Fortune's Prince

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “I told you, I’m not letting you take my child away from here.”

  “Actually, to be specific,” her tone cooled, “you said you weren’t going to let another man raise your child.”

  He slowly pushed the chair back into the table. “What did I tell you about pulling that royal face with me?”

  A jolt shot through her from her head to her toes.

  She wisely took that step back after all, only to find her spine against the countertop. “I’m not pulling anything,” she attempted reasonably. “I’m not saying I intend to return to the UK permanently.”

  “You want to go back, you can go. After we visit the justice of the peace.”

  “I don’t have the choice of a minister anymore?” Her smart question fell flat and she exhaled. “At least you seem to believe me about James,” she muttered.

  He snorted. “Honey, I don’t give a goddamn anymore if you were engaged to the man for real.” He stepped up to her and pressed his palm flat against her abdomen. “The second you told me you’re pregnant with my kid, that no longer mattered.”

  She braced herself against the shudder that rippled through her.

  He angled his head toward hers. But all he did was speak softly next to her ear. “I may not be some fancy-pants future earl with money and connections, but there is no way on this earth I will let my child grow up without me.” He suddenly straightened and dragged his palm upward until it was pressed flat between her breasts. Then he spread his fingers, rubbing them pointedly over the stab of her nipple through the white fabric. “I’ll use every advantage I’ve got.”

  She couldn’t very well deny the fact that she was weak where he was concerned. She’d slept with the man after only a few dances, something she’d never once been remotely tempted to do even though she’d been squired around by suitable matches since she was sixteen.

  But neither could he hide the fact that he was equally aroused by her.

  “Is that a threat?” she asked evenly. “Or a promise?”

  His eyes darkened. “Don’t pull an animal’s tail, princess. Even the most patient one’ll eventually turn on you.”

  The man who’d counted stars on a magical April night with her was the same one who was building a tree house, and the same one who was standing here now, she reminded herself, and she lifted her chin.

  “You already turned on me,” she reminded boldly. “When I didn’t immediately deny the engagement stories.” Her heart was thundering so hard in her chest he couldn’t fail to notice. “And whether that was wrong or not, you obviously didn’t care about me as much as I’d believed, or you wouldn’t have mistrusted me as easily as you did. And you still don’t trust me, only this time it’s because you think I’ll take your child away from you.”

  Instead of trying to pull away, she leaned into him until her breasts were pressed against his chest, his hand caught between them. “I am not your ex-wife,” she said evenly. “No matter what you thought, or still think for that matter, I didn’t betray you with anyone. And I have no intention of keeping you from being this baby’s father.” She went onto her toes until her mouth was only inches from his. “Using sex,” she whispered slowly, “still isn’t going to make me agree to a loveless marriage.”

  Then, taking advantage of the fact that he’d gone still as a statue, she shimmied out from between him and the cabinet and deliberately lowered her gaze to the hard length of him clearly evident behind his zipper. “Now, are we going to my aunt’s for dinner, or do you have something else in mind?”

  His eyes narrowed until only a greenish-brown sliver showed. His jaw flexed. And for a breathless moment that seemed to last an eternity, she was afraid he would call her bluff.

  But he finally moved and the sound of his boot against the tile floor seemed loud. “Be glad there’s hardly any food in the fridge,” he said, and pulled open the kitchen door, stomping outside.

  Her shoulders sank and she brushed her hair behind her shoulders with shaking fingers.

  “You waiting for a pumpkin carriage or something?” he called from outside.

  She pressed her lips together, lifted her chin and joined him.

  * * *

  Deke and Jeanne Marie’s place was so packed inside with people when Quinn and Amelia arrived that, at first, their entrance wasn’t even noticed.

  But then Piper, half crawling and half walking, latched on to Amelia’s leg and she chuckled, picking up the little girl and stepping into the crowd of family, leaving Quinn behind.

