Chapter 15
Was she dreaming?
Max had told her he loved her. Twice. Now he was down on one knee proposing marriage to her.
This was crazy. Wasn’t it?
Even if it was crazy, it was the kind of love-crazy she’d always witnessed in her family, the kind she’d always longed for but never believed possible.
His handsome features were taut with earnestness, and his eyes were bright and filled with hope.
They’d just shared an amazing kiss—the kind of kiss she would never forget, not even if she lived a hundred years. It was a kiss that she hadn’t wanted to end, one that had whisked her off her feet and deposited her on the clouds so that she’d been floating in pure bliss.
His lips . . . his mouth . . .
Her gaze dropped to his lips and mouth—so firm, so determined, so sensual. He was an amazing kisser, and she wanted to kiss him again right now.
In fact, she wanted to answer his proposal the same way she’d answered his declaration of love—with a kiss. Was it a way to avoid responding? Or was it her way of saying yes? She wasn’t quite sure.
But he was waiting for a real answer this time, and she had to say something. “Max, I want to say yes . . . because I think I’m falling in love with you too . . .”
He expelled a tight breath at the same time as a smile broke free—one of his genuine smiles that made his face irresistibly charming.
“But . . .” she quickly continued, “I don’t want to rush things.”
“And I do not wish to pressure you.” He caressed her hand. “You do not need to answer me now about marriage. I just want you to know I am serious about us and covet having a future together.”
She could see the truth of his statement in his eyes. He wasn’t saying this to get something from her or to lead her on. He truly wanted to be with her.
Deep inside, she knew she wanted to be with him too. Even though their predicament was dangerous, she was relishing every extra moment they’d been given. Tomorrow would come too soon, and the prospect of his leaving was only getting harder to think about.
How had she fallen for him this quickly? How was it possible she was in love with him? Because now that she’d confessed her love for him aloud, she realized she felt that love deep inside, all the way to her bones.
Maybe she was experiencing the McQuaid legacy of love after all.
She wasn’t sure, but she did know she wanted to talk more before agreeing to marry him. She supposed she was too much of a planner, too detail-oriented, too calculating to simply throw away all caution and agree to marry him without any discussion on how it would all work.
She patted the spot beside her. “Can we discuss this more? There are so many logistics we need to think about.”
He rose and then lowered himself onto the couch, keeping several inches between them—several inches too much.
Now that they’d kissed and declared their love and talked about marriage, she wanted to be close to him, to curl up against him and have him hold her.
She’d kept up her guard, hadn’t let herself dream of having more with him, had tried to remain realistic about them.
But now . . . she couldn’t stop her heart from wanting to have everything.
Her pulse was beating hard with a need for him that had been unleashed and could no longer be contained.
“You can sit closer and hold me,” she whispered.
He hesitated.
“I promise I’ll behave,” she teased as she walked two fingers up his arm in a pretend enticement.
“I am more concerned about my own ability to behave than yours.” He slanted a sideways look at her—a short one, but long enough for her to see the heat in his gaze and to know her presence affected him.
She dropped her fingers from his arm and reached for his hand instead. As her fingers wound around his, he flipped his hand over and intertwined their fingers securely, resting their hands on the couch in the space that separated them.
They were both quiet. She was relishing his touch, the strength of his hold, the possessive curl of his fingers. Was she really sitting next to him, holding his hand? A thrill whispered through her—a thrill that made her almost lightheaded.
After the breakup with Ryan and the past year of feeling rejected, she had never imagined she would fall in love this way.
“A marriage to a prince such as myself would come with challenges,” he said after a moment. “I would wish to spare you as many of those challenges as possible, but I am afraid some are unavoidable.”
“I’m not afraid of challenges.”
He gave her a small smile. “That is true. You are a strong woman.”
“Be honest with me, Max.” Not that his honesty would change her feelings for him. But she did need to know what she might be getting herself into if she agreed to marry him. “What will be some of the hardest parts about being your wife?”
“Being constantly in the spotlight and having the paparazzi interested and prying into your personal life.”
She’d witnessed her brother Brock going through all of that. It hadn’t always been easy for him, especially when unfair and untrue rumors circulated about him. But he’d learned how to handle the pressure. “I’m not worried about the spotlight or paparazzi.”
“It can be difficult and daunting during those times we wish for privacy and instead our secrets are made public.”
“Like when you broke up with Sarah?”
“Yes. The media will turn everything into a sensationalized story. As a result, it puts a great deal of pressure upon everyone.”
“I’m sorry that you were feeling so much pressure.” She could only imagine that had been part of the pressure he’d been trying to avoid when he’d arrived at the ranch. She brushed her fingers over his. “What else will be hard about being your wife?”
“My wife will also have certain responsibilities, public appearances, and traditions and customs to uphold.”
“Like what?”
They settled into the sofa, and he shared about what she would experience as a princess married to him and then what she could expect if she became queen someday.
The duties sounded a lot like what she was already doing as an event manager, except on a larger scale in helping to coordinate parties and events for the royal household, attending charities and benefits, representing the family’s interests, and caring about the people of the nation.
Max also talked about growing up as a prince.
Although he’d already told her about his family and his brothers, this time he opened up about the trials of being the heir apparent.
He was honest about the difficulties as well as the benefits of his life, and he didn’t gloss over the many challenges he would face in the years to come in a changing and sometimes volatile world.
Throughout their discussion, it was easy to see how seriously he took his role, how passionate he was about his position, and how he’d prepared for years to take over his father’s duties.
He would need to shoulder a heavy load; the responsibilities would be great and the pressure immense.
But Max had proven to be a strong and determined man, and she had no doubt he would handle everything well.
She was full of questions about what his life was really like, where he lived, and what his duties as prince were.
She admitted she’d googled him to find out more information and had found his picture with more women than she could count.
He confessed to having a wild period of his life when he was at the university and for a while after that.
Although she was a little jealous of all the women he’d known, he assured her that none of them had mattered, that he’d never felt for them anything like what he felt for her.
The relationships had been shallow and had lacked substance compared to the one with her, which was mature and deep and real.
At some point late in the night, Max got up to add more wood to the stove while the storm continued to howl through the cracks and rattle the windows and roof.
She had a feeling things were only getting worse with the storm rather than better, but she tried not to worry about it.
Instead, she soaked in every minute of holding Max’s hand beside him on the couch and talking about everything.
The second time Max got up, dawn was only an hour or two away, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. When Max sat back down, she curled up next to him, put the blanket over both of them, then laid her head on his shoulder. Within seconds, she was asleep.
She wasn’t sure how long she drifted off.
When she stirred later, she realized that somehow she and Max had ended up lying beside each other.
He had his back against the cushions, and she had her back against him, and both of their heads were on the same couch pillow.
His arms surrounded her and held her securely, his hands together across her stomach.
The blanket covered mostly her, but her warmth came from him and his encompassing hold.
She didn’t want to wake up, wanted to go back to sleep this way and never have to get up from the couch again, so that she could lie in his arms forever.
Could she really allow herself to dream about waking up with him every morning? Was that really a possibility? Max had seemed to think so. He’d made it clear she was special and that he’d never loved or wanted to marry a woman the way he did her.
She released a contented sigh.
“Are you awake, darling?” came his whisper against her hair.
“No. I’m asleep and plan to stay that way for a while.”
He chuckled softly.
She loved the rumble against her back, the strength of his arms around her, and the pressure of his long legs against hers. She shifted backward and snuggled into him even more.
At the movement, his arms tightened, and he bent and pressed a kiss to her head, a long and hard one that contained all of the passion he was obviously holding back.