‘Hardly surprising. If someone gave me an eighteenth birthday party like that I’d want to get away, too.’ His gaze moved down her bare legs and rested on her feet. ‘What happened to your shoes, Cinderella?’

‘I left them at the stable.’ She tried to scramble to her feet and then gave a yelp of pain as her ankle gave way. ‘Ouch!’

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them away, determined not to cry in front of him.

He frowned sharply. ‘Let me look at that.’

Without waiting for her permission he slid a strong hand down her leg and examined her ankle. She held her breath and stared in fascination at his long, strong fingers as they moved over the bone, pressing and testing her reaction. Finally he straightened. ‘It’s not broken. You must have sprained it when you fell. You’re lucky you didn’t fracture your skull.’

Strands of her blonde hair trailed onto his forearm and she marvelled at the contrast between them. He was so dark and strong and everything about him was so different to her. Hypnotised by his masculinity, her eyes fixed on the dark hairs on his forearms, travelled slowly upwards over the swell of muscle and then lifted to the stubble shadowing his hard jaw. He was breathtakingly gorgeous and so sexy that her imagination took flight.

She felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach and her eyes dropped to his firm mouth, wondering, wishing …

He met her rapt expression with a lazy amusement that was totally male. ‘Stop looking at me like that, princess, or I just might do what you want me to do.’

She blushed and sank her teeth into her lower lip. Miles from anywhere, frustrated beyond belief with her life, she felt suddenly bold. ‘I want you to kiss me.’

She stood totally still, shocked by her own impulsive declaration, but his expression didn’t flicker.

‘I know you do.’

His wicked dark eyes slid down to her mouth and suddenly her breathing was choppy.

‘So will you?’

His gaze lifted. ‘No.’

Her fragile bubble of confidence exploded and she stumbled to her feet, wincing at the pain in her ankle. ‘Because you’re scared of my father?’

He threw back his head and laughed. A rich, masculine sound that made her toes curl.

‘What do you think?’ He was still smiling and she swallowed.

‘I don’t think you’re scared of anything.’ She stared down at her feet, mortified by his rejection. ‘So it’s because I’m not pretty enough.’

There was a long, electric silence and then he slid strong fingers under her chin and forced her to look at him.

‘You’re beautiful, princess, and you know it.’ His voice was soft and he moved his hand and ran his fingers through her blonde hair with the same easy confidence that he applied to everything. ‘So beautiful that it hurts to look at you.’

‘So why won’t you kiss me?’

‘Because I’m too old to sneak around kissing children.’