Not ever in her life before.
“Sydney …” His voice in her ear. His breath against her skin. “Sydney …”
She sighed, turned her head away, so luxuriously comfortable, only wanting to sleep a little more.
“Sydney …” He nuzzled her temple, caught the curling strands of hair there between his lips, gave them a light, teasing tug.
She kept her eyes stubbornly shut, grumbled, “I was sleeping …”
His mouth on her cheek. Warm. Tempting. His words against her skin. “But you have to wake up now.”
Wake up. Of course. She knew he was right. She turned her head to him, opened her eyes, asked him groggily, “What time is it?”
“After three.” He was on his side, braced up on an elbow, the sheet down around his lean waist, clinging like an adoring lover to the hard curve of his left hip.
With a low groan, she sat up, raked her hair back off her forehead, stretched and yawned. Then she let her arms drop to the sheets. “Ugh. You’re right. I do have to get home.” She started to push back the covers.
He caught her hand. “Wait.”
She smiled at him, searched his wonderful face. “What?”
“Sydney …” His mouth was softer than ever and his eyes gleamed and he looked so young right then. Young and hopeful and … nervous.
He did. He actually looked nervous. Prince Rule of Montedoro. Nervous. How could that be? He really wasn’t the nervous type.
“Rule?” She laid her palm against his beard-roughened cheek. “Are you okay?”
He took her wrist, turned his head until her hand covered those soft lips of his. And he kissed her, the most tender, sweetest kiss, right in the heart of her palm, the way he had done the night before when he asked her if she would prefer him to be cruel.
A shiver went through her, a premonition of …
What? She had no idea. And already the strange, anxious feeling had passed.
There was only his mouth, so soft against her palm. Only the beauty of the night they had shared, only the wonder that he was here with her and he was looking at her like she hung the moon, as though she ruled the stars.
He lowered her hand so it no longer covered his lips. And then, raising his other hand, he put something in her palm, after which he closed her fingers tenderly over it.
And then he said the impossible, incredible, this-must-be-a-dream-and-can’t-really-be-happening words, “Marry me, Sydney. Be my bride.”
Chapter Six
Still trying to believe what she thought he’d just said, Sydney uncurled her fingers and stared down in what could only be called shock and awe at the ring waiting there.
The brilliant emerald-cut diamond was huge. And so icily, perfectly beautiful. Flanking it to either side on the platinum band were two large, equally perfect baguettes.
She looked up from the amazing ring and into his dark eyes. “Just tell me …”
 
; “Anything.”
“Is this really happening?”
He laughed, low, and he brushed the hair at her temple with a tender hand. “Yes, my darling. It’s really happening. I know it’s crazy. I know it’s fast. But I don’t care about any of that. In my heart, I knew the moment I saw you. And every moment since then has only made me more certain. Until there is nothing left. Nothing but absolute certainty that you are the woman for me.”
“But you … I … We can’t just—”
“Yes. We can. Today. We can fly to Las Vegas and be married today. I don’t want to wait. I want you for my wife now. I have to return to Montedoro on Tuesday. I want you and Trevor with me.”