His Runaway Campfire Princess (Camp Firefly Falls)

by Gwen Hayes

  It was a flimsy argument at best. They both knew it didn’t really matter if her new friends— women she’d known for three days—believed she was deeply and happily involved in this relationship. But she was also hoping that he would take the excuse, any excuse, to do what they both wanted.

  She didn’t believe she’d be settling at all if she had a real chance to be with Harmon. She didn’t believe he was immune to her, either. But putting herself out there was hard. He’d pushed her away so many times. And she knew he wasn’t done denying his feelings.

  But for all the things she didn’t believe about Harmon, the fact remained that she did believe in him.

  “You’re killing me.”

  She blinked innocently.

  “Merriam,” he warned. Then blew out a breath. “You don’t play fair.”

  “I’m not playing.”

  They stared at each other, a beat that held like tension on a wire. The rest of their party was getting farther away and there they stood. Her trying to see the thoughts in his head. Him…well, she didn’t know what he was trying to see when he stared at her like that.

  He was almost there. She felt him. On edge with want for her.

  They were so close.

  “I’m sure your friends think we’re making good use of our alone time now that they are out of sight.”

  “I’m sure they do.” The smile fell from her lips as rejection twisted her insides up. He was letting them get ahead so they would assume more was happening. So he wouldn’t have to sweep her off her feet. Touch her. Kiss her. God, she was so stupid. They weren’t so close at all. She just kept projecting her feelings and hoping to bully him into admitting his.

  Years of practice had her icing over her features, locking down the feelings too close to the surface. “You’re good at this subterfuge thing, Duke. Perhaps if you ever tire of babysitting, you could be a royal spy instead of guard.”

  His expression clouded over and he had the audacity to look confused at her rapid mood change. The stupid cherries churned in her gut.

  “I’d like to go back.”

  “Of course.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him. Any other time, she’d have appreciated the fact that he was treating her like a lady instead of an assignment. Because protocol had always been that the bodyguard walks next to or in front of the royal subject. Not behind. Not when there was only one bodyguard.

  But this wasn’t any other time.

  The girls were right, though not for the reasons they thought. She wouldn’t be settling for Harmon if she was Maryanne the actress and he was in the personal security business in California. She wouldn’t even be settling for him if she were a princess and he were a duke. But they weren’t the first couple and they were so much than the second. It wasn’t Harmon she’d been settling for, it was this week of pretend. It was just another of her immature games. It was time to face reality. It was time to let go of the fantasies that could never be.

  “I don’t mean back to camp. I mean home.” Confusion locked his features in a grimace. “I want to go back to Sivartania. As soon as possible. It’s time for me to accept my new life. Perhaps the king will allow me to offer suggestions for his list of potential husbands. My place is there.”

  “You’re safer here, Merriam.” Harmon scrubbed a hand through his beard and watched her wear a hole into the floorboards of their small cabin.

  She paused, shooting him a dark look. “Funny, I don’t feel safer. I feel quite vulnerable actually.”

  They’d been chewing the same argument for hours now. He’d hoped time would loosen the odd, stiff set of her shoulders. The furrowed pinch of skin above her nose.

  She’d been sullen through dinner, nearly absent at the campfire, and back to livid in their cabin.

  “Merriam—”

  “Save your breath, Duke. I’ve heard it all before. Merriam, be sensible. Merriam, be gracious. Merriam, be patient. Merriam, be ladylike. You know what’s not sensible, gracious, patient, or ladylike?” She rushed to answer her own question before he could. “The rest of the world. It’s tumultuous and unforgiving and relentless. It churns out crazy at a frightening pace. It has wounds that people like me, with time and money and influence, could help heal. But instead of being out in the world making a difference, you and my father have made sure that I’m as ineffective as a paper doll. He put my aunt in charge of making me one dimensional, and he put you in charge of guarding my cage. Instead of letting me be a diplomat or even a spokesperson, instead of letting me represent our country and make a difference in the world, my function has been to model dresses and be in pictures. Now I’m to be handed off to the next man as his cross to bear.”

  He blew out a breath, hoping the pause would give him time to find an answer that wouldn’t make things worse. But there were no answers like that. She was right—the king had done everything he could to make sure he didn’t lose her the way they’d lost the queen. But they’d lost her just the same, hadn’t they? The real Merriam. Her mother’s daughter. They were tamping down everything that she might be in order to protect her.

  The sole job her father had let her have was that of a professional party guest. Sometimes the hostess, though that was name only. None of the responsibility came with it. They’d virtually locked her in a ballroom and then been surprised to find her swinging from the chandeliers.

  But her father didn’t know her like he did. Didn’t see the way she went out of her way to remember staff birthdays. Giving them little gifts. Listening to their stories and making them feel important. Her father didn’t pay attention when she would go in after her aunt and change the seating charts at official dinners so that the elderly Captain Renfroe was seated on an end so he could stretch his bad leg and Lady Arabella wasn’t forced to sit next to the baron who’d cheated on her only the week before. She paid attention to the little things and made people comfortable. And sometimes he thought he was the only one who saw or noticed.

