A Royal Baby on the Way

‘‘Gabriel Morgan’s our man,’’ Laura said. ‘‘Plus, he’s American, so he’ll be most at home.’’

‘‘Good. The last thing we need is a wild princess on the loose.’’

‘‘What about Elizabeth and Katherine? Or for that matter, you?’’

Alex laughed. ‘‘As if anything would ever happen to us. I promise you that except for possibly finding our long-lost brother, nothing exciting is going to happen while we’re in America.’’

Chapter One (#ulink_c176124d-7e46-55cb-b6ac-6e81f0dc2b08)

Mitch Colton could smell trouble a mile away…or right in his own driveway. Especially when it came packaged in a sleek, midnight-blue Jaguar. He’d been on his way into the house after spending the morning in the barn with a sick cow when the sound of a car engine had caught his attention. And not just any car engine, but one belonging to an elegantly beautiful sports car.

He stared as the vehicle came to a stop in front of the wide porch that encircled the low, one-story ranch house. While he could admire the sleek lines of the car, he didn’t get the point. Sure, he could buy one, or even a dozen if he was so inclined, but he lived on a working ranch, and a car like that wasn’t practical.

Neither was the leggy redhead stepping out from behind the wheel.

Mitch blinked. Redhead? As in a woman? He looked closer. Yup, and to quote his father, she was a looker. Well dressed in a toast-colored sweater dress, the hem of which flirted with her calves. She was slender, with plenty on top to capture any man’s interest. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but enough of her face showed to convince him that she was somewhere between very pretty and knock-out gorgeous. Long, auburn curls fell down her back. Not bad for a Sunday afternoon, he thought.

‘‘Good afternoon,’’ the woman said as she approached the porch. ‘‘Are you Mitch Colton?’’

He frowned. She sounded funny. Almost English, but not quite. She sure as hell wasn’t from around here. He pushed his hat farther back on his head, propped one foot on the porch railing, leaned forward and rested his forearms on his raised thigh.

‘‘That depends on who’s doing the asking.’’

He’d half expected her to get annoyed, but she surprised him by smiling. ‘‘Don’t you sound like the local sheriff in a Western movie. All right, cowboy, we’ll do this your way.’’ She pulled off her sunglasses, extended her hand and approached the porch. ‘‘I’m Alex Wyndham. If you are Mitch Colton, I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.’’

He’d been holding his own, right up until she smiled and removed her sunglasses. The one-two punch of full lips curving in delight and baby-blue eyes hit him like whisky on an empty stomach. He straightened, swore silently, then leaned down to take her fingers in his. Even though he braced for the impact, the not-so-unexpected jolt of awareness crackled down to his toes. On the return trip, it settled somewhere a tad more interesting. Geez. All this over one little smile. Imagine what would happen to his body if she laughed, or God forbid, made that throaty purring sound women were so good at when they wanted a man.

He straightened and cleared his throat. ‘‘Ma’am.’’

Her smile broadened. ‘‘Ma’am. I’m sure you’re using that mode of address for different reasons than is normally the case. But I like it.’’

Okay, now he was officially lost. ‘‘What are you talking about?’’

‘‘Nothing. I’m just savoring the moment. Here I am having a real conversation with a real cowboy. You are a cowboy, aren’t you?’’

‘‘Yeah.’’ He drew the single syllable out a couple of beats, then sighed. He didn’t like the new direction of their conversation. ‘‘You’re not some buckle bunny out looking for a ride, are you? I didn’t do that kind of thing when I was a kid, and I’m sure as hell not going to do it now.’’

Her delicate eyebrows pulled together in a frown. She had the most perfect skin he’d ever seen. Except maybe on a baby’s butt. Faint color stained her cheeks, but he would have bet a prime steer or two that it was natural, not out of a compact. Her eyes were large, her lashes dark. High cheekbones and a pointed chin focused attention on her full mouth. Dress her up in some leather and lace and she would look like the poster girl for sin.

‘‘Buckle bunny?’’ His guest shook her head. ‘‘Are you talking about a rabbit? Don’t you have cattle on this ranch? I didn’t know anyone bred rabbits out West. Is there a market for them?’’

