Romancing The Crown: Lorenzo and Anna: The Man Who Would Be King / The Princess And The Mercenary

Focus on what’s important here, a voice in her head said sternly. If you want hearts and flowers, pick up a romance novel!

The story, she reminded herself, drawing in a calming breath. This was the biggest story of her life. Nothing else mattered but that. If the nights were long and she ached to feel a man’s arms around her again, holding her close, that was something she would just have to deal with.

“It was just the opening of the feature on the prince,” she said stiffly. “It was harmless.”

“Then why didn’t you let me read it?”

“Because I don’t have to.” It was as simple as that. “If we’re going to work together with any degree of success, you’re going to have to trust me. I know you don’t like reporters, and we both know how badly I want this story, but not at the expense of anyone’s life, especially the prince’s. That’s not who I am, Your Grace. If something happens to him before you find him, it won’t be because of me.”

For a long moment, he just stared at her with those probing, all-seeing eyes of his, and she was afraid that he would somehow see how much she regretted that he hadn’t kissed her. But she didn’t flinch, and something he saw in her steady gaze must have finally gotten through to him. The stiff set of his shoulders relaxed, and in his sigh, she finally heard acceptance.

“You’re right,” he said gruffly. “I’ve been acting paranoid just because you’re a reporter and that’s not fair to you. You’ve done nothing but be upfront and honest, and I owe you an apology.” Holding out his hand, he said, “I’d like to start over, this time as partners instead of adversaries. What do you say? Do we have a deal?”

She’d never been one to hold a grudge, especially when an apology was so sincerely delivered. Relieved, she smiled and shook his hand and tried not to notice how nice his fingers felt when they closed around hers. “Deal.”

The next morning when they left to meet with Willy, there was no question that Eliza would do the talking. Lorenzo no longer had a problem with that. He’d set his ego aside and made peace, and as he drove over the rough terrain to their meeting place, he thanked God that he had Eliza along. They’d taken so many turns and twists on dirt roads that were little more than faint deer paths that he was completely turned around. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t find his way back to town if he had to—he had a compass and a damn good memory. But it would take him a while.

“This is it,” Eliza said when the terrain turned to almost pure rock. “We stop here and walk the rest of the way.”

Glancing around, Lorenzo frowned. There was no sign of another vehicle. “We’re early. Willy doesn’t appear to be here yet. Do you think he’s coming?”

“If he is, he’s here already. He would never take a chance of walking into something he’s not sure of. If he decided to meet with us, he got here hours ago so he could check the place out. C’mon, I’ve got something special to show you.”

Puzzled, Lorenzo stepped out of the truck, only to glance around in surprise as she joined him. “What’s that noise?”

“The waterfall,” she said with a grin. “Willy likes to meet here so he doesn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us.”

In his travels, Lorenzo had seen everything from Niagara to Angel Falls in Venezuela, but when he followed Eliza through the trees to the foot of a waterfall that appeared out of nowhere, nothing had ever touched him quite like the falls that cascaded over the canyon wall six hundred feet above them. He didn’t even know the name of the river that crashed to the rocks below to kick up a haze of icy mist, but it had a rugged, untouched beauty that left him awestruck. They were miles from anywhere, in the middle of a mountain wilderness that appeared untouched by man. Who else had seen this besides himself, God, Willy and Eliza?

“Like it?” Eliza asked, grinning.

“It’s magnificent.” And just the place for a meeting, he realized. The roar of the falls did, indeed, drown out all sound that was more than a foot or two away. No wonder Willy insisted on telling Eliza his secrets there. It was as safe as a soundproof room.

The thought had hardly registered when he glanced past Eliza and saw a middle-aged man of medium height cautiously approaching them. Stoop-shouldered and scruffy, his beard, mustache and shoulder-length hair gray with age, he looked right past Lorenzo and focused on Eliza. This was, Lorenzo knew without a doubt, the infamous Willy Cranshaw. Dressed in camouflage, from his boots to his waterproof jacket and skull cap, he would have blended into the terrain if Lorenzo hadn’t been watching for him.

Eliza turned then and spied him, too, and grinned. With nothing more than that, Willy’s entire demeanor changed. He grinned back at her, and for a short while, at least, his blue eyes were free of suspicion and he seemed happy to see her. Then his gaze once again shifted to Lorenzo, and the wariness was back, transforming his entire body. There wasn’t the slightest doubt in Lorenzo’s mind that the older man would have scurried off into the woods like a scared rabbit if he’d so much as looked at him wrong.

“Hey, Willy,” Eliza said, drawing his attention back to her. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I like your new clothes,” he said shyly. “They look good on you. Are you going to buy a ranch?”

“Not unless I win a million bucks in the Publisher’s Clearinghouse sweepstakes,” she retorted with a chuckle. “But, thanks. I like them, too. Duke Lorenzo helped me pick them out. He thought it might be safer for the prince if we disguised ourselves a little.”

“So you’re undercover? Like the CIA?”

“Not quite,” she replied, smiling, “but close enough. The duke doesn’t want anyone else to find the prince before he does and possibly hurt him. That’s why I need to ask you a few questions for him, if that’s all right.”

“I dunno,” he mumbled, ignoring Lorenzo completely. “Depends on what you want to talk about. You don’t think I hurt the prince, do you?”

