The Prince's Texas Bride / The Reluctant Princess. Leanne Banks

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      “Thank you, Your High—” she started, but stopped when he sliced his hand through the air.

      “Stefan, please. Shall we sit?”

      As if on cue, three staff members immediately entered the room.

      “I chose Chateaubriand for the menu tonight,” Bridget said. “I asked the chef to choose everything else … well, aside from the chocolate mousse torte. Do you like chocolate, Eve?”

      Still self-conscious, Eve fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “Like is an understatement. I’ve been known to make dessert the main course when it’s chocolate.”

      Bridget laughed in approval. “Well, you won’t want to skip any of the courses tonight. Our newest chef is fabulous.”

      “Here, here,” Jacques said. “Much improved over food at the university.”

      Eve lifted her water glass and took a swallow. “Newest,” she echoed. “How new is he?”

      Bridget glanced at Stefan. “Three months, would you say? The employment director had to replace the former chef.”

      Hiding a grin of amusement behind her glass, Eve took another sip and met Stefan’s gaze. “Is that so?”

      He raised a dark eyebrow as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “The employment director made that decision. I had nothing to do with it.”

      “Oh, I know why he was dismissed,” Phillipa said. “He was coming to work later and later due to a drinking problem. The employment director set him up with a special rehabilitation program.”

      Stefan lifted his glass of wine, his lips twitching in amusement before he took a sip. “Eve seems to be under the misguided impression that I fire so many staff members we may as well have a revolving door for them.”

      All four Devereaux stared at her with questions in their eyes. Eve coughed as her water went down the wrong way.

      “What on earth made you think that?” Phillipa asked. “Stefan delegates almost all of the hiring to the employment director.”

      “I never said that. I—” The gleam in his eyes told her he was enjoying her discomfort far too much. Eve frowned at Stefan, rising to the challenge. She was a Texan, for Pete’s sake, and she refused to be intimidated. “How many horse managers have you gone through? How long did my predecessor last before you bumped him off?”

      Shocked silence followed, and Eve lifted her chin even as she felt herself being stared down by everyone in the room.

      Stefan’s bark of laughter broke the silence and the tension. “To Americans,” he said and lifted his glass. “You don’t take crap from anyone.”

      Stefan’s siblings gaped at her in surprise. Bridget recovered first, lifting her glass in salute. “We can learn by her example.”

      Stefan lifted his hand in disagreement. “There’s a difference between defending oneself and constantly quarreling.”

      “But, Stefan—”

      “Enough, Bridget,” he said and turned to Phillipa. “How are your studies progressing?”

      Stefan held her attention with how he conducted himself. He exhibited a magnetism that combined power, intelligence and complete masculinity. She’d never met a man who possessed such a combination. She was accustomed to sly cowboys and corporate managers with egos bigger than their paychecks.

      She studied his hands as he cut his beef and lifted his glass of wine to his lips. His fingers were long, and she remembered feeling the faintest bit of a callous in his palms when he’d shaken her hand. She’d liked that about him.

      Now, as she watched him talking to his siblings, she liked the way he focused on them instead of himself. She wondered if he kept his concerns and worries from his siblings. She wondered if he’d protected them a bit too much.

      “If everything works out, I may do an exchange course in Italy this summer. Florence,” Jacques said with a half grin. “My advisers say I’m spending enough time on soccer and they want me to be well-rounded.”

      “Florence,” Bridget muttered and gave a low, barely audible growl. She cleared her throat. “Speaking of art, Eve and I were talking just a couple of weeks ago about the idea of building a children’s art museum in Chantaine.”

      Eve cringed at being dragged into Bridget’s power struggle with Stefan.

      “Bridget, you know the agreement about our family dinners,” Stefan said with a sigh. “No discussion about financial proposals or arguments about politics. This is a time for us to be family.”

      “Well, it’s hard for me to be family when all I do is work, work, work,” she said. “Have you noticed that you haven’t asked me anything about my personal life? Why?” she demanded. “Because I have no personal life. If I can’t have a personal life, then I’d like to have a sense of satisfaction. Even Eve said being happy in your job is making sure you have a passion for what you’re doing.”

      Eve felt Stefan’s hard glare. She felt stuck in the middle of a place she absolutely didn’t want to be. Lifting her glass of wine, she took a sip and latched onto the first thing that came to her mind. “Anyone here know how to play the game Chicken Scratch?”

       Chapter Two

      With the exception of Stefan, it had been like taking candy from a baby. Stefan had actually won the third game. Eve spread out her hands to collect the dominos. “Well, this has been fun, but I need to visit the barn one more time tonight.”

      “No,” Jacques said. “I was just getting used to it.” “Me, too,” Bridget said. “I almost won the second game.”

      “Afraid you’ll lose again?” Stefan challenged. Her stomach did a crazy tumble at the expression on his face. “Not at all,” she said. “I really do need to visit the barn again. If you liked the game, I’ll leave my dominoes here so you can practice.”

      “Please do,” Phillipa murmured. “We need it.” Eve smiled at the brainy princess determined to master the game. “If we play again, I bet all of you will beat the pants off of me.”

      “I’d like to see that,” Jacques said with a devilish look in his eyes.

      “Jacques,” Stefan said with a frown. “Ms. Jackson is our guest while at dinner. She deserves our respect.”

      “Exactly,” Eve agreed. “Your elders always deserve your respect.”

      Jacques laughed. “If you’re my elder …“

      “Jacques,” Stefan said again, this time a touch of amusement slid into his tone as he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

      “Thank you all again for everything. Joining you for dinner was an—honor,” she said and smiled. “Good night and sweet dreams,” she said, turning to leave.

      “Sweet dreams?” Phillipa echoed.

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