Her sister's scars had never bothered Alessandra, not even when they'd been fresh and bright red, slashing across her cheek and neck, down into the shoulder of her blouses. But Eloise was incredibly sensitive about them.
She could also be incredibly rude.
"I love Gideon, yes," Alessandra answered.
Eloise picked apart the flaky pastry on her plate. "And I suppose you'll be spending a large amount of time in the States."
Alessandra frowned. She'd spoken to Eloise at-length after she'd arrived back in Glorvaird about her future plans. Eloise had agreed that she could cut back on some of her other events and take on some charity projects for children, ones that were close to her heart.
Was Eloise now thinking Alessandra would shirk her duties?
"We'll be spending some time at Gideon's home. His ranch has busy seasons where he's needed there."
Instead of acting upset, like Alessandra expected, Eloise nodded slowly. "Good. I have a project I need you to take on for me. It's very...sensitive."
Interest piqued, Alessandra leaned forward. "What kind of project?"
Eloise looked almost pained, if Alessandra had pegged her expression correctly. "This..." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and Alessandra had a moment of uncertainty. "Father recently confided in me that there was an infidelity when we were young."
Alessandra sat back in her seat, stunned. Of all the things she might've guessed, that wasn't one of them.
"There was a child. A daughter. Not legitimized, of course." Eloise looked down at the napkin in her lap. Alessandra still couldn't find words.
A sister. A half-sister.
"Her mother moved to America after the birth, and Father kept tabs on them for some time, but then the private investigator he'd hired lost them. Now, Father wants to find the girl. Before..."
Before he died. Alessandra's throat closed up. "I didn't think it was that close."
Eloise shrugged, her eyes on the window across. "The doctors say it might be as little as a year."
It wasn't nearly long enough. Being with Gideon had showed her that she could be brave enough to seek a deeper, reconciled relationship with her father, but... To only have such a limited time left brought a physical pain.
"Of course I'll help in whatever way I can," she said, a little hoarsely.
"I've two different investigators looking into finding her, but perhaps your man might have other contacts that would help."
Alessandra nodded. Her man. Yes, she'd enlist Gideon's help.
She wanted to get back to him now. To tell him of this new development. Talk through her muddled feelings about this revelation.
A sister.
* * *
When she found Gideon in the gardens, he seemed subdued. He glanced over his shoulder from where he stood near a stone bench in the rose arbor, and she saw his face was dark and brows were drawn. As she neared, she saw his suit jacket lying folded across one corner of the bench. And when he turned all the way around, she saw the tie he'd loosened around his neck.
She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "What's the matter?"
She could feel the tension coiled in him, the tightness of his muscles.
"Nothing." His arms came around her upper back. He leaned back slightly, to better look into her face. "How was your sister?"
"Fine. I've got something to talk to you about." She squeezed his waist. "Later." And raised her face for his kiss.
He obliged her for a sweet kiss, but pulled away too soon.
"Something is the matter," she said with a slightly exaggerated moue. She reached up with one hand to touch his face, resting her palm against his cheek gently brushing with her thumb.
"No. I'm just...nervous."
"Nervous?" Her Gideon? Not likely. He broke their embrace and motioned for her to sit on the bench.
She humored him, perching on the edge of the cool stone. The scent of roses surrounded them and made the moment impossibly romantic. He stood tall, and she craned her neck to look up at him. One hand rested in his trouser pocket.
"I had everything planned perfectly for tonight, but...I don't think I can wait."
Then he dropped to one knee, and her stomach dipped. He reached for her with his empty hand, as his opposite hand brought a small black box out of his pocket. All her swirling thoughts stopped.
So did her breath.
"Alessandra, I love you. I can't imagine my life without you in it. Would you do me the honor of marrying me?"
She squeezed his hand tightly as tears blurred her vision. She blinked them back. "I love you, too. And...I'm so sorry to ruin your moment, but have you spoken to my father?"
One corner of his mouth tilted up. "Just this morning."
Her breathing eased. "And...? What did he say?"
"He gave his blessing."
She threw her arms around Gideon's neck, almost toppling them both. "Thank God."
She peppered his face with kisses until he took her lips in a breath-stealing kiss. When they were both breathing hard, he pulled away and settled on the bench next to her.
"So that's a yes." It wasn't really a question, not the way he said it, slightly arrogant and more than a little relieved.
She leaned into his shoulder, watching as he pried open the black jeweler's box. "I would've married you anyway, without Father's blessing, but this makes it better..." Her thoughts, her words cut off as she caught sight of the ring. "Gideon..."
A large, sparkling diamond winked up at her, sunlight casting rainbows around it on Gideon's hands.
"It's too much." She didn't know the exact price tag, but a diamond like that must've cost his last two years' profits.
He cleared his throat. "I know we come from very different worlds, and I may never fit completely into yours, but I wanted to give you something fit for a princess."
He slipped it onto her finger, the metal cool against her skin. And because she was watching so closely, she noticed that his fingers were trembling.
