The Rose and Thorn was tucked away on a quiet-ish street not far from the palace. It was nothing fancy on the outside. But inside, it was adorable. Well dressed locals crowded the bar and tables, chatting over pints of beer.

I loved it.

Kit wore a baseball hat—navy blue, no logo. I’d tucked my hair into a winter hat. Kit had laughed at the pink pom-pom on top. If we’d been recognized, I didn’t know it. No one paid us any mind as we stood at the bar and ordered our pints. Local ale for him, stout for me. I liked the bitter stuff best.

I had a twenty pound note in my hand, ready to go. But like the gentleman that he was, Kit refused to let me pay.

“I subjected you to a video of me dancing in a kilt.” He offered me my glass. “Buying you a pint is the least I can do.”

I tilted my head. “But I was the one who made the armless knight comparison. That wasn’t exactly nice.”

“Me. Dancing. In a kilt.” His blue eyes were laughing. “I think I win this one, Em.”

Em. I loved it when he called me that. I didn’t want to smile. Smiling with Kit only made me want him more. But I found myself smiling anyway, because he was being just so freaking cute.

“All right,” I said, reaching for the glass. “As long as you let me get the next round.”

He cocked a teasing brow, pulling back the pint. “Next round? That’s awfully presumptuous of you, Miss Kilpatrick.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Weird. I got the feeling that we were being watched. I looked over Kit’s shoulder and scanned the crowd. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Huh.

I turned back to Kit. “That’s rich, coming from the self-proclaimed handsomest man in the room.”

Now Kit was smiling, too. “Fair point. Here you are then.”

Our fingers brushed as I took the pint. Awareness bolted through me. My body was alive. Awake with desire. Kit stood close—close enough to smell his aftershave. It bowled me over. I wavered on my feet.

No. I did not want to feel this. I’d been more disappointed than I’d wanted to admit when Kit had abruptly ended our text conversation the other night. It scared me. Scared me enough that I’d resolved to keep my distance going forward. I couldn’t go through another heartbreak again. I couldn’t do the disappointment and the depression again. And that’s exactly where Kit and I were heading. Heartbreak.

But I couldn’t resist him. I was trying. Not as hard as I probably should’ve been. But I was still trying. He was just making it so freaking difficult.

I nearly dropped my pint when someone draped an arm across my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug.

“Well look who it is!” Rob said, planting kisses on both my cheeks. “Hello, love. So happy to see you. We’ve missed you, you know.”

Jack appeared at his elbow, an empty pint glass in one hand and an empty shot glass in the other. “We missed you terribly.”

“What a delightful little hat you’ve got,” Rob said, giving my pom-pom a quick tug. “You know, it looks like—”

“Stop that right now.” Kit swatted away his hands. I was surprised to see him biting back a grin. He was usually so…growly with his brothers. But today he was grinning.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.

“This was our favorite pub first,” Jack explained.

“Kit’s not nearly cool enough for this place,” Rob said, aiming a grin at his older brother. “We had to introduce him to it.”

Kit’s grin widened. “You lot are the worst liars. Honestly.”

The four of us set up camp at a high top table near the window. We talked about everything and nothing. Soccer (football to them), our schedules, stories about their foolish youths. When Rob and Jack told a story about the time Kit’s parents found a bottle of Wild Turkey in his underwear drawer, I laughed so hard I almost cried.

I wasn’t really paying attention when a guy came to stand a foot or two from our table. But when my eyes caught on the man’s tall, lanky frame, his thinning mop of brown hair, my heart literally stopped beating.

It couldn’t be. No. No way. I was imagining things. He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

He turned. The world seemed to crash down around me. Icicles of panic stabbed at my gut. I froze.

This was a nightmare—

“Emily,” Luke said, taking his hands out of his pockets as he approached our table. “Hi.”

My skin tightened. My heart took off at a sprint.

Hi. Like we were just two old friends running into each other at a bar.

Rage choked me. A bit of fear, too. The nerve of this guy. Had he been stalking me? What the hell was he doing in London? Didn’t he have a very pregnant wife at home?

“Luke. What are you doing here?” The words came out strangled. I was horrified to see my vision blurring with tears.

So angry. I was so, so angry.

“Luke?” Kit’s head whipped around. A muscle in his jaw ticked. He set down his beer and moved between Luke and me. Jack stepped forward; he, Rob, and Kit were now shoulder to shoulder, surrounding me in an especially handsome wall.

Luke held up his hands. “Look, I just want to talk with my wife—”

“Ex-wife,” I spat over Kit’s shoulder. “Luke, please leave.”

Kit glowered at Luke. “I suggest you listen to the lady. Turn around and go.”

Ignoring him, Luke straightened to look at me over the boys.

“Five minutes, Em. That’s all I ask.”

“No.” I scoffed. “What the hell is wrong with you? How did you find me?”

Luke rolled his tongue between his lips. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“I asked around. Did some Googling.” He jerked his chin at Kit. “Found out they hang out here.”

The breath left my lungs in a whoosh. “You’re insane.”

“You’re the one who’s insane.” His words were edged with a hint of poison. A hint of that nastiness I knew so well. “You meet this guy and then six months later you’re engaged? Look, as soon as I heard, I hopped on the first flight to London. Someone needs to tell you to slow down. I’m just looking out for you.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Looking out for me? Are you serious?”

People had started to stare. Kit didn’t seem to notice, though. He stepped forward. “It’s time you got going.”

“Listen, friend, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, pal.”

