The Cowboy and the Princess by Myrna Mackenzie

wanted to,” he began, but then he stopped. That wasn’t true. That was the reason she was here, because she couldn’t go anywhere. She wasn’t safe anywhere. And maybe not even here, with a man who found that her smile made him burn…
    He wasn’t going to do anything that might bring harm or pain or disgust to her life. He should get smart, go into town and hookup with one of the female sometime friends he knew. He definitely needed to bank the fire this woman had fanned to life within him. Yeah, he was going to do that real soon. And, as for Delfyne…
    “Do not try to light that old gas stove again. We don’t usually use it, and only Lydia understands it. She’ll help you.”
    “I’ll listen to her carefully,” she promised. “And one day I’m going to serve you something that I made with my own hands. It will be a treat.”
    “I’ll consider it as such.”
    She laughed, a sound that made him want to lean closer. “I meant me . It will be a treat for me to be able to say that I actually made something. I’ve never made anything in my life.”
    Suddenly she rose on her toes and kissed Owen on the cheek.
    Like a torch filled with fuel, his senses burst into flame. Carefully he held himself in check, not following through on his impulse to turn so that his lips met hers, his warmth against her warmth, his mouth covering her mouth.
    “I’ll look forward to whatever you give me,” he said, his voice brusque.
    “And you’ll be honest with me about how it tastes?” she asked.
    Again he thought of her lips and how she would taste.
    “I’ll do that,” he promised.
    Later, when he stood outside beneath the stars thinking about the fact that Delfyne slept in one of his beds upstairs, he reminded himself that her glow, her enthusiasm, the way her whole body seemed barely to keep her spirit locked inside was simply the result of the newness of this experience.
    To him this was home, a place he’d lived all his life. It wasn’t exactly ordinary, but it was familiar. When the ranch became familiar to Delfyne, the new would have worn off, the enthusiasm would be gone.
    Then she would see the rough parts, the lonely parts, the lackof things she was used to and wanted and she would look forward to leaving. That was the way it was with people who were brought or sent here rather than coming of their own accord.
    Not that any of that mattered. She wouldn’t be here long enough for that to happen. She had a prince waiting for her somewhere. By this time next year she would be married to him and in his bed.
    Owen let his breath out in a whoosh, shook his head and moved farther away from the house. He wished the summer would end soon. Andreus owed him more than the man would ever know.
    It was a debt he would never claim. Once this summer was over, it would probably be a good idea to break ties with his friend.
    Andreus was a busy man.
    And so am I, Owen thought. Tons of jobs to do around here. He intended to throw himself into work. No more stroking the new cook.
     
    Delfyne looked at the massive four-poster bed where she had just finished changing the sheets. The bed was constructed from some sort of rustic golden wood, and it was Owen’s. Lydia had said so while Delfyne was trailing her about, asking her to show her how to do all the hundreds of things that Lydia did every day.
    She smoothed her palms over the green-and-blue quilt. It was the color of Montana, Lydia had said. Delfyne smiled. Lydia was always saying things like that, giving Delfyne a running commentary about this place and the people she so clearly loved. Except for Owen. She didn’t say much about Owen.
    “He’s private,” Lydia had told Delfyne. “He’s a good man, but he’s a hard man and he wouldn’t like it if I talked about him, so I don’t.” Her words were clearly a warning, especially since Delfyne had been asking nonstop questions about anything and everything, especially Owen.
    “I have to run out for a while, dear,” Lydia