  He couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from her. The shirt she was wearing hugged her lithe torso like a lover, and the skirt was just as guilty around her narrow waist and slender hips. It hardly seemed possible that she was sheltering a baby inside her.

  “You going to stand there and drool or do you want a beer?” Liam stood beside him looking amused.

  Quinn took the beer bottle and twisted it open. He nodded toward Liam’s younger brother, Christopher, who seemed to be holding court in the middle of the parlor, his arm around a pretty blonde. “Guess your family’s going to be having a lot of weddings in the near future.”

  Julia, Liam’s fiancée, tucked herself under Liam’s arm. “We might have to draw dates out of a hat,” she said humorously. But then she looked stricken, looking from Quinn’s face to Amelia and back again.

  He pretended not to notice.

  All of Jeanne Marie and Deke’s offspring were engaged except for Galen and Delaney. The oldest and the youngest. And Toby, as well. He and Angie had already gotten hitched.

  He finally managed to pull his gaze away from the swell of Amelia’s hips where she’d pulled the hem of her snug T-shirt over the long, flowing skirt. As a teenager, he’d always been more preoccupied with the front of a woman.

  But the perfect sweep of Amelia’s back, nipping into her waist then flaring out again was enough to bring him to his knees.

  He chugged a little more beer. The front door was open, but the room was still too warm thanks to all the bodies. He asked the first thing he could think of. “Toby and Angie get their adoption approved yet?”

  “Not yet.” Almost absently, Liam brushed his lips against Julia’s forehead as he looked over at his middle brother. He was sitting on the couch with Kylie on his knee, watching over the checker game that Brian and Justin were playing.

  Quinn hadn’t been around the Hemings kids all that much, but it was the quietest he’d ever seen them. “Never thought adoption proceedings took this long. Toby was already taking care of them for months before he filed.”

  “I don’t think all adoptions have the challenges that Toby and Angie have had,” Julia murmured.

  “You’d think learning we’re Fortune-connected would have made it easier,” Liam added, even though Quinn could remember a time when his buddy hadn’t been remotely thrilled about that particular connection. He’d been suspicious the Fortunes were invading Horseback Hollow, throwing their moneyed weight around and making too many changes. “Instead, the social worker’s got some bug about the kids’ safety because of it.”

  Christopher joined them, holding Kinsley’s hand. “Yeah, well, there’ve been times over the years when being a Fortune was sort of like having a target painted on your chest. The stories I learned while I was in Red Rock—” He pursed his lips and blew. “Lot of history there. Some serious stuff.”

  “That was years ago,” Liam dismissed.

  “Tell that to Gabriella,” Julia reminded. “She only came to Horseback Hollow to take care of her dad after his plane accident. And those anonymous letters to the post office, saying it wasn’t an accident? That it was sabotage and the Fortunes were the target and not Mr. Mendoza at all?” She made a face. “You’d think people around here would be grateful your cousin Sawyer and his wife opened their flight school and charter service in Horseback
Hollow instead of somewhere else. I’m sure the investigators will get to the bottom of things, but what a horrible business.”

  “You gonna let that scare you off of marrying me? My mama’s a Fortune, too,” Liam goaded lightly, clearly not afraid of any such thing.

  Julia’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, no,” she assured. “You’re not getting off the matrimonial hook, mister, any more than Jude is with Gabi.”

  Quinn sucked down half the beer. Everyone around him seemed as happy as pigs wallowing in mud. He wished he found it revolting.

  Instead he just found it...enviable.

  His gaze strayed back to Amelia. She was perched on the arm of her aunt’s chair, still holding Piper on her lap and trying to untangle the kid’s fingers from her long hair.

  She couldn’t be accustomed to gatherings like this. Nearly twenty people jammed into the front parlor of an old ranch house. The night they’d spent together she’d told him about the huge house where she’d grown up. The servants. The carefully orchestrated public functions.

