The Man Who Would Be King

by Linda Turner

  "We thought we'd kill two birds with one stone," the man said. "Elizabeth would learn all the ins and outs about running a bed-and-breakfast, and I could talk to a real rancher about the pitfalls of ranching." His expression turning regretful, he shrugged. "I guess that's the breaks, huh? We'll just have to find another bed-and-breakfast somewhere else. Of course, finding a ranch is going to be a little more difficult.

  "Hey," he said suddenly, "what about you, Miss Chambers? Maybe you could tell me something about running a ranch. It looks like you've got a pretty big place here. You don't run it all by yourself, do you?"

  She started to tell him that Jessica actually ran the ranch, only to shut her mouth with a snap. No. Her sister—and the baby—was something she would keep to herself until she could find a way to make them pay off. "The hired hand took off a couple of days ago for a miningjob in Montana. He didn't even give notice."

  "No kidding? That must have been rough. How long had he worked for you?"

  If Ursula needed proof that her unwanted visitors were looking for the prince, Lawrence just gave it to her. For someone who claimed to be interested in ranching in general, he seemed awfully interested in one particular ranch hand. And that irritated her to no end. So he thought he was going to pick her brain, go after the prince and collect all the glory, did he? she fumed. Over her dead body! This was her ticket to fame and glory, by God, and no one was taking it from her. She'd tell him everything he wanted to know about Prince Charming. He might fall for the wild tale the prince had told her sister about a miningjob—she hoped he did. Then he and his girlfriend would take off on a wild goose chase to Montana and leave her a clear shot to the prince. She could find him. After all, how hard could it be? Now that Prince Lucas had, no doubt, remembered who he was, he was bound to be on his way back to Montebello. All she had to do was convince Jessica that tracking him down was the right thing to do for the baby.

  But first, she reminded herself, she had to get rid of John Wayne. "I guess he was here for several months," she said with a shrug. "He came wandering in here one day looking for food, and talked me into letting him stay. I've always been a sucker for a sob story," she lied, giving an Oscar-winning performance, "and Joe just broke my heart. He'd been in a fight and got hit in the head. The poor guy couldn't remember anything. He didn't even know his real name. Joe was just something he picked out of the phone book."

  "Oh, that's awful," Elizabeth murmured in sympathy. "I can't imagine not knowing my real name. He must have felt like he was walking around in a fog. Did he choose a last name?"

  She nodded. "Benson. Joe Benson. He was perfect for the job—six-two and strong as a mule. He turned out to be a really hard worker. He didn't know much about cattle at the 1 beginning, but the man knew horses. From the way he acted, he'd obviously been around them all his life."

  She rattled on about the absent Joe, and as he listened to her, Lorenzo found it hard to contain his excitement. The man she spoke of had to be Lucas! He'd always been strong and athletic, and his way with horses was legendary. There couldn't be two men in Colorado that met that description, especially when Mr. Johnson had recognized Lucas's picture. Lucas and the missing Joe had to be one and the same.

  Relieved—he was alive!—Lorenzo had a thousand questions. Had Joe said anything at all about his past? How was his health? But as much as Lorenzo wanted to grill Ursula, he couldn't. After all, his interest was supposed to be in the ranch, not a drifter who'd moved on.

  Biting back his questions, all he could say was, "It's too bad he quit. It sounds like you lost a good man. Maybe he'll come back if the miningjob doesn't work out."

  "There's not much chance of that," she said flatly. "Ranch hands don't come back once they've moved on."

  Before she could say more, the sound of a siren cut through the cold morning air. Seconds later, a black-and-white patrol car from the sheriff's department came barreling up the drive to the ranch house and the opportunity was lost.

  A giant of a man, the deputy stepped out of the car and took in the scene in a single glance. His eyes narrowing on the trussed up burglar, who gave him a go-to-hell look, he then greeted Ursula with a nod, and said, "It looks like you all have had some trouble. Anybody hurt?"

  "No, sir," Lorenzo said, "but it wasn't from lack of trying on this man's part." Glaring at the burglar, he added, "He held a gun to my fiancee's head and tried to kidnap her."

