He stalked toward her. “Marry me. You don’t love this weasel.” He scanned the room for her parents and couldn’t miss the regal posture of a man in dark gray slacks and a white button down. “Mr.—”

Wait. Shit. He’s not a mister. “Prince…sir, I love your daughter. I’d like to ask for her hand in marriage. I’m a hardworking man with the means to take care of her. I come from a good family, and…” Well, hell, he didn’t know what this family looked for in a husband for their oldest daughter. It wasn’t like Marcel had any outstanding qualities. “I’m a businessman. I run successful businesses.”

Maybe shut the fuck up? Jesus, he felt like a sumo wrestler invading a ballet recital. Just get to the point. “You can’t make someone with the brains and talent and…and spirit of your daughter marry some weak-willed cheater.”

“Brodie—” Rosalina began.

“Hang on.” He reached for her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed her palm. “I understand your duty. I do. I understand what you need to do for your family and your country, so I’ll move here. I’ll marry you right now.”

Her father rose out of his chair, all imperious. “Do you have royal blood?”

Brodie had to think fast, back to conversations they’d had with their dad and uncle over campfires and long hikes. “I think around the time of Mary, Queen of Scots…it’s possible we—”

“Brodie.” Rosalina’s voice gentled. “My dad’s teasing you.”

Oh. Heat rushed up his neck, burning his earlobes.

She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m not marrying Marcel.”

“But you’re wearing…” As he paid more attention, he realized she wore a simple white sundress. “You don’t have to marry him?”

“No. We’re making changes, and the Allard family is part of that.” She reached for his hand. “Come with me.”

He turned back to her father, who grinned at him. His wife stood by his side, a stunning dark-haired beauty. “I’m sorry for bursting in here.” He let out an awkward chuckle. “I thought…” Shut up. They know what you thought.

They nodded, but no one said a word as Rosie led him across the room. At the doorway, he turned back. “But I meant every word I said.” He pointed at Marcel. “You had your shot, and you blew it. Sucks for you, because you’re going to miss out on one wild ride.”

Rosie tugged on his hand, dragging him down the hallway and into a parlor. “What are you doing here? How’d you even get in?” She closed the door behind him.

He reached for her, pulling her close. “I get to, though, right?” What if coming home had changed her mind about them?

She looked confused. “Get to what?”

“Go on the wild ride with you?”