Chapter 3 The Love at First Sight

The Moment Isabella Rosewood saw him, she knew she'd found her knight. If she hadn't already believed in love at first sight, she would have in that instant. He stood tall and broad

and indomitable against the dusk-filled November sky, everything about him suggesting Prefect Match, fairy castles and happily-ever-afters all rolled into one.

He was, as far as she could tell, perfection.

She first noticed him as she approached the "palace," a huge mansion that rose out

of the Nevada desert like a great white beacon of hope. He stood in the center of the flagstone walkway, taking in the whimsical, wedding cake design of the house with an expression of cynical disdain. Clearly he considered the overall effect pretentious.

She considered it a dream come true.

Not that she'd hold his attitude against him. Heavens, no. The man she married needed to be in touch with the real world, to have a tough, no-nonsense edge. He needed to be a match for Mrs. .

She slipped closer hoping to get a clear look at him. As though accommodating her, he turned slightly so the floodlights lining the walk stabbed across his face,

revealing in brutal detail every austere plane and angle. What she saw stopped her cold.

This was no Prince Charming boldly blocking the path, but a Prince of Darkness.

The man might have been hewn from solid rock, as starkly beautiful and as fatally dangerous as the desert surrounding them. Hair as black as coal swept back from a broad furrowed brow and framed high, arching cheekbones and a firm, squared jaw. Hisbfeatures were too bold to be called handsome, but she didn't mind. The harsh, craggy planes appealed to her.

He looked down then, as though surprised to find her at his side, and lifted a dark eyebrow. She caught her breath, captured within the austere glare of his bright golden eyes. "Getting a jump on the competition?" he asked, his voice reminding her of the rumble of distant thunder.

She tilted her head to one side. "Excuse me?"

"You're looking for a husband aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then run along inside, elf. I'm no one you'd want to marry."

He was accustomed to instant obedience, she realized. But he'd soon discover she

didn't skitter away at the first flash of lightning or crack of thunder-for that's what his

expression reminded her of, the threat of a fastapproaching storm. "I need a strong man.

You look strong," she said instead.

"I need a wife to share my bed. And then, after a brief-as-possible marriage, we go

our separate ways." He folded his arms across his chest and lifted an eyebrow. "Is that

what you want, too?"

"I want a man who likes to win," she said, evading the question. "Someone who's

a fighter."

"You waging war?"

She frowned, considering. "I guess you could call it war. All right, yes. I'm waging

war. But, I also need someone fair and reasonable and patient. A...a gentle warrior."

He laughed at that, amusement lightening his eyes, but doing nothing to ease the

hardness of his features. "You have the wrong man," he stated and walked away.

She watched him go, taking in his easy, long-legged gait, not in the least surprised

when people quickly made room for him, giving way to the stronger force. That was

how he'd be with Mrs. Harper, she didn't doubt for a minute. And though he claimed he

wasn't fair or reasonable or patient, she suspected he lied. Oh, not deliberately. He

wasn't the type. He just didn't see his own goodness. But she did.

"You'll do," she whispered with a wide grin. "In fact, you'll more than do."

Alex wended his way through the crowd streaming toward the mansion. One down, he

thought grimly, and only a few hundred more to go. With nine or ten hours available to him, that meant he had to interview about a dozen or two women an hour. That gave him three and a half minutes per candidate. He shook his head in exasperation. This was crazy. Three and a half minutes to choose a wife. Great. Just great. What the hell could Eric have been thinking? Better yet, What was he possibly thinking to have agreed to such a ridiculous plan?

He climbed the sweeping steps leading toward the entrance hall and glanced back.

His elf still stood where he'd left her, her dress a pale splash of green in the gathering dusk. Too bad she hadn't worked out. She'd been a tempting little morsel.

Unfortunately the instant he'd spotted her hovering at his elbow, he'd known she was all wrong. For one thing, she looked the type who expected a Perfect Match and fairy castles and happily-ever-afters. And for another, he found her too damned attractive. One look at all that white-blond hair tumbling into eyes the color of new spring leaves and he'd known he'd have to put a whole lot of space between them.

Otherwise he'd end up slinging her over his shoulder and heading for the nearest exit.

And that would never do.

He frowned, turning from the sight of her, shaking off the memory of her wide, pixielike smile. She had too open a face-mischievous, intelligent...and vulnerable.

The sort of face that threatened to creep into a man's heart and soul and poison him with impossible fantasies. Fantasies he'd given up on eons ago. Fantasies that would never come true.

Besides, she was a complication he couldn't afford-not if he wanted to gain his inheritance.

A nudge from behind woke Isabella to her surroundings and she started, realizing she

stood in the middle of the walkway lost in thought. She'd been picturing the sweetest of

fantasies-one that involved a dark, handsome prince and a real house and children. It was a fantasy that could be hers, once she got past a certain masculine stumbling block.

She eyed the retreating back of the stumbling block in question, pleased beyond all measure when he hesitated and glanced over his shoulder in her direction. He needed her. The instinctive knowledge grew stronger with each passing moment. She'd senseda gaping emptiness in him and knew that she could fill it, a raw hurt that she had the power to heal. He needed someone who could see the inherent goodness in his character, who wouldn't be fooled by his stormy expression and searing gold eyes and tough, independent attitude. He was a man plagued by demons, demons she could destroy.

He needed her.

Gathering up the long sweep of her skirt, she started toward the mansion. She didn't want to get too far behind her future husband. Heaven only knew what trouble he'd get into if she did. He might even pick the wrong woman through sheer ignorance.

She grinned. Or sheer bullheadedness.

Stepping through the double doors leading inside, she stopped dead, staring around in amazement. The marble entrance hall seemed to stretch endlessly, the huge support

pillars decorated for Thanksgiving with pine garland, fairy lights and white satin bows.

A massive chandelier, glittering with thousands of tiny prisms, caught the setting-sun and scattering a dancing circle of rainbows in joyous welcome. Twin, curving staircases

on either side of the hallway led to the upstairs ballroom, joining at the top to form a perfect heart.