  "Where's the gun?"

  "Here," Eliza said. Stepping forward, she held it out to him in distaste.

  "I'll need statements from everyone," the deputy said as he placed the gun in a plastic evidence bag, then pulled a small notebook from his coat pocket and looked expectantly at Lorenzo. "You first, sir."

  Without blinking an eye, Lorenzo gave him the same story he'd given Ursula Chambers. "My fiancee and I were looking for a bed-and-breakfast..."

  An hour later, the burglar was in custody and Lorenzo and Eliza were free to go. Climbing back into the truck, Eliza hardly waited until they were out of sight of the house before she turned to Lorenzo with sparkling eyes. "Well? Say something!"

  Lorenzo grinned. "Something."

  "Oh! You know what I mean," she laughed, hitting him lightly on the arm. "We've found him, haven't we? Joe Benson is Prince Lucas. Isn't he? He has to be!"

  She answered her own question, but Lorenzo couldn't tease her about it. "I still need to see him with my own eyes, but, yes, I agree. I think we've found the prince."

  "I knew it! The second Sally told me about him, I had a feeling we'd finally gotten lucky. Do you think he really went to Montana or he just told Ursula that?"

  That question was a little more difficult to answer. "It's hard to say. If he thought she'd give him a hard time about quitting, he might have come up with another job offer to satisfy her. But it sounds like this came up pretty quickly and he didn't want to let the offer pass him by."

  "So he's in Montana," Eliza concluded, sitting back in her seat with a pleased smile. "Damn, I wish we could have asked her where!"

  "That might have given us away," he replied. "And finding the mine won't be a problem. We'll visit all of them if we have to."

  "So we're going to Montana? Now?"

  "Just as soon as I call the king and tell him about the latest developments," he assured her as he drove back into town and pulled into the motel parking lot. "He'll want to know about this."

  Since they hadn't known what to expect at the Chambers ranch, they hadn't checked out, but had taken a single room for another night. As they stepped inside, Lorenzo found himself struggling with a dozen different memories.. .the first time they'd made love, the last.. .the feel of Eliza's skin under his hands, the taste of her.. .the moment when the gun went off at the ranch.. .the exact second he realized how much he loved her.

  How long had he loved her? he thought, shaken. It seemed like forever.. .and only seconds. And he couldn't wait to tell her, to show her, to make love to her until they both were too weak to move. But first, he had to talk to the king.

  Punching in the number to his aunt and uncle's private phone in the family quarters of the palace, he greeted Marcus with a quiet hello, and said, "I have news."

  "He's alive?"

  "I believe he is, but I haven't seen him for myself." Quickly and efficiently, he told him about Mr. Johnson's positive I.D. of Lucas's picture, then his conversation with Ursula Chambers about the missing hired hand named Joe. "We missed him by just a day or two. He quit without notice to take a job in a mine in Montana."

  "A mine? Are you sure this is Lucas, Lorenzo? That doesn't sound like something he'd do at all."

  "I know, but the hardware owner was positive it was him, and the description the Chambers woman gave was accurate. It's him, Marcus. He's in Montana—we just don't know where. Picking up his trail again will take some time, but I feel sure we'll be able to find him."

  Well pleased, the king laughed. "He's alive, Lorenzo. That's what's important! I can't wait to tell Gwendolyn
and the girls."

  "It's very important that this be kept quiet until he's found, Your Highness."

  "I understand," the king told him. "Don't worry. I won't put my son in jeopardy. What I tell Gwen and the girls goes no further. We have you to thank for this, Lorenzo. As always, you've done an excellent job. I want you to fly back home tonight, and you can give me all the details when you get here."

  Surprised, he said, "But I haven't found him yet!"

  "I know, but some things have come up here that only you can handle. The mood in Montebello is tense and your presence here would go a long way to soothe it. Though I never made the official announcement, most of the country guessed you were my first choice for the throne, and with Lucas still gone, and things so uncertain, it might be reassuring to the public if you returned. So I'm going to send Tyler Ramsey to take over the search for you. He's one of the mercenaries from the Noble Men who's been working for me, and I think he's the perfect man to investigate the mines in Montana. He's been following your reports and is anxious to help. So I'll see you tomorrow. All right?"

