Chapter Three

The truth was that she didn’t even know what exactly she wanted to do with her life. As a princess, she had everything she ever wanted. She had lacked absolutely nothing throughout her life and she wasn’t even sure she had any purpose, but she knew that this wasn’t it. A life time with Prince Marcus definitely wasn’t it.

She shouldn’t have waited so long to listen to the doubts. She should have confided in one or more of her friends, asked for their advice, but they were all so busy with their own lives, their own relationships and jobs. She didn’t want to bother them with something she should be able to work out for herself.

A cool breeze drifted in through the side door. The early spring rainstorm that had crossed through the area last night had long since moved on, leaving in its wake the promise of blue skies and crisp, refreshing days.

The sunshine beckoned her, like a beacon of escape she only now realized was within reach.

She walked to the door, set the bouquet on the nearby table and pulled off her veil.

It drifted to the floor as she stepped outside.

She took a deep breath. Held it. Released it. The belt of panic that had been tightening around her loosened. It continued to ease with each step she took away from the club. Her spiked heels clicked on the cement stairs she descended. Bending down, she caught huge wads of fabric in her hands and hiked up her dress, walking quickly along the stone path to the marina entrance. She welcomed the warmth of the sun beating down on her.

Bonnie surrendered to instinct. She had grown up here.The boats were all different, of course, but they were also the same. She had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there. But she most definitely was not going to get married. Not now.

Maybe not ever with the way things were going.

There was commotion behind her and it caused her to pick up her pace. She couldn’t be certain it had anything to do with her, of course. But the sooner she got out of sight and took some time to decide what came next, the better. She wasn’t thinking. She didn’t want to. In Fact she was scared to because she didn’t want to change her mind.

She knew her father and mother would be extremely disappointed and pissed off, but getting on the boat felt right. Every schooner, yacht or cruiser she eyed had her scrambling onward. Her heel caught between two planks.

Foot stuck, she pitched forward and cried out, landing awkwardly. Probably looking like a marshmallow factory that had exploded, she pushed herself up and shoved her hair out of her face. She twisted around to pull her foot free from her shoe, but froze, blinking at the boat right in front of her.

Her stomach clenched. More cries and calls and shouts came from the direction of the club. Her pulse kicked into top speed. She finally yanked out the shoe from between the planks and practically dived onto the boat.

She scrambled across the deck toward the open hatch, her dress billowing around her.

Once inside, she stopped. A time warp to the eighties? Dark painted wood paneling, hideous pastel floral-print cushions on the bench seats and nautical-themed drapes over the lone grimy window. Boy, did this boat need some TLC ASAP.

She bunched up her dress and squeezed past the galley kitchen, then began pulling open doors. She heard distinct and all-too-familiar voices shouting from the dock, including her father’s loud baritone.

Expecting a bathroom behind the next door, she ended up wedging herself into a narrow closet where old fishing rods and gear were stored. It also had one shelf. With a fast sweep of her arm, she cleared it. After tucking the dress up and around her, she hoisted herself up, reached out and pulled the door closed.

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David Stewart watched the young woman and stared one more time at the picture on his phone. She had the biggest brown eyes he had ever seen, he thought.

She also looked innocent as hell, despite the ridiculous clothes she wore and the huge, frayed canvas tote bag she carried. Did she actually think she blended in, just because her coat was tattered and her hat was a little ratty? Did she think anyone would ever believe her to be one of these people?

Not likely.

So what was she doing here at this time of night? The lower east side of this town was no place for a lady like her. She strolled past him again, this time more slowly, and her eyes were so wide it looked as if they could take in her surroundings in a single glance. They took in David.

He felt a thrill of awareness, sharper than anything he’d ever felt before. She looked away, but not before he detected the faint pink blush that washed over her fine features. That blush had been obvious even in the dim evening light, with only the moon and corner street lamp for illumination. She had flawless skin, but what did he expect? She was a princess…Probably never done a thing her entire life to ruin her perfect skin.

Dammit. He had enough to worry about without this Miss Priss with manicured nails and salon-styled hair trying to fob herself off as a local. He had a job to do, and he had to stick to it without getting distracted. He had only stepped outside the bar when he saw her leave, and it was good for him because he needed to get a breath of fresh air. The smell of perfume inside was overwhelming, and enough to turn his stomach. He could hear the music in the bar grow louder and knew the dancers were coming onstage.

In less than ten minutes, maybe he would have to go back in there, baring himself in the line of duty…

Damn. He hated this place. It was exhausting, and he couldn’t believe that the men in there were actually doing all that. What decent, hardworking man should have to peel off his clothes for a bunch of sex-starved, groping women? There was no way any self respecting man would enjoy displaying himself nightly. No way. It also made him wonder why the princess would willingly go to a place like that.