Romancing the Crown Series

by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)

  "With Joe gone, you must be shorthanded," Desmond remarked.

  She shrugged. "Work slows down in the dead of winter. The other hands can take up the slack without any problem."

  "Don't you think it's odd that he would just pick up and leave like that?"

  She held her wineglass to the flames, turning the deep red liquid the color of fire, then took a sip. "I think it's odd that cowboy Joe has the same accent as two handsome, elegant, sophisticated foreigners. I think it's odd that those same two foreigners are so interested in—pardon me, so intrigued by—a supposedly no-account drifter. And I think it's very odd that all this intrigue stirred up about the time the authorities resumed their search for that missing prince from Montebello, who, as luck would have it, looks amazingly like the missing Joe."

  Of all the timings she'd said, he responded to the one she'd least expected. "Do you think I'm handsome?"

  Her laughter was sudden and unexpected, too. "As if you don't know the answer to that, Desmond."

  "I know most people's answer. I'm asking for yours."

  She set her empty soup howl away, brushed cracker crumbs from her sweater, then leaned against the stone hearth. "I think you're incredibly handsome. I also think you've come here under false pretenses, and I know that I'd rather hear the truth from you than lies."

  Any other man might have taken offense at that lies comment, but not Desmond. He reclined on the floor, his weight resting on his left arm, one knee bent, and he studied her a moment before nodding. "Very well. I have reason to believe—as you do, too—that your drifter, Joe, is, in reality, Prince Lucas of Montebello."

  "And you've come to take him home, right? I imagine the king would pay quite a pretty penny to the person who could do that." Though she watched him closely, the only expression that crossed his face was one of studied indifference. "Of course, first you have to find him, and that's easier said than done, especially if he doesn't want to be found. What kind of reward do you think the king would offer?"

  He negligently shrugged and named a figure that made her little heart go pitter-patter. But right on the heels of the adrenaline rush came the thought that if Prince Lucas was worth so much. to his father alive, how much more would his only child be worth if the prince was dead?

  More than she could imagine—and, honey, she could imagine a lot.

  "So if we found Joe—er, Prince Lucas—and took him home, we would receive a reward big enough to share." Sharing wasn't a concept she'd ever willingly embraced. Her philosophy was What's mine is mine and what's yours just might become mine, too. But in this case she'd be willing to make an effort … or, at least, to pretend.

  "Your portion would be so much that you wouldn't know what to do with it."

  She subdued the unladylike snort that tried to escape. Obviously he didn't know who he was talking to. All her life she'd wanted and needed great sums of money, and she'd never gotten them, not all she needed, not always when she needed them. Even she wouldn't venture a guess on how much she could spend before she started running out of ideas. A half million? Two, four, maybe even ten times that amount?

  So … she could work with Desmond to return the prince and share a reward that was sizable, but not enough. Or she could work with him until they found the prince, then find some way to cut him out of the picture and keep the entire reward for herself. Or she could go along and get along, and gradually sway him to what she considered the best outcome—find the prince, remove him from this life, then show up in Montebello with her poor orphaned nephew. That would ensure her a lifetime of riches as the prince and future king's only living maternal relative.

  Tough questions … not.

  She removed her shoes and set them aside, then stretched out one leg and lazily drew her stockinged foot back and forth over the fine fabric of his trousers that covered his calf. "Tell me, Desmond—are you interested in a partnership?"

  His dark gaze started with the delicate waves in her honeyed blond hair, then slowly, moved steadily downward, pausing on the perfect 36 Ds Gardner had paid a small fortune for, sliding over her middle and her perfect hips, the results of hours of aerobics, the StairMaster, Buns of Steel and liposuction. When he'd reached her manicured Marvy Mauve toes, he smiled a smile with the potential to make her swoon even if he wasn't handsome, elegant, sophisticated and connected to the Montebellan royal family.

