The sweet scent of freshly cut grass and late summer rose blooms tickle my nose as I shoot across the stretch of lawn that separates the training facility from the castle’s front entrance.

Under normal circumstances, I’d appreciate such things, but today even that requires more effort than I have to give. My muscles are seizing up.

Each step I take sends tiny quivers of pain through my entire body, each one a silent reminder I can’t ignore that I’m not nearly as young as I once was. I’ve never been as aware of time’s steady march as I am now.

I spent the day training and sparring with Yuri Iles, a boy whose entire family moved to the capital when Yuri was just nine years old so he could train with the great Carlos Mandolay.

I’ve watched Yuri grow up and trained with him countless times, but this is the first time that I realized that not only is he very, very good, but he’s old enough and getting strong enough to challenge even me.

I had to work to keep up with him, something I usually only need to do with Roderick.

If I’m not careful, there’s a chance Yuri will usurp me as my country’s fencing hero. Even before the thought fully forms, I square my shoulders and tighten my jaw.

Hell no, I tell myself firmly, I won’t let that happen.

Barring an injury or serious distraction, Yuri will have his chance to shine, to be a champion, but not until I’m good and ready to step down. And that’s not going to happen until I win a gold at the next Olympics.

But the first step is winning the European Fencing Masters.

And before I do that, I need to figure out what I’m going to do about this damned marriage bet.

When Roderick dared me to get married, there had seemed like plenty of time to find a willing bride, convince her to sign a pre-nup, and get married. I figured I had a whole contact list full of women who would be happy to be a princess – even if only for a limited time.

Heck, I was pretty sure I’d even enjoy being married to them for a few months.

Now, twenty-eight days later, the only thing I have is the pre-nup I convinced my lawyer to draw up. With two days to go, there’s not a bride in sight.

And it’s not like I haven’t been looking or somehow deliberately waited until the last minute, which I know is what my mother and Roderick think.

I’ve wined and dined a few women, and each time I intended to see if they’d be interested in playing at being my bride for a few months, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. Something stopped me. Like hitting a brick wall.

It just didn’t feel right.

But that doesn’t make sense. I’ve never been Mr. Right. Mr. Right Now has always been enough for me. So why the hang-up?

Still, there are two days left until I officially fail the dare, and I have a plan.

My mother’s PA, Eileen, has made it clear, even without words, that she’d be interested in helping a guy out. I would have asked her already, but there’s always been something about her that puts me on edge. I wish I could figure it out.

She’s sexy. She’s educated. She understands my family, and I think we’d have some good times together before we parted ways. Since she works for us, the press will have a great time spinning it as some fairytale love story.

I don’t know why I didn’t “propose” weeks ago.

There’s just one little problem. My mom. She adores Eileen and always says how she’s never had a better PA or how she’d get along without her.

Marriage to me, even on a temporary basis, would mean Eileen would have to step down as my mom’s PA. And to do that to my mom, especially for a sham …

I’ll never hear the end of it.

Still, I’ve never backed down from a challenge yet, and I’m not about to break my winning streak. I’ll just have to come up with a way to make it up to my mom.

Gravel crunches beneath tires. I watch a big black car that bears the royal insignia glide up to the front entrance and halt. The driver, an older man who has been transporting royal guests from the hotel to the castle since before I was born, springs from the driver’s seat with an agility that belies his age, and opens the rear door.

A short woman dressed in a well-fitted but inexpensive business pantsuit slips out. She tilts her head back and says something which makes Albert throw his head back and laugh.

After all these years, I’ve never seen him behave like that.

Albert spots me on the edge of the lawn and stiffens. He pauses a moment, obviously considering his options, before hooking a hand around his passenger’s elbow and leading her around the front of the car.

My red-blooded male mode kicks in and my eyes slide over her. Not bad. Not knock out beautiful like Eileen and the actress I like dating, but certainly not a slouch in the looks department. Dark blonde hair, nice nose, good cheek bones. A little on the short side, the top of her head might reach my collar bone if she’s wearing heels. Curvy figure.

With some different make up and better fitting clothes, she’d be the quintessential girl next door.

And yet still, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Lucas.” Albert dips his head in a respectful bow.

His passenger’s wide set, deep brown eyes stare at me for a beat longer.

“The prince himself,” she mutters in an accent I recognize as being from Boston. “Impressive.”

Okay, not the warmest of greetings. I wonder what’s put her back up. Has she heard something about me? Sure, there are some stories, but nothing too off putting to anyone who isn’t a complete prude.

Her dry tone doesn’t bring out the better aspects of my personality.

I arrange my face in my best I-am-royalty expression and return her stare.

The tip of her tongue snakes out and moistens her lips.

My cock twitches, surprising me.

She’s pretty, sure, but the girl next door thing has never been my thing. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, it’s just never gotten me excited before.

So why is my body reacting to this woman?

Her pale skin turns a becoming rose pink, and tiny beads of sweat appear on the bridge of her nose.

Our eyes clash. Hers are blue with interesting gold flecks fanning out from the irises. Very pretty. I could lose myself in eyes like that.

The thought irritates me. I let myself get swallowed up in a pair of big blue eyes once before. Never again.

“Your Royal Highness,” she mutters and twists her hands together. She lowers her head and stares at the carefully groomed gravel beneath her cheap, slightly scuffed black pumps.

I wait a beat longer but she doesn’t offer any clue as to her identity.

Alfred meets my gaze briefly and steps in. “Your Royal Highness, may I present Ms. Alexis Thane.”

Thane.

I roll the name over in my head. It sounds familiar but I can’t place it.

“She has a meeting with your mother regarding the items the Queen wishes to have appraised.”

That tiny bit of information is all my brain needs to make the connection. Alexis Thane, the consultant my mother is interested in hiring to help her donate some of the royal antiques to museums.

“My mother hired you?”

Alexis nods. She looks miserable, though I can’t fathom why. She was perfectly comfortable with Albert.

Maybe …

“Why was the baby strawberry crying?” The words tumble out of her mouth.

I gape at her, unsure of what to think, do, or say. Her words make no sense.

“Pardon?” Alfred coughs. I can’t tell if it’s to hide a smile or to cover up intense embarrassment.

“Because his parents were in a jam.”

A joke! Seriously?

This woman, in her cheap suit, who wants me to believe that she’s a competent business woman, is telling jokes, and bad ones at that.

Something is seriously wrong, and I can only think of one thing that it can possibly be.

I reach out and wrap my long fingers around her elbow and tug her up against my side. The smell of vanilla and honey, tickles my nose, tempting me to lean close. I’ve always loved the how honey smells.

I order my body to ignore the unexpected urge to lean closer and indulge in a deeper inspection of the delicious scent and focus on the task at hand.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but we’re going to see Queen Lynette and put a stop to it before it goes any further.”