“Miss!” a voice yells over the sound of the rain. “Move!”
Before I can see where the voice came from, a huge moving lorry barrels towards me. I gasp as I realise he’s not going to avoid the potholes filled with mud and water.
He’s going to go right through them.
I try to jump back, but it’s too late. The lorry driver speeds right over the hole, the giant tyre kicking up a massive spray of mud and water, which cascades over the right side of my body like a wave.
“Argh!” I cry. The water is cold, and the ferocity of the splash startles me. My umbrella turns inside out, and the skies above pour down on me, and then the unthinkable happens.
I lose my grip on the box.
It drops down towards the ground, and I shriek as I try to grab it before it falls to the earth. Everything is in slow motion, but to my utter disbelief, I see a hand reach out and snatch it right before it is about to land in a puddle.
I gasp. A man is bent over my box, holding it firmly within his grip. He lifts his head to look at me.
And with a jolt, I find myself looking into the deep-blue eyes of none other than the Prince of Wales.
Chapter Two
What’s a Side of Mud?
I stare down at the man in shock. Kneeling before me, holding my precious box of biscuits in his hand, is Prince Alexander.
He rises. My mouth is hanging open as if on a loose hinge.
“Let’s get out of the rain!” he shouts as a clap of thunder roars overhead.
My mascara is now stinging in my eyes. I feel a clump of mud slide down my cheek. I stand rooted in the rain, horrified by not only what I must look like but how the box of biscuits is now soaking wet.
My God, the biscuits! They must be jumbled up and now on the verge of getting soggy as the rain continues to pelt the cardboard box.
Now I can’t breathe. Everything is riding on a presentation that is already ruined before I can say a word.
No, I think, panic rising in my chest. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not with everyone depending on me. Not with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity before me.
Prince Alexander puts his hand on my arm, and a jolt runs through me. “Miss, we have to get out of the rain.”
Crack! A bolt of lightning lights up the grey sky, and I jump in response to the loud sound.
“Come on,” Prince Alexander says, grabbing my hand and pulling me with him. He’s running, holding my box in one hand while tugging me behind him with the other. My eyes are burning, and my skin is cold, but there’s one thing I’m acutely aware of as he leads me towards the path.
His hand is rough. Not what I thought a prince’s hand would feel like. His hand is large and calloused. Like someone who works with them.
All of these thoughts whirl in my brain as he leads me not to Ivy Cottage, but towards another property.
I stop, rooting my feet to the pavement and bringing him to a jerking halt. “That’s not Ivy Cottage!” I shout over the sound of the pouring rain at his back. “That’s where I have an appointment!”
He turns around. My breath catches in my throat. His jet-black hair is now hanging down across his forehead. Rain is rolling across his skin. Prince Alexander releases my hand so he can rake it through his wet hair, pushing it back into place.
“You’re going to need to dry off,” he shouts back. “You can’t go to that meeting soaking wet. You’ll get sick. I’m taking you to my cousin’s house. Liz can help.”
I’m dumbstruck. Utterly dumbstruck.
Is Prince Alexander worried I’ll get sick?
And he wants to take me to Princess Elizabeth’s house?
Oh, my God, I can’t let this happen. I’m here for business. I can’t go show up at Princess Elizabeth’s doorstep and ask for a towel!
“No, no, I’m a baker,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t go in there.”
“For the love of God, we’re going to get struck by lightning arguing about this,” he says, his blue eyes flashing. “Will you please come in? Liz won’t care.”
Liz. He simply calls her Liz.
“No,” I say, getting back to what matters. “It isn’t appropriate!”
“Then you leave me no choice, because I’m not letting you sit at Christian’s table soaking wet. If