llandaron, miss."

Fran jumped at the spirited burr, whirled around. A gardener pruning a wedge of fragrant honeysuckle gave her a wink. "First time to the castle, eh? Surely takes the breath away, doesn't it?"

The magic from a moment ago vanished and reality set in. Indulging in a child's fantasy was not why Fran had come to Llandaron. She'd come to the small island nation to work - to earn the money that would finally put the wheels of a lifelong dream in motion. And Fran's dream, her one and only goal, was to open a Los Angeles-based animal-surgery facility.

Gripping her veterinary bag tightly to her side, she smiled at the gardener and said in her most professional tone, "Yes, I'm Dr. Charming. I just arrived this morning. I'm looking for the stables. Am I going the right way?"

The gardener clipped her a nod. "Just keep following the path you're on and you'll run straight into it. Make sure to ask for Charlie when you get down there. He runs things." The man turned away to tend to a young fir tree. "He'll show you round."

"Thank you." Fran turned and continued down the stone path, her traitorous gaze once again lapping up every detail she encountered.

All the books she'd read on Llandaron boasted of its "lush, wild beauty in the spring." But such a description didn't do the land justice. As she walked through a manicured garden that sloped gently toward the grand-looking stables, she took in the impossibly green lawns in the distance, small curves of hill blooming scads of tiny red flowers, and chunks of purple heather that dwelled amongst groomed shrubbery and ancient trees.

Only a hundred miles from Cornwall, England, Llandaron seemed a world away.

Gripping her black bag more tightly, Fran walked into the streamlined stables with what she hoped was an air of confidence. Horses nickered at her from their exceptionally clean stalls, and she allowed herself the time to give each a soft rub on their blazes before she marched down a lengthy hallway looking for a man called Charlie.

But when she came to the last stall, she stopped dead in her tracks. As she stared at the amazing sight before her, her knees went butter soft, and her throat desert dry as her pulse kicked and punched in her veins.

Pitchfork in hand, his bare back to her, a man was scooping up hay and tossing the tawny flakes into an adjacent stall. With no thought of what she was doing, Fran let her gaze travel from scuffed boots upward to faded jeans that encased strong, muscular thighs and, Lord almighty, one fine, fine backside. She licked her lips, her gaze progressing. He had a tapered waist and a broad, tanned back that bunched with lean muscle and glistened with sweat.

She released a soft sigh of appreciation. To her dismay, the man turned at the sound, saw her staring and grinned.

"Hello there." The brogue was native Llandaron, the words slipping from his firm, sensual lips like melted chocolate, coating her senses in a very satisfying heat.

Fran struggled to find her voice. Tongue-tied and awestruck was not her usual style around men. Aloof and impassive was what she strove for, but this six-foot god, with his thick, wavy black hair, chiseled features and thick brows positioned over deep-set Prussian-blue eyes, wasn't like any man she'd ever seen.

Her gaze dipped to his chest, dusted with hair and thickly muscled. He had what the girls in her office called a six-pack. Truly sigh worthy, she mused as she balled her hands into fists to keep them from reaching out to feel that chest, feel those muscles bunch and flex beneath her palms.

With every ounce of fortitude she possessed, she cleared her throat and adopted a confident tone. "You must be Charlie."

He leaned casually against the door frame, his steady gaze warming her blood. "I must?"

From his tone, Fran couldn't tell if his reply was a question or an answer, but she didn't press the matter. There was no way she was going to let this guy know how flustered and unsure he made her feel. "I'm Dr. Francesca Charming - Fran, actually."

Comprehension lit those magnetic eyes of his. "The veterinarian from America."

"California."

His wicked blue gaze traveled lazily over her until he paused at her mouth. "Blond hair, tanned skin, long legs and beautiful eyes. A California girl."

Her unsophisticated beige pants and blue wrinkle-free blouse suddenly felt like black, lacy, racy lingerie. She felt a blush creep into her cheeks and she willed it away. For Pete's sake, she was a city girl. She didn't blush or twitter like a blue jay in the spring. She gave guys with too much cockiness a good dressing-down - of course, all the while hoping they couldn't tell that one big wimp resided behind her self-possessed facade.

"Have you had enough of a look?" she asked, tipping her chin up a fraction. "Or would you like me to turn around?"

His gaze lifted to meet hers, his expression littered with amusement. "I think I should be asking you the same thing."

She swallowed thickly. True enough.

A smile tugged at his lips. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

He drew a circle in the air with one long tapered finger. "You did make the offer, Dr. Charming. And I think it's only fair you show me yours after you had such a long look at mine."

Her eyes went wide. "I did no such thing! And ... well, there is no way I'm going to turn ... I was just ... that wasn't meant as a -"

He grinned. "Maybe some other time, then."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Charming the Prince by Laura Wright Copyright © 2003 by Laura Wright
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.