She laced their fingers together, twisting the tangle of fingers to admire the darker tan of his skin against hers, and the sparkle of the ring.
"I love you," she said, looking into his dear face. "And I'm honored to be able to spend the rest of my life with you."
He steadied himself with a minute straightening of his shoulders, and she knew she'd said the right thing. Gideon might show the world a tough soldier, but she was the one who got to see the real man behind the facade.
That was the real treasure she valued. Gideon's heart.
Cowboy Charming
Prologue
Fourteen-year-old Ethan Townsend stood next to his dad's hospital bed, shaking.
Terminal.
His thoughts circled like the wheels on his bike when he rode really fast. Wasn't a terminal part of the airport? Somewhere you went to check in for your flight? Not a diagnosis.
His dad was dying.
He nervously picked at the sheet that covered Dad's lower half. Dad reached out and clasped Ethan's hand.
How long had it been since Dad held his hand? His thoughts spun faster. The last time he could remember, he'd been ten, and his best friend had snubbed him in Cub Scouts.
Back then, Dad's hand was warm and rough, calloused from the work he did on the family-owned dairy farm.
Now Dad's skin was cool and clammy.
"I know it's hard, but I need you to be brave."
He couldn't look at his father, not yet. He stared through the half-open hospital-room door. His stepmother, Carol, stood in the hallway, sobbing silently into her hands.
How could Dad expect him to be brave? He was just a kid.
His jaw wobbled, and he clamped it tight, trying to keep the emotion he was bottling from spilling over.
"It's okay to cry, Ethan."
Dad tugged him closer, and he climbed into bed, curling up against his father the same way he had when he'd been five and they'd lost Mom.
"Don't ever let anyone te
ll you it's not okay to cry."
And he felt Dad's tears fall on his head.
Later, when they'd both cried themselves out, Dad let Ethan stay next to him in the bed.
"The dairy will provide for you and Carol and the boys. But with me gone, Robbie and Sam will need you to show them how to be real men."
He could barely think about his stepbrothers. Could barely think about the lessons Dad had taught him, usually when tossing a football around in the backyard.
Dad was supposed to be here to watch him start on the JV football team this fall.
He wasn't supposed to die.
Dad ruffled Ethan's hair when tears threatened again. "You've got your mother's courage." Dad's voice was rough, like he was close to tears, too. "Don't ever lose it."
* * *
Nineteen-year-old Ethan clutched the envelope in his hand, making the half-mile walk from the mailbox to the single-wide mobile home on the dairy farm. Two years ago, Carol had sold the house in town, and they'd been forced to move into this little trailer. He'd been born in that house. It held his memories of Mom and Dad.
Now, he slept on the living-room sofa while Robbie and Sam shared one of the two bedrooms. Carol had the other.
He'd been waiting for weeks for this envelope. It was going to be his ticket out of here.
The envelope was made from thick paper. Nice paper. Embossed with the university crest. And inside was his acceptance letter. He'd gotten in, even though he'd had to delay a year to help Carol make ends meet on the dairy.
She wasn't going to be happy he was leaving. But this was his chance to get the education he'd dreamed of since before his dad had died. He'd even been awarded a scholarship.
As he crested the slight rise leading up to the trailer and barn, shouts met his ears and drew his head up.
Eleven-year-old Robbie ran toward him, shouting. His expression was panic-stricken.
Ethan would've dismissed it as one of his stepbrothers' many pranks—always at his expense—except for the tears streaming down Robbie's face.
"It's Mom!"
Two hours later, Ethan sat in the hospital waiting room between his stepbrothers. The same numbness he'd felt after his dad's death had stolen over him, though to a lesser degree. He hadn't loved Carol. She'd given him a roof over his head and—most of the time—three meals a day. But she'd also expected a lot of him. He'd been running the dairy since he was sixteen. He'd never gotten to play JV football, or varsity. When he wasn't working the dairy, she'd expected him to maintain the trailer and the yard—though Robbie was old enough now to run the push mower.
Before he'd turned sixteen, she'd fired two managers, run up her credit card bills, and lost so much revenue that she'd been forced to sell off most of the land and a number of the producing cows. Which meant that no matter what he did, they barely eked out a living. If they ever had extra, she spent it on new clothes for her and the boys.
Ethan wore secondhand clothes from the Goodwill store. Just as well, since he was usually up to his knees in muck.
College was supposed to be his ticket out, but the doctor had just delivered the worst news possible.
Carol was gone.
The boys had no other relatives.
Which meant there was no one else to look after them. He was their closest relative.
Looking down at them now, Robbie at eleven, and Sam at ten, Ethan remembered what it had felt like when Dad died. How could he abandon them to the system?
He couldn't.
1
Six years later
Princess Mia, third in line for the crown of Glorvaird, stood in the shade of a big, red Texas barn and watched a real cattle operation.
The October sun warmed everything, baking the brown grasses in the fields and the cowboys working there. But the wind carried a distinct chill that had her shivering in her jean jacket. She was used to mild, rainy weather in the coastal kingdom of Glorvaird, but this dry wind was new and made her nose itch.
