The Rancher's Runaway Princess

So this was Hamilton. So much for answered prayer. His fingers wrapped around hers and her tummy turned over.

Prairie Rose was a reputable operation. She’d expected the owner to be older. Certainly more plain looking, like most of the ranchers she’d grown up knowing. She hadn’t expected him to be tall and sexy and all of what, thirty? Thirty-five? She kept the polite smile glued to her face, but inside she was growling to herself. Acting like a blushing schoolgirl. She was beyond that, wasn’t she? And she was here to do a job, for Pete’s sake!

“My flight was a little early.”

She withdrew her hand, giving it a small tug. His fingers were warm and callused and had covered hers completely. She’d enjoyed the sensation, too much. Knowing it made her uncomfortable. There was no reason on earth why a single handshake should cause all this commotion within her.

It’s just a physical reaction, she told herself. He was a fine-looking man, there was no sense denying it. She’d always admired that rugged, large, capable type, and he certainly fit that category. Any woman would have reacted the same way.

“This is my farrier, Martha,” he introduced the woman holding the halter of the mare. Martha was taller than Lucy, sturdy, with slightly graying hair and was at least forty-five.

“You’re from Marazur,” Martha announced, releasing the halter and shaking Lucy’s hand. “The Navarro family is renowned for their royal stables. It’s a pleasure.”

Why Lucy felt a tiny shaft of pride at that statement she had no idea. She’d been in Marazur all of two months and certainly couldn’t take any credit for the stock owned by His Highness. It wasn’t as if she belonged there or anything. Alexander had merely indulged her by letting her potter around; she’d heard him telling his eldest son that very thing. He’d let her come on this trip just for appearances. He hadn’t known what to do with her and this was easy. But that didn’t matter. She was here now, and she would surprise them all by making the visit a success. Hamilton didn’t know who she was. He wouldn’t suspect her credibility, and she’d make sure it stayed that way.

“Brody’s been telling me about you coming,” Martha continued.

“It’s not every day we get to do business with a royal family,” Brody admitted, smiling down at her. It was slightly crooked, and her heart gave another traitorous thump.

Brody Hamilton was a charmer. With the realization of it, Lucy immediately felt better. Charm she could deal with. Charm only went so far, like good looks. It was blood that would tell. And unlike her mother, she wasn’t going to fall for a wink and a smile. His would be wiped off his face soon enough, when he realized she actually knew what she was doing.

“Yes, well, I’m far more interested in the stock.” She moved ahead and rubbed her hand on the hide just above the mare’s nose. She closed her eyes briefly, smiling at the way the mare rubbed into her hand, enjoying the attention. “What’s up with you, lovely? Hmm?”

“A bruise, nothing more. She stumbled during a trail ride yesterday.”

“Trail ride?”

“We do give them now and then, a couple of hours and most people have had their fill of horseback. It keeps some of the older stock exercised. Besides…it’s fun. Martha assures me a day or so in her box and this girl’ll be right as rain.” He rubbed the mare’s neck as he said it.

There was that crooked grin again, accompanied by the crinkled corners of his eyes that seemed to be teasing. She turned away from him.

“And this beautiful girl is what—” she made a cursory examination “—sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Sixteen.” Brody’s smile had faded slightly.

Lucy ran her hand down the gleaming neck, her gaze taking in the shape of the ears, the forehead, the wide-set eyes. There was no doubt about it. She’d know that head anywhere. A smile flirted with her lips. What a pleasant surprise.

“Which would make her…one of Pretty Colleen’s,” she announced triumphantly. His flirtatious grin wouldn’t get far with her, and she would make sure he knew it. She knew her business, and he needed to know that. She wasn’t just an emissary sent to broker a deal.

