Searching For Her Prince by Karen Rose Smith Page B

in a house with a man a scandal. But she wanted more time with him as much as he wanted it with her.
    More than anything, he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her, yet he knew kissing could easily get out of hand and he intended to keep his word to her. “Let’s go for a walk after breakfast. I want to show you everything I like best about being here.”
    Before he realized what she was going to do, sherose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. That simple gesture touched him in a way nothing else could. “What was that for?”
    “Your honesty. Our friendship.”
    His honesty. What would happen when she found out he was Marcus Cordello?
    Right now it didn’t matter. For the next week he was Brent Carpenter.
    And he’d deal with the rest later.
     
    At first Brent captured all of Amira’s attention as they went out the back door and through the yard. The blue sky had become overcast and there was dampness in the air. But she hardly noticed all that. Her world was filled by the man beside her who had finally given her a piece of his soul. She could understand better now why he closed himself off and had been slow to share personal information. Several times in his life, he’d had to fit the puzzle pieces back together again.
    Now she could understand why he immersed himself in his work and hadn’t looked for another serious involvement. He wasn’t looking for one now. He felt responsible for his fiancée’s death, even though he wasn’t. Love brought with it responsibility so he didn’t want either. Amira knew she had to take this week for what it was, an interlude—time to spend with a man she was beginning to care about deeply. She had to accept the fact that that was all it was. Could she do that?
    As Brent’s large hand clasped her elbow, she didn’t have time to formulate an answer. “Over this way,” he directed her.
    Cocoa ran beside them as they came to the end ofthe pathway in the yard and entered a copse of weeping birches.
    “Through here.” Brent’s hand went to the small of her back.
    She could feel its imprint through her sweater. She felt small beside Brent, protected by him, excited by being so close.
    “Where are we going?”
    “In a few minutes you’ll see,” he said with an easy grin.
    Emerging from the birches, they came into a small clearing bordered by pines. In that clearing sat a lopsided little building that Amira supposed could be a utility shed. Except, she could make out a shade at the window, and the door was somewhat unusual. It was a Dutch door such as she’d seen at a stable. Then she saw the slab of wood nailed above the door. It looked as if it had seen many winters. She could just make out the letters that spelled Private and she suddenly knew what it was.
    “You had a clubhouse.”
    “A clubhouse for two. My brother and I built it. We found the plans in a magazine and it gave us something to do the summer we were eleven.”
    “May I?” she asked motioning toward the door.
    “You’d better let me open it first and see if it’s safe to go inside.”
    When Brent opened the door, there were only a few cobwebs and the smell of damp leaves. “You’re too tall to fit,” she teased.
    He stooped, then folded his legs and sat on the floor. When he patted the boards next to him, she laughed and ducked through the doorway.
    Then she sat on the floor beside him with theirshoulders brushing. Cocoa wiggled inside beside Brent and settled on the wooden floor, too.
    “You and your brother did a good job if this is still standing,” Amira remarked.
    “It’s been through a few repairs, but it’s held up well.”
    In the small quarters Brent was more than ever aware of her. He took her hand in his and held it, interlacing their fingers. The silence was only broken now and then by birds chirping and by the breeze blowing stray leaves across the threshold.
    “I spent a lot of time here,” he said. “Although my brother was far away, I felt closer to him in