“Oh, no!” she assured him. “Thanks to you, his family knows he’s alive. No one is blaming you for anything. But we do need to know exactly where you found the scarf. There may be other clues at the campsite that tell us more about the prince and where he may have gone when he left there.”

Hesitating, Willy cocked his head at her. “You’re going to put this in your story, aren’t you? All about your search for the prince? Are you going to mention me? Will my name be in the paper?”

Expecting the question—he asked her the same thing every time he gave her a tip—she shrugged. “That depends on you. I know how you value your privacy, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to destroy that. I can either mention your name or just refer to you as an unnamed source. The choice is yours.”

When he considered his options, Eliza couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. There was a part of him that longed for fame and fortune, but the war in Vietnam had scarred him, and as much as he yearned for publicity, his fear of people—and the government, in particular—sadly ruled his life. Not surprisingly, he said, “I think I like the sound of an unnamed source.”

“That’s fine,” she replied easily. “But in the meantime, where did you find the scarf, Willy? We can’t do anything until we know that.”

“I just want to make sure I’m not going to get in trouble,” he hedged, shooting Lorenzo another wary look. “I don’t like the law, and if they find out I was hunting without a license up on Walnut Ridge, they’re going to send someone after me.”

“No one will know except you and me and the duke,” she promised. “And we’re not telling anyone. You know you can trust me, Willy. And the duke has no reason to wish you harm. He’s very appreciative of your help. Because of you, the king and queen now know there’s a good possibility that their son is alive. You gave them hope. Now help us find the prince. Where’s the campsite? Up on Walnut Ridge?”

Nodding, he said, “It’s on the backside of the ridge, about a mile straight north from where the forest service road forks. You can’t miss it. It’s back in a stand of aspen not too far from Elk Creek.”

“And where did you find the scarf at the campsite? Was it just laying on the ground by the deserted campfire or what?”

He shook his head. “It was hanging on a dead tree branch a few feet away from the campsite. I think it got caught there when the prince got scared for some reason and ran away.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Eliza saw Lorenzo roll his eyes, but he thankfully didn’t say anything. If he had, Willy would have shut up like a clam and scurried back into the woods. “Why do you think he was scared, Willy? Was there some sign that he might have been in some kind of distress when he abandoned the campsite?”

“Not that I could tell,” he replied honestly. “But the creek’s not that far from the campsite…or where the prince’s plane went down. I figure he wandered alongside the creek after he crashed and eventually built himself a campsite on the ridge. Some of the people looking for him had to figure the same thing.”

It made sense. After the prince’s plane had finally been found, the FBI and local police had scoured the woods for several miles in every direction of the vicinity of the crash, searching for Lucas. It was the others, however, the fortune hunters and nutcases who had been lured to the crash site by the false rumor of a reward offered by a Hollywood gossip magazine, that worried Eliza the most. If any of them had decided to follow the creek in search of him, they might have surprised him into running. The question was, where would he have gone from there?

Glancing over at Lorenzo, she expected him to be at least somewhat impressed with Willy’s theory, but judging from his set expression, he was reserving judgment. Disappointed, she told Willy, “You might be right, but we won’t know until we see the campsite. Tell me more about the scarf and the log it was caught on. Where was it in relation to the campfire?”

“On the north side,” he said promptly. “Maybe about ten yards away. If he was trying to get away from someone, that was the easiest way to go. It’s rough country up there. There are cliffs on either side, and the creek’s impossible to cross.”

“So you think he went north?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t have much choice if someone was trailing him from the south. It’s the only way out.”

As far as theories went, it was as good as any other, and only time would tell if he was right. Sensing Lorenzo’s impatience to get on with the search, Eliza said, “Well, I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? Thanks for your help, Willy. We couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

“I know what it’s like to be missing,” he said simply. “It’s the loneliest, scariest feeling in the world.”

There’d been a time in Vietnam when he’d been missing in action and on his own in the jungle, and the shadows of that still lingered in his eyes, decades later. For a long second, he just stood there, reflecting. Then he quietly turned and disappeared into the trees.

Staring after him, Eliza couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, but there was nothing she could do for him, nothing he would let her do for him…except give him the space he needed. So she didn’t call him back, but turned to Lorenzo instead. “Well, what do you think? Could the prince have headed north?”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe not. It’s too soon to tell. I prefer to make my own conclusions once I’ve investigated the campsite.”

Personally, Lorenzo didn’t put much stock in anything Willy said. The man obviously had problems. He didn’t seem quite in touch with reality, and if Lorenzo hadn’t seen Lucas’s scarf with his own two eyes, he never would have believed it was found by the old man. Did the abandoned campsite even exist? He hoped so. They’d find out soon enough.

They started the search at the spot where Lucas crashed his plane into the side of the mountain. The last time Lorenzo had been there, it had looked much different. The crash had only happened days before, and the shock had still been fresh. When Lorenzo had seen the wreckage for the first time, he’d sworn he could smell the prince’s pain and horror as he’d realized he was going down. In spite of the fact that Lucas’s body hadn’t been discovered in the wreckage, Lorenzo had felt little hope that he would be found alive.

Time, however, had a way of healing all wounds. The fuselage and debris that were all that was left of the small plane had blended into the mountainside, and the snow nearly covered that. Anyone seeing the site for the first time would have thought the crash happened decades ago instead of just last year.