  "Always, Ursula." If her question had been asked in a sex-kitten purr, it was answered in a hungry-dangerous-tiger rumble. His long, thin fingers wrapped around her wrist and jerked her to him, and his sensuous mouth hovered a mere inch from hers. "Why don't we finalize the details of this partnership?" he asked, his lips brushing hers with every word. "Then we can talk about finding the prince."

  And then he kissed her—hard, greedy, demanding—as he drew her to the floor. As his hands slid under her sweater and freed her breasts from her delicate lavender lace bra, a line from an old song echoed through her mind.

  Two tickets to paradise…

  * * *

  According to Tyler's calculations, their late Sunday afternoon trip from Garden City to Golden should have taken two hours and thirty minutes. But his estimate hadn't included an unscheduled stop off an isolated back road or testing the SUV's cargo area for comfort, so they arrived in Golden later than planned. They checked into a motel, went out to dinner, then spent a quiet evening in their room—quiet being relative, of course.

  But Monday morning, it was back to business as usual. He was damn tired of showing the prince's picture, asking the same questions time after time and hearing the same answers. Even more than the frustration, he disliked the effect negative response after negative response had on Anna. Though she hadn't been any too cheerful when they left the motel that morning, by late afternoon, when they called it quits, she was downright morose.

  When they returned to the motel, she laid her coat across the bed, then sat down at the small round table. After removing his own jacket, he went to stand behind her, rubbing her shoulders with firm, tension-easing strokes. "We're going to find your brother."

  She removed the photograph of Lucas from her purse and gazed at it. "Do you think so? Really, honestly?"

  "Really." But he lied. Truth was, he didn't know what to think. If this Joe from Colorado really was Prince Lucas, he couldn't have just disappeared. Thanks to the renewed search for him, his face had been in the papers and on the news on a regular basis, so surely someone would have recognized him. Just last night they'd caught a film clip on the evening news of Lucas at some royal event a few years ago. He'd been smiling and charming, escorting the most popular Hollywood actress at that time and, at the end of the clip, dancing his youngest sister, Princess Anna, around the ballroom floor. Her hair had been done up in some sleek, sophisticated style that completely obliterated her curls, and she'd worn a gown that sparkled like a million stars, a strapless thing that clung to her breasts, her waist, her hips. She'd looked so glamorous and beautiful that, if Tyler hadn't already been hard, thanks to the very intimate kisses she'd been giving him at the time, he would have become that way instantly.

  He hadn't been able to get that image of her out of his mind. She'd looked … well, like a princess.

  And he was just an average schmuck from Arizona.

  "Why haven't we found even the smallest clue? If he truly came to Montana to find work in one of these mines, why has no one seen him?"

  "Maybe because he didn't come here." Maybe Ursula Chambers had been mistaken. Maybe Joe or Lucas or whoever the hell he was had deliberately misled her. Or maybe she had deliberately misled Lorenzo.

  "But if he's not at the ranch in Colorado, and he didn't come here, then where is he? And how shall we ever find him?"

  "We just keep trying, babe. We don't give up."

  "You can't ask the people in every town in America if they've seen my brother."

  "No," he admitted. "But we'll do what we can."

  She let her head fall forward, and for a time th
e only sound in the room was her soft groans of pleasure as he moved his attention to the taut muscles in her neck. Before long, though, she spoke again. "When you go to Colorado, I'd like to go with you."

  His first impulse was to tell her no. Letting her traipse around Montana with him was reckless enough. But how was taking her to the small Colorado town of Shady Rock any more reckless than dragging her around Garden City and Golden? What kind of threat could they possibly run into there that didn't also exist here?

  Besides, he intended to leave for Colorado the next afternoon or Wednesday morning. If he didn't let her go, he would have to put her on a plane to Billings, where sooner or later Christina would put her on the Gulfstream back to Montebello. He might not see her again for weeks, even months. When he did see her again, her life would be back to normal. She would once again be Princess Anna, living in the palace, attending royal functions, surrounded by adoring subjects. Her adventure would be over.