  "Yes, sir. Of course," he replied. What else could he say? Tyler Ramsey was a good man, and the Noble Men specialized in covert operations. He was well trained to handle the job.

  It wasn't, however, the search that he hated to leave behind. It was Eliza. They'd only just now found each other. How was he going to walk away?

  "Well?" she said expectantly when he hung up the phone and just sat there. "What did he say?"

  "I have to return to Montebello."

  Stunned, Eliza couldn't believe she'd heard him correctly. "What?! When?"

  "Immediately."

  "But why? We haven't found the prince yet. Surely the king doesn't expect us to give up now. We're finally on the right track!"

  His face expressionless, he offered no explanation other than, "There are some matters at home that I need to take care of. Someone else will take over the search for the prince." Reaching for the phone book, he flipped through to the yellow pages. "I need to call the airlines and make a reservation for tonight. We'll need to leave immediately if I'm going to make it back to Denver in time for my flight."

  Stricken, Eliza watched him punch in the toll-free number for the airlines and couldn't believe this was happening. There had to be a mistake. She loved him! He couldn't be leaving. Not like this. Not when she'd been so sure that he loved her as much as she loved him. She'd felt his love and caring in his touch, tasted it in his kiss. She didn't care what the king said. He wouldn't just leave her!

  But that was exactly what he was preparing to do, and without one word of regret. And that broke her heart. Could she have been that wrong about him and his feelings? Had she fallen in love with a man who didn't love her? Had never loved her?

  Hurt lancing her heart, she opened her mouth to ask him, only to shut it with a snap. No! she told herself furiously. She did have some pride. Obviously, she didn't need to ask him anything. The fact that he was preparing to leave without expressing any regret told her everything she needed to know.

  "I'll go fill the truck up with gas while you're making your reservations," she said coolly. "It's a four hour drive back to Denver, so we should be there in plenty of time for you to make an evening flight to Montebello. I'll be back in a minute." Grabbing the keys off the table, she turned and walked out with her head in the air. It wasn't until she shut the door behind her and headed for the truck that the tears began to fall.

  Long after she left, Lorenzo just sat there, swearing.

  The return drive to Denver was accomplished in near silence. Keeping a tight rein on her emotions, Eliza didn't cry again, but she doubted that Lorenzo noticed. His face carved in granite, he hardly looked at her. And that, she decided, was for the best. Because if he'd shown the slightest interest in her feelings, if he'd spoken just once about the loving they'd shared, she was sure she would have made a complete fool of herself.

  He however, didn't seem any more inclined to talk about the intimacy they'd shared than she did. When he did speak to her, he restricted the conversation to impersonal topics like the weather and traffic and highway construction.

  Her heart hurting, Eliza was relieved when they finally reached Denver. The tears that had threatened all day were back, and she didn't know how much longer she was going to be able to keep them at bay. Wishing he would hurry, she just wanted the goodbyes to be over with so she could go home and cry in peace.

  But it wasn't quite that easy. She couldn't just drop him at the curb outside the airport entrance and drive away. As much as she was hurting, she just couldn't be that cold. And there were details to be taken care of.

  "What do you want to do about the truck?" she asked as they parked and walked into the airport. "I can sell it for you, if you like, and send the money to Montebello."

  "Thanks, but that's not necessary," he said coolly. "I'm sure the king would rather have it donated to charity. I'll sign the title and have someone pick it up at your apartment tomorrow... if that's all right with you."

  "That's fine," she assured him in a tone that was as polite as his. "I'm going to hate to see it go though. I'll continue the search in Montana, of course. I'm sure the king will have someone over at the palace contact me with the details of where I meet whoever is taking over for you. When the prince is found and I've finished the feature, I'll send you a copy."