She'd traveled to the States a few times before on royal business, but always to one of the bigger cities. New York. L.A. This was her first experience with country life.
So far she had to admit the view wasn't bad. Cowboys prowled everywhere, all of them busy bringing a long line of cows through a series of pens and then chutes where a cowboy shoved some kind of tube into the cow's mouth and medication was dispensed down their throat.
It was disgusting work.
Her sister, Princess Alessandra, sat atop a rail fence, avidly watching. It was smelly, loud work as the cattle bawled and milled, stirring up dust. She couldn't imagine what her sister found so fascinating.
Or maybe she could. Alessandra was likely watching the love of her life, ranch owner Gideon Hale, who worked amid the other cowboys. The sunlight sparkled off the diamond ring she wore on her left hand.
Mia was only a little jealous.
She was aware of the admiring glances she kept receiving from the men as they moved around the yard. Gideon and Alessandra had introduced her to a few of the hands, but there were several others whom she hadn't met yet.
Texas had its fair share of handsome cowboys.
And all of them seemed to enjoy looking at her.
Except one.
The auburn-haired cowboy—at least what she could see of his hair beneath the tan cowboy hat he wore—hadn't glanced at her once.
It shouldn't bother her. She shouldn't be curious about him. It wasn't that he was withdrawn, because he spoke several times to the men he was working with, and she saw him smile more than once. It was that he was the only man on the place, other than Gideon, who hadn't looked at her once.
And so what if she was used to attention, admiring glances? She couldn't forget the promise she'd made herself back in Glorvaird. She wasn't going to kiss another man until she was sure he was the one she'd marry.
Which meant she really shouldn't even be looking at the cowboy. At any cowboy.
She was only twenty-three and had five failed relationships behind her. One for each year since her eighteenth birthday.
Was she so wrong to long for true love?
She was glad to have been included in this trip with Alessandra and Gideon. Her sister had asked for her help with final preparations for the big engagement ball that she and Gideon were throwing in three weeks. There would be a similar ball in Glorvaird, but Alessandra wanted this party to celebrate with their American friends, for whom it wouldn't be cost effective to travel so far for a party, though some would come to the royal wedding in her home country.
And Mia had wanted to get away from the media storm still raging after her last, very public, breakup.
She'd thought being here would be a distraction.
She just hadn't planned on the distraction being a handsome cowboy who refused to look in her direction.
* * *
Ethan couldn't help but be aware of the beautiful blonde.
He'd first noticed her mid-morning, when she and another blonde had emerged from the ranch house to watch the chaos ensuing near the barn.
Their appearances were similar enough that he thought they must be sisters, though he didn't know either of them. The blonde, who he guessed was the older sister, wore jeans and a man's work coat. Her boots had seen their fair share of farm work. He guessed the coat must belong to Gideon because at one point, she'd stopped him, and they'd shared a warm kiss.
But the younger sister... she wore skinny jeans that hugged her slender curves, and a white blouse beneath a rhinestone-studded denim jacket.
Nobody who worked on a ranch wore white around farm chores. And her high-heeled boots were more appropriate for a fashion event than the barnyard.
Regardless, he couldn't keep from sneaking glances at her. At first, she hung back, perching on an ice chest closer to the barn than the corrals where they ran cows through.
But soon enough, she was moving among the guys, distributing cold bottles of water out of the ice chest. She made it a point to spe
ak to the different hands.
The October weather couldn't be called brisk, and the work was grueling. He'd sweated through the T-shirt he wore beneath a flannel overshirt. The sweat was downright refreshing compared to the cow drool and medication that had been slung onto him by the ornery beasts. He was sure he smelled worse than the bovines they were drenching with worming medication.
Finally, it was his turn to take a break from the drenching position—sticking the elongated tube down the cows' throats and squeezing de-worming medication down their gullets.
He'd take five and then climb back in and start driving cows into the chute. Another hour and a half, and he could take a short break in the AC in his truck before heading home to start the afternoon milking. Taking on this extra job would make for a couple of eighteen hour days, but the extra cash was needed at home. Like always. His stepbrothers were demanding new kicks.
He leaned on the railing, not holding his breath for the beautiful young woman to head his way with one of those water bottles.
He'd learned early on that girls like her never gave the time of day to guys like him. He hadn't seen her around town before, and there was no doubt she was related to the beautiful blonde that was Gideon Hale's girlfriend, but somehow he knew that she'd know just by looking at him that he was hired help. Dirt poor hired help.
"Thirsty?"
The lilting female voice shocked him into looking up before he'd thought better of it. She was right there, extending a bottle still dripping from the ice water in the chest.
He pushed his hat back slightly on his head and took it. "Thank you, ma'am. Miss."
His face went hot as he stumbled—didn't younger women hate to be called ma'am?—and he cursed his fair coloring, knowing he was probably blushing.
She was even more beautiful up close, with dancing, ice-blue eyes and the lightest splash of freckles across her nose and high cheekbones. Her long, blonde hair was pulled behind her head in a curly ponytail.
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