  He understood her anger now, but he couldn’t give her what she asked for. “My team needs another day or two to wrap up the investigation and secure our safe transport home. I apologize for the inconvenience, but we can’t leave tonight.” And he was going to have to watch over her very carefully to make sure she didn’t try to slip her detail once again. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that being on this job alone was not his smartest move. Nor professional. It was against all protocol and he knew the reason he’d suggested it was not for her safety, not for her privacy. It was for him. He’d wanted her alone. Though it was a fine time to admit it to himself. The team outside of camp provided some level of safety—but he should have them planted closer to her at all times.

  She nodded though she wasn’t happy.

  “Do you want to go have a drink?” Perhaps getting her drunk again might improve her mood.

  She shook her head.

  “Merriam, I want you to be happy. That’s all any of us want. I know I don’t always come across that way. You think I’m—”

  “Stodgy. Morose. Boring. Unfeeling. Robotic.”

  He held up his hand.

  Her eyes kindled and he all but felt the scorch on his skin. “I can go on.”

  “I know you can.”

  God knows he’d been all those things. He sat on the end of the bed. He had no clue where to go from here. How to give her what she needed when it wasn’t his place. How to continue to deny himself. It would be easier when she married. He’d have no spark of hope left. Maybe then he could move on. Because there shouldn’t be any hope now, but something in him refused to let go. Until she was married, there was a chance. And that chance wasn’t real, but he reached for it all the same.

  He’d been quiet for too long and opened his eyes to find her studying him. He felt her stare in the ache of his heart. She was carving him alive.

  She shouldn’t be so beautiful. She embodied perfection, and damn him for noticing. He was in agony every godforsaken day. She haunted him every minute of her ab
sence and sliced him to shreds mercilessly while in her presence. There was no peace, no rest, and no end.

  If it was just her beauty, he may have survived it. But he liked everything about her.

  Every damn thing.

  Her eyes changed, her hot gaze singeing him. He was giving away too much. He needed to pull himself back from the desire before it destroyed them both. He couldn’t live with that.

  “How long have you been in love with me?” she asked in the same tone she’d use to inquire of the weather.

  The ache squeezed. “What game are you playing now?” She couldn’t know. Couldn’t possibly.

  “Harmon, how long?”

  “You’re being ridicul…” Harmon couldn’t finish. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. She eyed him, wary with knowledge he’d barely admitted to himself. What no one could ever know. Most especially the princess in front of him.

  She dropped to her knees, her hands on his. And she waited.

  Because she knew.

  “Always.” He wanted to close his eyes, but he wouldn’t. He was not a man to face danger with his eyes closed. And he’d never faced anyone more dangerous than the woman on her knees in front of him. “It feels like I’ve always been in love with you.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HARMON HAD JUST ADMITTED HIS gravest weakness to the one who could harm him the most with the knowledge. He should be readying for battle. Battening hatches and reinforcing walls.

  Instead, he laid down his weapons. Let her do what she would. He was tired of fighting her. Himself. His heart wanted two things—Merriam and his family’s honor. He could never have both. Part of him realized he’d never have either.

  Merriam brought one hand to his face, cupping his cheek, and he leaned into it like a dog waiting to be pet. Her touch brought all the aches inside him to the surface in hopes her care could soothe them. Harmon drew in a shaky breath.

  “You should not be on your knees before me, Your Highness.”

  She lifted one side of her mouth. “Are you concerned with protocol right now?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t give a damn about protocol right now.”

  He was through with it. He needed her.

  He reached under her arms while she was rising, and in one fluid moment, she was on her back on the mattress and his head was on her breast. She clung to him, letting her fingers dance through his hair while he listened to her heart pick up tempo.

  She held him. Of all the things, he hadn’t ever expected, it was this peace in her arms that astounded him most. How could the woman who aggravated him continuously be the one to offer such grace to him? He felt as if his insides were clicking into place. Like he’d been out of whack for so long, but she knew how to fix him. Make it better.

  “Let’s have tonight,” she whispered.

  It was a mistake. She had to know it. One night would never be enough and only serve to hurt them more.

  His hand slid under the hem of her t-shirt. Her skin was warm and soft. A small mew escaped her throat, and he pulled her to him more tightly. God, to hold her, it was more than enough and not enough at the same time. She burrowed into his neck, and he soothed her with even strokes of his hand on her back while he inhaled the scent of her hair as if it were air. Her body, snug against his own.

  It was a mistake, but he would have her tonight and damn tomorrow.

  Shackles lifted off his soul, and he breathed in freedom for the first time in years.

  Pressing his forehead to hers, he let out a slow breath.

  He would not do this halfway. If he was to have her for only one night, he would make sure he burned it into his soul. No holding back. Not any longer.

  Harmon took her mouth. He crushed her to his body and kissed her fiercely. She whimpered and clutched his forearms while he took the words of surprise from her lips and replaced them with a different need. His need for her that bit and twisted, weaving years of longing and deprivation together into a compulsion that could no longer be denied.