  Along with whatever she felt for him?

  "All right," be agreed selfishly, because he wasn't ready to let her go yet and because she rewarded him with such a pretty smile that he couldn't resist teasing her. "You didn't expect that, did you?"

  "Actually, no. I assumed I would have to find some way to outwit you again, as I did in Billings."

  "Darlin', you've been outwitting me at every turn. It's because you're so damn beautiful that most of the time around you I'm dazed and confused."

  "Hah. You've been most competent. I had begun to doubt my appeal for rugged American men. After all, I'm neither blond nor blue-eyed nor busty."

  He studied her a moment, then asked, "Why would you want to be? I'm partial to dark brown curls, brown eyes and small, nicely rounded breasts perfectly sized for my hands." Sliding his hands down her front, he proved that her breasts were, in fact, perfect and, in the process, made her eyes go smoky and dark.

  For a moment she let him have his fun. Then she caught his hands, held them away and solemnly gazed up at him. "Tyler, I—" Abruptly she broke off—not as if she couldn't find the words for what she'd wanted to say, but as if she couldn't find the courage. What could make her so serious? Another thank-you for letting her scam everyone and accompany him? Maybe a thank-you for finally giving in and making love to her? How about a reminder that she'd promised him nothing—no future beyond this trip, no possibilities, no love?

  Whatever it was, the moment passed. With a sheepish smile, she pressed a kiss to each of his palms, then escaped his hold. "I'd like to freshen up before dinner. It'll take only a minute."

  He stood where he was until the bathroom door closed behind her, then forced a lightness into his voice that, according to his reflection in the nearby mirror, he didn't manage in his expression. "Only a minute," he said, loud enough to be heard through the door. "Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before."

  The door opened and her balled-up sweater sailed across the room in his direction. He caught it, along with a whiff of her perfume, and his chest tightened. Maybe he should take back his agreement to let her go to Shady Rock with him If she was going to break his heart, didn't it stand to reason that the sooner it happened, the sooner he would get used to the pain? And if she wasn't going to break it—if she intended when she said goodbye to add something like I love you or Please come see me—then the sooner he knew that, the better, right?

  Maybe.

  He used the remote to turn on the television, then stretched out on the bed. Might as well make himself comfortable while he waited … or as comfortable as a coward could get. What if she was waiting for him to say something like I love you or I don't want you to go? What if she needed some assurance she wasn't making a fool of herself and risking unbearable hurt?

  He was a soldier, trained to protect and defend. He'd undergone rigorous physical as well as mental training. He was prepared to successfully complete his mission, no matter what it took. Death, danger, destruction—all in a day's work. And yet he was afraid of the devastation one slender, impossibly beautiful, delicate little princess could wreak on him.

  Jeez, if it was this tough for everybody, it was a surprise anyone risked falling in love.

  Eventually she care out of the bathroom again. She'd changed into her University of Montana sweatshirt and, presumably, had done something with her hair and makeup. He wasn't sure. She'd looked gorgeous going in and looked gorgeous coming out.

  They walked to a restaurant across the street and down a block. The sign outside advertised home cooking, and the menu supported it. Fried chicken, chicken and dumplings, meat loaf, pork chops and liver and onions topped the menu, and it promised some pretty damn amazing-looking pies for dessert. Anna requested a typical American picnic lunch, then had to explain to the puzzled waitress that meant fried chicken, potato salad and baked beans. Tyler settled on chicken and dumplings that were made the way his mother made them, and when they were done, they each ordered a slice of banana cream pie with mile-high meringue.

  The waitress had just delivered the pie when a man approached their booth. Tyler figured the guy was in his early twenties, several inches shorter than him, probably twenty pounds lighter. His hair was blond, his eyes an unlikely blue, and he was just a shade too … something for Tyler's liking.

  "I understand you two are asking a lot of questions around town about some guy that's missing," the man said, looking from one to the other. "I heard you had a picture and was wondering if I could see it."