  What reason would be strong enough to keep her in Texas when she had ancestral lands and a family estate and God knew what else waiting for her back home?

  It wasn’t love.

  She’d already said as much. No loveless marriages for her.

  One small sliver of his mind kept listening to the conversation around him.

  “Has Toby been able to find out who made that donation to him yet?” someone asked.

  “Don’t think he cares. That anonymous money’ll go a long way to raising those kids. There’s enough for college funds even.”

  “Must be nice,” Quinn murmured. Generally speaking, there weren’t too many packed into that parlor who’d been able to go to college at all. Or, like him, they’d had to scrimp and save and pray for every scholarship that came their way.

  Not Amelia, though.

  She’d gone to the finest schools that her family’s money and position could buy.

  Through no effort of his, her baby—his baby—would never want for anything.

  He’d finished his beer and needing escape he excused himself, heading into the kitchen that was nearly as congested as the parlor. Jeanne Marie was at the center of things, giving out orders to her helpers with the precision of a master sergeant. She caught his eye with a smile as he continued right on through until he’d escaped out the back where Deke and Galen were hanging over the opened hood of an old pickup truck.

  He joined them. “You still trying to keep this old thing running, eh?”

  “Never get rid of something that still works.” Deke’s hands were covered in grease as he worked.

  “Works being the operative word here,” Galen said wryly. His hands weren’t quite as filthy as his dad’s but they were close. Quinn still shook the man’s hand when he stuck it out, then propped his elbows on the side of the truck to watch them tinker.

  “Guess that reporter girl has been making the rounds in town,” Galen said. “Has she found her way out to the Rocking-U yet?”

  Quinn grimaced. “Don’t expect her to. She only knew to find Amelia here because it’s no secret Jeanne’s her aunt.” He absently grabbed a hose that Deke couldn’t quite reach and held it in place.

  “What’s going on between you two?” Deke pinned Quinn with a look. “Jeanne Marie’s real fond of that gal. Do I need to ask your intentions?”

  Galen laughed silently and lifted his hands up. “Good luck, bro. I’m outta here.” He turned on his heel and strode away.

  Deke’s brows rose. “Well?”

  “You don’t need to ask,” he said flatly.

  “Recognize the side of my own house when I see it,” the other man said.

  He damned the heat rising in his neck. “Jeanne know about the photo, too?”

  The other man’s eyebrow rose. “Who d’ya think showed it to me?”

  Quinn grimaced. “She’s not engaged to that other guy.”

  “Heard that, too. Amelia ’fessed up on that score to Jeanne Marie right off,” he added at Quinn’s surprised look.

  “She comes from a different world,” Quinn said after a moment.

  “Yup,” Deke agreed, drawing out the word. He scratched his cheek, leaving behind a streak of black. “You worried about that?”

  Quinn started to deny it but the older man’s steady gaze wouldn’t let him. “Yes, sir.”

  “Yeah.” Deke’s piercing gaze finally flicked past Quinn to look at the house behind them. “Jeanne Marie coulda bought anything her heart desired if she’d kept that money her brother wanted to give her. Clothes. New car. New furniture. Coulda travelled around the world a dozen times and stayed in the fanciest hotels there are. Hard to figure why a woman wouldn’t care about those things but she says she doesn’t.” He pursed his lips for a second and scratched his cheek again.

  “Deke Jones!”

  They both looked back to see Jeanne Marie hanging out the screen door. “You get your hands outta that rust bucket and wash up for supper!”

  Deke straightened and wiped his hands on a thin red rag he pulled from the back pocket of his jeans. He smiled a little at Quinn and tossed the rag to him. “All comes down to trust,” he said and headed toward the house.

  It was easy for Deke to trust Jeanne, Quinn thought, wiping his hands and following. They’d been married longer than he’d been alive.

  The first time he’d set eyes on Amelia had been six months ago. And he could count on his fingers how many actual days they’d spent together in the time since.

