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

For a while, they made good time. Hurrying to keep up with Lorenzo’s long stride, Eliza didn’t notice that the terrain had become progressively rougher until she unexpectedly stepped in a hole. Between one heartbeat and the next, she went down.

She didn’t remember crying out, but suddenly, Lorenzo was there, his handsome face lined with worry. “Are you all right? What happened? Here, let me help you up.”

“I stepped in a hole,” she said, dazed. She struggled to her feet, only to wince, and in the next instant, he’d swept her up off her feet and set her head spinning. “Lorenzo! What are you doing?”

“Making sure you didn’t break your ankle,” he growled, and carried her over to a nearby log. Setting her down, he immediately dropped down to a knee in front of her and began gently tugging off her right boot and sock.

Eliza told herself there was nothing personal in his touch—he would have done the same for anyone. Then his hand closed around her bare ankle, and just that easily, he set every nerve ending in her body tingling. Startled, she gasped softly…and drew his eyes to her.

“Does that hurt?” he asked huskily.

He knew it didn’t—she could see the awareness in his eyes, the same awareness that now had her heart thundering in her breast—but she only shook her head. “No,” she choked. “It’s just a little tender. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He frowned at that. “Maybe we should call off the search for the rest of the day.”

“No! I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary. Really,” she insisted when he hesitated. “I’m fine. Look.”

She wiggled her foot, testing her ankle. Under his hand, Lorenzo felt the delicacy of her bones, and in spite of himself, he was fascinated. Because she was such a tiger when it came to her job, he tended to forget just how delicate she was as a woman…until he touched her. Then he found himself wanting to run his hands over her. Just once, he told himself, he wanted to see how soft she was.

Don’t even think about going there, a voice in his head growled. Not unless you want the story to end up on the front page.

That brought him back to his senses as nothing else could, and with a hastily swallowed oath, he jerked his hand back and handed her her sock. “If you’re sure. Tell me if it starts to hurt you.”

Rising to his feet, he vowed he wasn’t going to touch her again. But as soon as she’d pulled her sock and boot back on and they continued moving north, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to help her whenever they reached a rough spot. And with every touch of their hands, he found it harder and harder to let her go.

When they finally reached the end of the narrow valley and stumbled onto a road, Lorenzo was torn between relief and frustration. He didn’t have to touch her anymore, but they’d come to the end of the trail. Once Lucas reached the road, he could have gone anywhere.

Chapter 6

The town of Lightning, Colorado, might have only been fifty miles from Boulder, but it was as far from the city as Jupiter was from the sun. With a population of three hundred, there was no hotel, no sophisticated restaurants, nothing that would appeal to royalty. The local café wasn’t open for dinner, but the bar next to the town’s only motel was. Divided by the two lane highway that went right through the middle of the town, Lightning was little more than a wide spot in the road. It couldn’t even claim a traffic light.

When Lorenzo pulled up in front of the motel, Eliza half expected him to suggest that they drive on to the next town before stopping for the night. The Lightning Bolt Motel was little more than an old-fashioned motor court that must have been there since the forties. A neon sign blinked in the office window, the parking lot was full of potholes and what little paint there was on the long, narrow ranch-style building was faded and chipped. To put it bluntly, the place looked like a dump.

But Lorenzo didn’t even blink twice at the sight of the place. “I’ll check in,” he said as he cut the engine. “There’s no use both of us going in. You can stay in the car and rest.”

Exhausted, Eliza could have hugged him for that. After they’d lost the prince’s trail when they’d come to the two-lane highway, they’d hiked back to the truck, retraced their route, then discreetly checked the towns up and down the highway in either direction, stopping at local restaurants, gas stations and hotels to see if anyone favoring a candid picture of Lucas had come through there during the past year. It was a tedious exercise in futility, and not surprisingly, no one had been able to help them.

Logically, they had both known finding the prince wasn’t going to be easy, not after so much time had passed since the crash, but the enormity of what they were up against hadn’t hit them until they kept running into one brick wall after another. The prince could be anywhere. For all they knew, he’d left the state of Colorado and could be sunning himself on the beaches of Florida…or Hawaii, for that matter. If he was even in the United States. At this point, there was no way to know.

They’d set themselves an impossible task—they were looking for a needle in a haystack—but Eliza knew Lorenzo was as dedicated as she to finding the prince. That wasn’t the problem. It was the realization that they were going to have to spend a lot more time together than either of them had anticipated.

Hours after she’d nearly twisted her ankle, she could still feel the touch of his hand on her. And he’d touched her countless times since. Every time they came to a stump or the creek or rocky ground when they were hiking through the woods, he’d held out his hand to her, his eyes had met hers, and something had passed between them that still had the power to make her heart turn over in her breast.

“Stop thinking about it,” she told herself sternly, but she couldn’t. Her imagination was a blessing and a curse at one and the same time. With no effort whatsoever, she only had to close her eyes to feel his hand slide slowly up her calf to her knee, then her thigh—

The driver’s door opened with no warning and Lorenzo slid behind the wheel. “Okay, we’re all set,” he began, only to stop when he noticed her face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Mortified by her thoughts, she quickly glanced away, pretending to study the long line of empty rooms and the equally empty parking lot. “Nothing. I’m just tired. I guess you didn’t have any problem getting two rooms.”