  Anna automatically reached for her handbag, but Tyler bumped his leg against hers to get her attention, then gave a faint shake of his head. He withdrew his own copy of the same photo from his jacket pocket and wordlessly handed it to the man.

  He studied it a moment, then nodded emphatically. "Yeah, that's the guy. I thought it probably was."

  "You've seen—"

  Once again Tyler signaled for Anna to be quiet, and she immediately closed her mouth. She couldn't contain the hope that flared in her eyes, though. She practically shimmered with it. "I'm Tyler Ramsey," he said, leaning forward to offer his hand. As he did so, his sport coat just happened to fall open, giving the stranger a good look at the shoulder holster he wore.

  "Jimmy Drucker." His handshake was weak, his smile phony. "And this beautiful lady is…?"

  "None of your concern. So you think you've seen him." Tyler nodded toward the photograph, and once more the man nodded vigorously.

  "He called himself Joe. Said he'd been working down in Colorado. Got tired of cowboying and decided to give mining a try."

  "Where did you run into him?"

  Drucker looked left and right, then said, "I'll have a seat if you don't mind. Don't want to call too much attention to a private conversation."

  When he moved as if he meant to slide onto the bench next to Anna, Tyler planted his size-twelve boot there. "Pull up a chair."

  With a sly grin, Drucker grabbed a chair from the nearest table and swung it around backwards, then straddled it. "I get your message, Tyler. You wanna keep the pretty little girl all to yourself. Can't say as I blame you."

  "What about Joe?"

  "Joe … yeah. There's this little town not far from here—not much to it besides a few bars and a fleabag motel. That's where I met him … oh, not long ago. We kinda hit it off. I'd done some mining off and on, so he asked me a lot of questions, and truth is, I reckon I kinda turned him off of it. He decided there's better ways to earn a living."

  As, apparently, had Jimmy Drucker, Tyler thought cynically. If the man made it through five more minutes without mentioning money, Tyler would be surprised. "So Joe went off to find work someplace else. You wouldn't happen to know where, would you?"

  Drucker grinned. "As a matter of fact, I'm gettin' to that." But, of course, he didn't. Instead he turned his attention to Anna. "You're sure a pretty little thing. You know … you kinda look like him. Granted, he's older and his eyes are blue, but … yeah, there's a real strong resemblance in your nose and your jaw. He wouldn't happen to be related to you,
now would he?"

  Tyler leaned forward again and rapped the table for his attention. "Let's get this straight, Drucker. You don't sit beside her. You don't talk to her. In fact, it would probably be in your best interests if you don't even look at her. Your business—if you have any—is with me. Understand?"

  The idiot didn't take offense, which roused Tyler's suspicions even more. Instead, he grinned yet again. He was working way too hard to appear friendly and harmless, when Tyler figured he was about as harmless as a snake.

  He didn't like snakes.

  "You were going to tell us where Joe went to find work," he impatiently reminded the man.

  "Well…" For the first time since he'd approached, Drucker's grin disappeared completely and was replaced by a look of chagrin. "I'd like to do just that, but … you know, this has been a tough winter. I got sick, couldn't work, lost my job. Ordinarily, I wouldn't even think of trying to profit from someone else's problems, but … I got some mighty big problems of my own … well, it's customary in cases like this to offer a reward for information."

  "Is it, now," Tyler said disinterestedly. "I'll tell you what, Drucker. You tell me something about Joe that isn't common knowledge, and I'll see what I can do about getting you that reward."

  "I already told you—"

  "Nothing that you couldn't have gotten from any one of the dozens of people we've talked to today."

  "But I told you—" Drucker broke off, looked from Tyler to Anna, then back again, then shrugged. "Okay, here's something you haven't been tellin'. That prissy little girl there is Joe's sister, only his name ain't Joe. It's Lucas. Prince Lucas Sebastiani. One of these days soon that's gonna be King Lucas. And he's worth a fortune."