Brody’s smile disappeared completely. He stared at Miss Farnsworth, trying to puzzle her out. How on earth could she tell that? He’d bought Pretty Piece from a farm in Tennessee when she was eight…one of his first purchases on his own. This little moppet with the red curls, Lucy, she would have been a child when Pretty foaled. And she was from Marazur. The Mediterranean was a long way from backroads Alberta. Yet her accent didn’t bear it out. She wasn’t native to Marazur. He was as certain of that as he was that Pretty Piece was indeed of Pretty Colleen. A fact she couldn’t have known before today, not unless she’d had a look at his records.

Who was Lucy Farnsworth? His brows snapped together. There was more to her than first appeared. He wondered how much more.

“How did you know?”

“It’s her head. Looks just like her mum.”

Brody shook his head while Martha laughed. “Congratulations, Miss Farnsworth. I think you’ve rendered him speechless. Quite a feat, because most of the time he has something to say.”

“Martha!” Brody frowned. Never mind that at one point, Martha had been his babysitter and had changed his diapers.

Martha reached down for her bag. “Oh, pipe down, Junior. The girl knows her stuff, that’s all. I’ll be back in a few days to check on the mare.”

She blustered out leaving Brody and Lucy in the gap, each with a hand on Pretty.

Somewhere outside a soft whicker echoed.

“I’ll admit, Miss Farnsworth, you surprised me just now.” He put his hat back on his head.

“I have that effect on people.”

“Maybe sometime you’d care to explain that.” He let a little humor sneak into his voice; she piqued his curiosity plain and simple. She’d clearly been around the industry a long time. Despite her youth, she seemed knowledgeable. And her accent was State-side. Southeast somewhere, he gathered. “Where are you from, anyway?”

For a moment their eyes clashed and he sensed she was deciding how to answer what should have been a simple question. He tried a smile, inviting her to speak. To his surprise her eyes immediately cooled and her lips thinned.

“You must have work to do,” she offered stiffly.

“There’s always work, but I expect you know that.” She didn’t want to answer. He wondered why, but there’d be time to get that information. She was supposed to stay several days.

“I’ll just—” She swallowed, let the sentence hang.

“You’ve had a long flight and drive. You probably want to rest. I’ll take you up to the house.”

“You said you had work.”

He angled his head slightly. He couldn’t quite figure out Lucy Farnsworth. She was younger than he’d expected, especially to be so involved with such a renowned stable. It was clear she’d been sent because she could do the job. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d expected someone taller, with dark hair and a remote manner.

The only thing that bore out his expectations was the manner. There could be no mistaking the coolness, the only warmth she’d shown was in the caresses she’d spared Pretty. But tall and elegant she was not. She was barely up to his shoulder, and her hair was a tangle of gingery ringlets that flirted with her cheekbones until she tucked them behind her ears.

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get you settled in the house first.”

Lucy looked away from him, as if what she was going to say next was so uncomfortable she couldn’t meet his eyes. She instead looked Pretty in the eyes and scratched between the mare’s ears. “I assumed I’d be in a guest house.”

“We don’t have a guest house, but then there’s no need. There’s more than enough room.” He had a fleeting thought of running into her in the hall at sunrise, her curls in disarray and her cheeks still pink from the warmth of her bed….

Where the hell had that come from?

“I don’t mean to impose on you, Mr. Hamilton. I can stay at the hotel in the town I drove through. What was it called… Larch something or other?”

“Larch Valley, and it’s a twenty-minute drive.” Perhaps not a bad idea, come to think of it, but the agreement had been made that he’d provide accommodation. He didn’t want it said that he didn’t provide proper hospitality. This was an important deal. And part of that was providing all that the ranch had to offer.

“That’s a short commute in most places.” Her voice interrupted him again.

Brody walked to a nearby hook and grabbed a lead, snapping it on to the mare’s halter. “If you’re more comfortable there, I understand. I’m sorry the arrangements weren’t made clear. But why drive it if you don’t have to?”

“I don’t know…”

He sensed her hesitation and pressed on. “At least stay for dinner. If Mrs. Polcyk can’t convince you with her roast chicken…”