  So this was the way it was going to end, Lorenzo thought bitterly. He should have expected as much. All this time, she'd been with him for one reason, and one reason only— the story. She was a reporter, for God's sake! How the hell had he allowed himself to forget that? From the very beginning, she'd made it clear that the only thing she wanted was an exclusive. Now that he couldn't help her with her precious feature anymore, she was moving on to the next man who could help her with a headline, and kissing him goodbye.

  Hell, he fumed silently, what the devil was he thinking? He wasn't even getting a handshake, let alone a kiss. And that hurt—more than he'd ever dreamed possible—and that only infuriated him. Had anything they'd done together over the past few weeks meant anything to her other than a headline?

  Don't ask, a voice in his head advised. You don't want to know.

  His own pride coming to his rescue, he was as cool as she when he said, "Good. I look forward to reading it." Overhead, a bored female voice announced the boarding of his flight, and as far as Lorenzo was concerned, it wasn't a moment too soon. "Well, there's my flight," he said. "I've got to go."

  His luggage had already been checked; there was nothing to do but show the flight attendant his ticket. Afraid he would say too much if he said a single word to Eliza, he nodded briefly, then boarded the plane. And that, he thought grimly, was that.

  Long after he disappeared from view and the plane pulled away from the gate, Eliza stood where she was, pain lancing her heart. He would come back, she told herself, swallowing a sob. Despite the king's order, he would find a way to return and take up the search again.. .so they could be together again. He wouldn't just leave her this way.

  But even as she tried to convince herself that this was all some horrible mistake, his plane raced down the runway and rose gracefully into the air. Seconds later, it disappeared into the cold winter sky. It wasn't until she finally turned and headed back to the truck that she realized she was crying.

  How she made it back to her apartment safely, she never knew. Tears kept welling in her eyes, blurring her vision, and more than once, she had trouble staying in her lane. At least three drivers honked at her, and one actually rolled down his window and called her a few choice names. She didn't care.

  And the situation didn't get any better when she got home and began unpacking her suitcase. Somehow, his scent surrounded her, cruelly teasing her, breaking her heart. And every time she looked out her front window, she saw his truck in her parking space. She'd lost him forever, she thought, sobbing. Giving in to the pain, she collapsed on the couch and buried her face in a pillow. Hour
s later, long after the apartment complex had quieted down for the night, she was still crying.

  * * *

  In spite of the fact that he had traveled all over the world, Lorenzo was, at heart, a homebody. He supposed his need to have his own space and things around him came from the fact that he'd lost the only home he'd ever known after his parents died and he'd gone to live with the king and queen in the palace. Oh, Marcus and Gwendolyn had done everything they could to make him as comfortable at the palace as possible, and he would always love them for that, but it had never felt like home. Nothing had until he'd bought a villa on a cliff by the sea several years ago.

  Small only by palace standards, it had arched windows that looked out onto the endless blue of the Mediterranean, an overgrown garden that called to his spirit whenever he was restless, and none of the hustle and bustle that accompanied life in the palace. It was here that he found peace just by walking through the front door.

  Until he returned from America.

  He went home to change before presenting himself to the king at the palace, and for the first time, he was lonely in his own home. The echo of his own footsteps mocked him as he strode through the familiar rooms. The housecleaning service he paid to keep the place neat for him had done a thorough cleaning while he was gone, but the place was as pristine as a suite at the Ritz hotel. It lacked warmth and vitality, and with a muttered curse, Lorenzo switched on the stereo, hoping to infuse some life into the house. It didn't help.

  For the first time since he'd bought the place, it seemed cold and empty.

  Because of Eliza.

  He missed her.

  His heart aching, he told himself to get a grip. They were history; whatever they'd shared was gone forever and the sooner he accepted that, the better. It never would have worked anyway. His life was here. She belonged in America.

  He knew that, accepted it.. .and couldn't for the life of him understand why he felt like she belonged there, in his house. She'd never been there; she didn't even know that he lived apart from the palace. Yet everywhere he looked, he saw her. The deep blue of the sea that glistened from every window in the house was the exact color of her eyes. He stepped out onto the patio and though he knew his imagination was playing tricks on him, he could have sworn that he could hear her voice on the breeze, calling him softly.