‘‘What are you talking about?’’ he asked. Rabbits? Was she crazy?

‘‘Rabbits. You mentioned them. Well, you actually said bunnies, but aren’t they the same thing? Are we having trouble communicating?’’

‘‘One of us is.’’ He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at her. Was she being dumb on purpose? ‘‘Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, lady.’’

She flashed him another smile. ‘‘Actually, I’m looking for your brother. John Colton. Could you tell me where he is?’’

While her conversation about rabbits had done a whole bunch to dilute his desire, her question squashed the last, lingering flicker of interest. Over the years he’d come to terms with his relationship with his brother, but he refused to be attracted to one of John’s old lovers.

He raked his gaze over her, starting at her expensive boots and ending at the riot of curls on the top of her head. ‘‘First of all, I don’t give out personal information to strangers. Second, you don’t look like his type.’’

‘‘Type?’’

The woman stared at him blankly. She repeated the word again, silently, as if trying to figure out what he meant. Her surprise was so genuine, he had to reassess his opinion of her.

‘‘You think we were involved?’’ she asked, faintly bewildered. ‘‘Oh, my. No, it’s not that at all.’’

But before she could explain exactly what their relationship was, or he could ask, a black sedan pulled into his yard and parked behind the Jag. Must be his day for company, he thought as two men in dark suits stepped out of the car.

Mitch might have spent most of his life either on the ranch or the rodeo circuit, but he knew security people when he saw them. The not-so-subtle bulges under their left arms came from handguns, not muscles.

‘‘You’ve got my attention now, lady,’’ he said.

‘‘Alex,’’ she murmured as she turned to look at the two strangers. ‘‘Just plain Alex.’’

He ignored her statement, mostly because it didn’t make sense. Interestingly enough, the two thugs were ignoring him, too. What was going on?

‘‘Why don’t you tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here?’’ Mitch asked.

One of the security men looked up and nodded politely, then spoke to the woman. ‘‘Princess Alexandra, you know you’re not allowed to go off unescorted. You’ve only been in this country a short time and you’re not familiar with the driving laws, nor will you know how to communicate with the local citizens.’’

‘‘They’re just people, Rowan. I’ve been communicating just fine.’’ The woman laughed.

How nice that she was amused, Mitch thought. Then he replayed the man’s statement a couple of dozen times in his brain. Princess Alexandra? Had he really said Princess?

‘‘No way,’’ he muttered, mostly to himself. ‘‘Not a real princess.’’

Alex, or Princess Alexandra or whomever she was, turned to face him and shrugged. ‘‘Sorry, yes. I’m a real princess. I have a king and queen for parents, three princesses for sisters. There’s even a palace.’’

His mind went blank. All he could do was stand there and repeat the same thing over and over again. ‘‘A princess? A real princess?’’ She didn’t look like a princess, he thought, staring at her dress and then her face. There wasn’t any crown or whatever it was princesses wore. ‘‘This is a joke, right?’’

‘‘I’m afraid not.’’ Her gaze moved to the two security men standing next to her. ‘‘He doesn’t seem to be understanding me. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I will have some trouble communicating.’’

That comment got through to Mitch. It also annoyed him. ‘‘I’m not stupid,’’ he said. ‘‘I heard what you said, I just don’t believe it.’’

The woman nodded slightly. ‘‘I suppose in your position I would feel the same way.’’ She motioned to the house. ‘‘Would it be possible to go inside and talk about this?’’

He looked at the two armed men. To think the most excitement he’d been expecting in his quiet Sunday afternoon had been to catch a couple of football games on television. ‘‘Sure. Will the rent-a-cops let you do that?’’

Neither security person responded to his mild insult. The taller of the two turned to the woman. ‘‘We’re going to have to search the house.’’

‘‘Do you mind?’’ Alex asked Mitch. ‘‘It’s really a formality. I’m sure you’re very safe.’’

‘‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’’ He had the strangest feeling that he’d been dropped into a movie somewhere in the middle. He had no clue what was going on and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

‘‘If you’ll give me a minute,’’ the taller man said, then walked up the three stairs and across the porch. He paused at the front door.