Kit and Luke were inches apart now. Kit was bigger than Luke in every possible way. Still, Luke did not back down.

Luke looked at me. “What about your precious little business? You wouldn’t give it up for me, but you’ll do it for him? Really, Emily?”

I’d dreamed about this moment for years. Luke was jealous. Of me. For the first time, I had the upper hand. But I didn’t relish the moment as much as I thought I would. The triumph I thought I’d feel wasn’t there. I just wanted Luke to leave before someone caught Kit punching his lights out on a camera phone.

I glanced around. It appeared people were too caught up in the brewing drama to remember to film it. At least for now.

“I guess you finally saw what a joke EP Designs was,” Luke continued. His face was pink. I could tell he was losing grip on his temper. “Dabbling in paint samples. Posting on that idiotic blog. Being a decorator isn’t a real job.”

I saw red. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but Kit beat me to it.

“What did you say?” His voice was deadly calm as he stared down at Luke.

Luke got in his face. “You heard me. It’s actually perfect, because she doesn’t have to give up all that much to become your wife—”

“Luke, you have no right,” I said. “I don’t care what you say or what you think. This is my life, and you have no say in it.” I noticed the pub around us had gone silent.

“Keep telling yourself that, Em.”

“Keep calling her that, Luke, and we’re going to have a problem,” Kit said, reaching behind him to give me a gentle nudge backward. “Now. I believe you owe Emily here an apology. She is smarter and more ambitious and more successful than your sorry arse ever has a hope to be. She built her business all on her own. Apologize, you sorry little dickweed, or so help me God I’ll break your fucking nose.”

Kit’s words had a brutal, cutting edge to them as they fell one after the other out of his mouth. I’d never seen him so angry or worked up.

I’d never been so passionately defended. I wasn’t quite sure what to do—smile? Swoon? Because God damn, was Kit saying some swoon worthy stuff right now. I never doubted that he respected my work; I mean, he helped me bring EP Designs back from the dead. But to hear him praise my ambition and my grit outright—things Luke told me I should be ashamed of—made me weak in the knees.

Kit was defending me. He didn’t have to. He could just tell Luke to go fuck himself and walk away. But Kit chose to stay and fight instead.

This handsome, steadfast prince was fighting for me. It was sexy. Thrilling. And sad, because no matter how sexy and thrilling one fight was, I’d never win the war. Kit and I could not be together.

He made my heart soar. But in the end, he’d break it, too.

Luke held up his hands. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to cause a scene.” He glanced over Kit’s shoulder at me. “I hope you’ll accept my apologies.”

I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

“Now get the hell out of here,” Kit said, crossing his arms.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Luke muttered, backing away. “That bitch is not worth the energy anyway—”

It happened so quickly it was all a blur. Kit’s fist arced through the air, landing with a dull smack on the side of Luke’s face. He went down, and Kit went down with him, pummeling him on the other side of his face. Jack moved to stand in front of me and Rob, moving us back from the brawl that had broken out at our feet. The guys were all shouting. Somewhere in the pub a girl screamed.

I stood on my tiptoes to see Rob hauling Kit to his feet. His sweater was askew and an errant lock of hair hung down on his forehead. The hat was long gone. He was breathing hard.

Luke was still on the ground, slowly rolling around in agony. He held his nose in his hands; blood leaked through his fingers and splattered across his shirt.

“My nose! You broke my nose!” he screamed.

Rob was still holding Kit by the arms. “I warned you. You ever insult my fiancée again, and I’ll break more than that, you hear me?” When Luke didn’t reply, Kit asked again. This time he was shouting. “Do you fucking hear me you fucking piece of shit?”

“I hear you,” Luke moaned.

“Good.” Rob let Kit go, and Kit straightened his sweater. “Someone get him out of here, now.”

Rob and Jack picked him up and literally tossed him out the door. It had gotten quiet again. I felt all the eyes in the room on us. I quickly scanned the crowd, looking for phones or cameras. Still nothing that I could see.

Thank God.

Kit, ignoring all the attention we were getting, made a beeline for me. The breath left my lungs when he put his hands on my face. His touch was warm, urgent. He searched my eyes, moving close enough that our noses almost touched.

“You all right, Em?”

I nodded. Swallowed. My lips tingled with awareness. “Yeah. I’m okay. Are you?”

He grinned, shaking out his hand. He flexed his fingers. “Hand hurts a bit.”

“I think you really did break his nose.”

Kit smiled, and the skin around his eyes crinkled in genuine pleasure. “I did. And bloody hell, did it feel good. Only been waiting ten years to do it.” He swiped his thumb across my cheek. The gesture was so tender I wanted to look away. But I couldn’t. He held me captive in his hands, and for the first time, I didn’t resist. “I’m sorry he said that rubbish about you.”

I swallowed. “It’s all right. People have said worse things.”

“Well, they won’t be saying them anymore. Not when you’re with me.”

My knees wobbled. Kit was relentless. Relentlessly wonderful. And it was killing me.

Wiping his hands, Rob drew to a sudden stop in front of Kit. “What the devil’s wrong with you?”

Kit furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling.”

“And you never smile,” Jack explained, cracking his knuckles.

“I do too smile.”

“No you don’t,” they replied in unison.

Rob winked at me. “I liked Emily before, but now I think I love her. First she’s got you punching blokes in pubs, then she’s got you smiling like a tit. I don’t know what magic she’s worked on you, old chap, but I like it. I like it a lot.”