  He pulled open the screen door and went inside. Jeanne Marie was smiling up into Deke’s face, rubbing a dish towel over the black streak on the man’s weathered cheek. “What am I going to do with you?” he heard her murmuring.

  “Don’t you want to be like them after forty years together?”

  Startled, Quinn found Stacey and Colton standing behind him and he realized her words had been for her fiancé. He gave them a dry look.

  “Considering the two of you can’t look at each other without a besotted expression on your face, I’d say your chances are pretty good,” Quinn said.

  Colton chuckled and Stacey smirked, jerking her chin toward the doorway opening up to the dining room where Amelia was standing, talking to her cousin Jude and Gabriella. “Get out a mirror whenever you’re looking her way,” Stacey suggested smartly.

  “Dishes, dishes,” Jeanne Marie called out. “If you are standing in this kitchen, and your hands are empty, then grab something and take it into the dining room,” she ordered. “Meal’s not going to get onto the table by itself!”

  Quinn grabbed the closest thing—a basket of fragrant, yeasty rolls—and escaped into the dining room.

  They’d had to set up folding card tables on either end of the actual dining room table to accommodate everyone but they were covered with tablecloths. None of them matched. Some had colorful flowers stitched on the corners. Some didn’t. But they were all crisply ironed and Quinn had a sudden memory of the way his mom had stood at an ironing board doing just the same thing before every Thanksgiving and every Christmas. The plates weren’t all matching, either, nor were the glasses, but they were Jeanne’s best.

  She had all of her family home and it was obvious that she was celebrating that fact with all the finery she had.

  She bustled in to the crowded room, pointing and directing and soon everyone’s butt was in their designated chair. Deke at the head of the pushed-together tables. Jeanne Marie at the opposite.

  Quinn and Amelia were situated midway down, next to each other. The chairs—another mixture of real dining room chairs, folding chairs and even the picnic table bench from outdoors—made for cozy seating, and there was barely two inches to spare between them and that, only because Amelia was as narrow and slender as she was.

 
Deke said the blessing and the dishes started passing. Quinn was relieved to see Amelia pile on the food for once. She was too thin as it was, and now she was eating for two. And fortunately, there were so many simultaneous conversations going on that nobody seemed to notice the fact that they were barely participating.

  Her arm brushed his when they both reached for the cucumber salad at the same time and she quickly drew back. “Excuse me.”

  He grabbed the bowl and held it for her. “Go ahead.”

  Her gaze flicked over his, then away again. She scooped some of the salad onto her plate. “I feel like a glutton,” she murmured as she handed him the handle of the serving spoon.

  “It’s about time you’re finally eating more than a few bites.” He dumped some of the cucumber and onion mixture on his plate. His mom made the same thing every time he visited her in Dallas. “Were you the one who gave that money to Toby for the kids?” He kept his voice low so only she would hear.

  She blinked, looking genuinely surprised. “No.” She looked across and down the tables. Toby’s brood was surrounding one of the folding tables, with him and Angie on either side.

  Supervising referees, he figured.

  “Even if I’d wanted, I don’t personally have that kind of money,” she said quietly. “From what Aunt Jeanne told me, it was quite a large sum. It wasn’t my mum, either. Aunt Jeanne asked her outright.”

  “How much money do you have?”

  She let out a soft sound and gave him another quick look. “Why are you asking?”

  He just eyed her. “Why do you think?”

  Her soft lips compressed. “This is hardly the time, Quinn.”

  “Preacher or justice of the peace?” He waited a beat. “If you can’t make up your mind, we could put it out for a vote right here. See what everyone else has to say.”

  Beneath the edge of the starchy white tablecloth, she dug her fingertips into his thigh. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He damned the heat collecting in his gut and closed his hand over her wrist, pushing her hand away. “Don’t tempt me.” The warning worked on all counts. Outing her pregnancy to the entire family all at once. Pulling her hand up to his fly despite sitting in the middle of that very family.