“The clerk said we could take our pick,” he replied, “so you’re in three and I’m in nine. Unless you’d rather switch. They’re the same.”

“Three’s fine,” she replied as he pulled up before her room. “You don’t have to get out. I can get my bag.”

She might as well have saved her breath. He was out of the truck before she was and pulling her small suitcase from behind the seat, where they’d stored the luggage. “No problem,” he assured her. “Here, let me get your door for you, too.” And before she could stop him, he unlocked the door to her room for her and escorted her inside.

There was nothing redeeming about the room, other than the fact that it was clean, but Eliza hardly noticed. In the small room, which was barely bigger than the full bed and dresser it held, Lorenzo stood so close she could smell the woodsy scent clinging to his skin and clothes. Long after he left to go to his own room, she knew the scent of him would linger to tease her senses.

“It’s not much to look at,” he said, surveying the room, “but the clerk assured me the beds are new and the linens are clean. If you’re half as tired as I am, you’ll sleep like the dead.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, thanks,” she replied.

They agreed to meet at the truck at nine the following morning, and with a soft good-night, Lorenzo left to go to his own room. Watching the door shut quietly behind him, Eliza knew she was in trouble when she wanted to call him back. Suddenly lonely, she told herself they were spending too much time together. A break would do her good.

But even as she acknowledged that she needed some time to herself to get her head on straight, she knew she couldn’t just sit in her room the rest of the evening and watch TV. She needed a distraction, something, anything, to get her mind off Lorenzo. Glancing out of the room’s narrow window, she found herself studying the bar next door. The bright neon sign in the window advertised food and live music. She and Lorenzo had had an early dinner, but that had been nearly an hour ago, and she hadn’t eaten much. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of some nachos, and she welcomed the distraction. Grabbing the key to her room, she shut the door behind her and headed for the bright lights across the parking lot.

It was Friday night, and Eliza wasn’t surprised that the place was packed—nothing else in town was open. The parking lot was full of pickups, and inside, cowboys and their girls occupied every table. “It’s a twenty-minute wait,” the harried hostess told Eliza as a party of six walked in right behind her. “Sorry I can’t promise you anything sooner, but we’re shorthanded tonight, and it’s Friday.”

That was all she needed to say. “I know what you mean,” Eliza told her with a smile. “I’ll wait at the bar.”

She’d wanted a distraction, and she’d gotten one. As she took one of the few empty seats at the bar, she took in the sight and sound and smell of the place and its clientele for her story. She wanted to remember everything for her readers.

“White wine,” she told the bartender when he was finally able to take her order.

“Put that on my tab,” the cowboy sitting next to her said, shooting her a bold grin. “A lady shouldn’t have to pay for her own drink.”

She saw the leer in his eyes and swallowed a groan. This wasn’t what she needed tonight. She was tired, she just wanted her wine and an order of nachos, and to be left alone. In the scheme of things, she didn’t think that was too much to ask.

“Thanks,” she said shortly, “but I can buy my own drink.” Turning her attention back to the bartender, she lifted a brow at him. “How much do I owe you?”

If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have noticed the cowboy was more than a little inebriated and, consequently, handled the situation differently. But she never saw the alcoholic glaze in his eyes—or the spark of anger that flared there at her words—until it was too late. The second the bartender took her money and walked away, her unwanted companion was leaning close and letting her have it with the sharp edge of his drunken tongue. “What’s the matter, Red? My money not good enough for you? Is that what you’re saying?’ Cause if it is, I don’t like your attitude, little girl. You hear me?”

Oh, she heard him, all right. How could she not? He had her pinned in her seat, trapping her there, and suddenly, her heart was slamming against her ribs in fear. She might have been slender, but she’d never thought of herself as little—until she found herself being glowered at by six feet four inches of very angry cowboy.

They were surrounded by people, she told herself. Nothing was going to happen to her in a crowded bar. But everything about the cowboy was threatening, and no one so much as glanced her way. The bartender was occupied at the other end of the bar, and everyone else was involved in their own conversations. Given the chance, he could have snapped her in two, and no one would have noticed until it was too late.

“Look,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s nothing personal—”

“She’s with me,” a familiar male voice said suddenly from behind her. “Have you got a problem with that?”

Eliza had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Glancing back over her shoulder, she smiled broadly. “Lorenzo! Thank God!”

She knew she must have lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of him, and the cowboy didn’t like it one bit. Giving Lorenzo a hard glare, he growled, “Who the hell are you?”

“Her fiancé,” he lied without missing a beat. And just to be sure the cowboy understood, he laid his hand on Eliza’s shoulder, claiming her as his.

For one heart-stopping moment, Eliza was sure the man was going to belt him. His dark eyes narrowed dangerously, and even as she watched, his hands clenched into fists. But then the bartender made his way back to their end of the bar, another couple waiting for a table took seats on the other side of them, and the cowboy thought better of causing any more trouble. Backing off, he muttered, “You can have her, man. She’s too skinny, anyway. I like my women with some meat on their bones.”

Weak with relief, Eliza waited only until the man had turned and walked away before she burst out laughing and threw herself into Lorenzo’s arms. “Thank you! I was so scared! Did you see the size of his hands? I thought he was going to snap me in two like a toothpick.”