Читать книгу The Prince's Cowgirl Bride - Brenda Harlen, Brenda Harlen - Страница 6

“Does it give you ideas?”

Prince Marcus Santiago of Tesoro del Mar glanced down at his dance partner and found her smiling up at him with big blue eyes filled with promises she was far too young to be making. He’d been holding her at a careful distance, not wanting to give her any encouragement or the press any reason to speculate that he was interested in more than waltzing with a guest at his brother’s wedding, but clearly she hadn’t taken the hint.

“No.” His answer was succinct and unequivocal.

“I’ll bet if you met the right woman you’d change your mind.”

“Maybe if I met her at the right time,” he conceded, though he sincerely doubted it. “But I’ve got to finish university before I even start thinking about settling down.”

She pouted prettily. “Are you really going back to Harvard next week?”

“Only because the university has this annoying expectation that a student attend classes and write exams in order to earn a degree.”

She laughed prettily. “But you’re not really going to be a lawyer.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Of course not. You’re a prince.”

“The two titles aren’t mutually exclusive,” he said dryly.

Her eyelashes fluttered. “I only meant that you don’t need to work.”

He couldn’t prevent the smile that curved his lips. Clearly this girl had no idea what it meant to be a royal. The truth was, he didn’t know anyone who worked harder or longer than his brother Rowan. As the youngest, Marcus didn’t bear the same burden of responsibilities, but he wasn’t exactly given a free ride, either.

She shifted closer to him, lowered her voice. “If you must go away, maybe we could go somewhere to share a private goodbye.”

He was relieved to note that the song was winding down to a finish. He touched his lips briefly to the back of her hand and stepped back. “Right now, I must speak with my brother.”

Disappointment clouded her eyes as she dropped into a curtsy. “Of course, Your Highness. Maybe later?”

He didn’t bother to respond.

That was exactly why Marcus wasn’t a big fan of weddings. It wasn’t so much that he was opposed to the institution of marriage—not for other people, anyway. No, what he disliked was the effect that they seemed to have on the single females in attendance. It was as if they suddenly couldn’t see anything but wedding gowns and bouquets of flowers and any unmarried man who happened in their path as a potential candidate for the altar. No thank you—no way.

There were just too many women out there—fun women, smart women, beautiful women—to want to commit to a single one. If he ever met a woman who was all of those things, he might reconsider his attitude toward matrimony, but he was doubtful.

He snagged a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and carried it to the terrace where he’d seen his brother Eric disappear. He found him in the shadows, nursing a drink of his own.

“Hiding out?” Marcus asked him.

Eric grinned. “And not ashamed to admit it.”

He leaned back against the stone balustrade and crossed his feet at the ankles. “So how many times have you been asked if Rowan’s wedding has given you ideas about getting married?”

“I lost count.”

Marcus nodded and sipped his champagne, enjoying the stolen moment of quiet camaraderie with his brother.

Then Eric broke the silence by saying, “I wouldn’t say I’ve never thought of it, though.”

Marcus nearly choked. “Marriage?”

His brother nodded. “Not with respect to any particular woman, but I’ve wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to have what Julian had with Catherine, or what Rowan has found with Lara.”

“Mi Dios—don’t let anyone overhear you saying that or you’ll have a ring on your finger before you have a chance to recover from this temporary bout of insanity.”

Eric’s lips curved. “Do you really think it’s crazy? Crazier than being alone?”

“Maybe you have been at sea too long.”

“And that is exactly why I won’t ever have what our brother has. Because I can’t imagine ever leaving the navy any more than I could imagine asking someone to share my life when I’m at sea more than I’m home.”

“You could ask,” Marcus argued. “And not have any trouble finding someone who believes becoming a princess is more than adequate compensation for an absent husband.”

Eric shook his head. “You’re too cynical.”

“Realistic. Isn’t that why we all have passports with our mother’s maiden name—so we can occasionally escape the attention of being royal?”

“I didn’t think you minded the attention.”

He couldn’t blame his brother for thinking that because there had been a time when it was true, when he’d not only not minded the attention but had courted it. Lately, however, he’d just wanted to get away from it all. To shake free of the media spotlight and everyone else’s expectations and figure out what he really wanted. Because the truth was, he still didn’t have a clue. For too long, he’d been moving from one thing to the next, from school to school, earning degree upon degree, searching for the one thing that really seemed to fit.

Or maybe Eric was right. Maybe it wasn’t something so much as someone that he’d been searching for.

He almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of that thought.

Tonight, the only thing he was searching for was a good time. He tossed back the rest of his champagne and went to find it.