  He bruised her with his mouth while he plundered, searching and seeking for what only she could give him. She emitted a female sound of pleasure that went from his ear straight to his cock. The hand on her belly moved up, cupping her bare breast while he deepened the kiss, groaning. Nothing should have felt so good. Her nipple tightened under his palm. She sucked on his tongue and he went cross-eyed with lust. He pulled back so he could sit her up and get the damn shirt off her. He needed to see her. Needed her skin with nothing between them.

  “You’re amazing,” he told her once she was bared to him. Her breasts filled his hands, the rosy tips better than any dream. He bent to lick one and his princess arched, giving him all of her. Trusting him completely. So he drew the peak into his mouth, sucking while she gasped his name.

  His name. On her lips. She was going to destroy him, and he didn’t even care.

  His fingers traced the skin of her stomach, circling her navel. She was lush—her skin and curves driving him mad with the silky heat. He kissed her there, right below her belly button where her skin was the softest. He could smell her, the light musk reaching into the most primitive parts of him. Mine.

  Harmon sat up and pulled his own shirt off, proud when he saw a feminine glint of appreciation light her eyes. “See something you like, Princess?”

  “Are you teasing me?” She pushed up onto her knees. “Or are you fishing for compliments maybe?”

  “I want to please you, Merriam. I need…”

  She placed a palm on his chest. “What do you need?” Both hands wandered over his chest and shoulders now. Her greedy hands stroked over him like she was afraid he was going to stop her. As if he didn’t like the sparks her fingertips left in their wake. As if he wasn’t taut, every muscle tense, every nerve ending wishing for her touch.

  Maybe he did need to stop her. He was already too close, too on the edge. When she added her hot mouth to her exploration, he groaned and reached for her wrists. She continued using her mouth, stopping on a nipple, flicking it with her tongue. The answering pull inside him was like a powerful ocean tide on his control.

  He had to push her back. He didn’t want to. But he didn’t want to end the show before he’d even managed to get his pants off. “Merriam.”

  “You didn’t answer me.” He brought her wrists behind her, so she leaned forward, caressing him with just her breasts. “Tell me, Duke. Tell me what you need. Anything you want. I’ll give it to you, I swear.”

  Her words inflamed him beyond all reason. The last hold he had on his control snapped as he used one hand to keep her wrists still and the other to snake into her yoga pants, grabbing her ass and pulling it to him. He squeezed the globe, the satisfying weight of it loosening yet another hold on reality.

  She couldn’t give him what he wanted because he wanted all of it at once. He wanted her bouncing on his cock, riding him. He wanted to taste her, make her writhe on his tongue. He wanted her beneath him, on top of him, on her knees, against a wall. He wanted her to swallow him, milk him dry with her mouth. Every dirty fantasy he’d ever had—he wanted all at once.

  As he squeezed her ass, he kissed her, trying to tell her with his body what he needed because there were no words. He pushed her into his cock, straining against his jeans, while his mouth devoured hers.

  He needed everything. Everything she had. Everything she was. He needed her to need him as desperately as he craved her now. To be mindless and primitive. To forget who they were. That he was supposed to protect her, not devour her.

  She strained against his rough hold. He had just enough left in him to pull back, to see if she was in distress. He looked into her eyes, afraid of what he might find there. Instead, the fire in her gaze amped up his desire even further.

  “Harmon, fuck me.”

  Merriam was surprised to hear the words coming out of her mouth. Harmon didn’t seem to be.

  He didn’t say a word. But growled as he threw her down, yanking her yoga pants off her
legs. Getting off the bed and making short work of his own.

  He was a work of art, thick with muscles and heat. His cock was…well now she was a little scared. A ghost of a smile flit over his features before they returned to their serious resting-scowl face. But the wicked glint in his eyes remained. He knew he was big. Knew he was intimidating. Knew she could take it.

  He palmed himself in front of her, all male pride and wonderful lust. Oh God. He was thick. And beautiful.

  Challenge accepted.

  “Don’t be greedy, Harmon. If you need a hand, I’m happy to assist.”

  He shook his head. “If you touch me right now, I’ll embarrass us both.”

  “So, you’re going to stay over there, then?” She widened her legs, giving him what she hoped was an enticing view.

  “Princess, you don’t play fair. Lay down. All the way now.”

  She did as he asked and felt the bed dip from his weight. Instead of settling over her, taking her the way she’d just asked, he stayed to the side a bit. Then she felt him touching her, but not with his hands. With the cock he held in his hand, he rested it on her breast. Her stomach flipped at the sight of it there. The way it felt when he used it to glide across her nipple and back. Hard as iron, wrapped in silky soft skin, he rubbed the moist tip of his himself against the tight, pebbled peak of her nipple,

  “So pretty,” he murmured, as entranced by the sight as she was.

  It was more erotic than she’d expected. The ridge rubbing across her now diamond-hard nipple. He continued his exploration, gasping now and then as the sensitive underside stroked over her skin. He was marking her, claiming every inch of her.

  She knotted the quilt beneath her in her hands. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to taste him. But being owned by him was the hottest thing that had ever happened her.

  He straddled her, bringing that rigid cock to her cleavage and squeezing her breasts around him.