A Royal Baby on the Way

‘‘You’re kidding, right?’’ Mitch asked.

‘‘Not really.’’

The bodyguard slipped a thin wallet out of his jacket pocket…the one on the opposite side from the gun. He opened it and handed it to Mitch.

Mitch studied the official badges. The top one showed a royal coat of arms, while the bottom came from the U.S. State Department.

‘‘There’s a photo ID as well,’’ the man offered helpfully.

Mitch flipped to the picture and noted the card below, then handed the wallet back to Reginald Rowan, security expert and a man licensed to carry a handgun in at least two countries.

‘‘Door’s open,’’ Mitch said. ‘‘I don’t bother much with locks. There aren’t many strangers out here. At least not until today.’’

‘‘How nice,’’ Alex said as she glanced around. ‘‘It’s very private. You must like that.’’

‘‘I guess.’’

His gaze moved from her back to the remaining security agent, to the bulge of the man’s gun, to the sleek Jag parked in front of the house. If it was a joke, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make it look real. He shrugged. What did it matter? He would play along for a while, just to figure out what everyone wanted.

* * *

Twenty minutes later he and Alex, as she’d insisted he call her despite frowns of annoyance from the security men, sat across from each other at the old oak table in the kitchen. Mitch tried to concentrate on what his guest was saying, but all he could think was how ticked off Betty, his housekeeper, was going to be if Alex turned out to be the real thing and she’d missed her chance to meet royalty.

‘‘So the last time my parents were in America was twenty-nine years ago,’’ Alex said, continuing her story. ‘‘They brought their child, James, with them. He was barely a year old.’’

‘‘And that’s when he was kidnapped?’’ Mitch asked.

‘‘Right. They’d been staying at the family home in Aspen, Colorado. I don’t know all the details, of course. I wasn’t even born. From what I’ve learned, a massive search was instigated, but it was as if the baby had just disappeared. A ransom note had been received, confirming everyone’s belief that the kidnapping was for monetary gain and not political purposes.’’

‘‘But your family didn’t pay in time?’’

Alex leaned forward and rested her forearms on the scarred table. ‘‘That part is a little hazy. I think the ransom was collected, but before it could be delivered, the authorities found the kidnapper’s hideout. Through some freak accident, the small cabin burned to the ground during the rescue attempt. The kidnapper’s body was found and identified, and a few bits of my brother’s clothing were discovered. He was presumed dead. Only recently did I receive this letter.’’

She pulled a single sheet of paper from her handbag and passed it to him. Mitch read it once, quickly, then a second time. He was having trouble keeping track of everything going on. One minute he’d been admiring a pair of pretty legs and the next he was reading about a lost royal heir.

He glanced up from the sheet. ‘‘This could be a hoax.’’

‘‘I know, but we have to assume it’s not. What if my brother really is still alive?’’

‘‘So that’s why you want to talk to John.’’

She nodded. ‘‘We have no way of knowing if he’s James or not. According to Grandma Beulah, whom I spoke with yesterday, she thinks it’s one of the other two.’’ Alex pressed her full lips together. ‘‘I don’t know what to tell you about her information. She’s a lovely woman, but her memory has faded and I wasn’t completely convinced she even knew why I was visiting her. From what I can piece together, three boys around the same age came to The Sunshine Home within a short time of the kidnapping. That information, combined with the fact that a baby’s body was never recovered at the fire and Grandma Beulah’s possession of James’s baby blanket means there’s a possibility my brother is still alive.’’ Her blue eyes darkened. ‘‘I don’t suppose you remember anything that might be helpful.’’

‘‘I was four when my family adopted John. Sorry, but I don’t remember much except being annoyed at having to share my toys.’’

She sighed. ‘‘I understand. I’m not sure why I’m surprised that this is proving difficult. I suppose I had hoped my sisters and I would fly over here and just figure out what had happened. An unrealistic expectation on my part. The trail is years old, and the odds of James being alive have to be slim. But we’re determined to learn as much as we can.’’

‘‘Why did your parents send you instead of hiring a private investigator?’’

Alex flushed slightly. ‘‘The king and queen don’t know about the letter. There have been so many false leads over the years. None of us wanted to upset them again, especially with them preparing for the celebration.’’

Every time he thought he’d figured out what was going on, she threw him another curve. ‘‘What celebration?’’

‘‘My father will have been king for twenty years next year. The entire country will be honoring him. It’s a time of great joy, and my sisters and I didn’t want to distract my parents from that. If we do find James, then their happiness will be complete. If not, they won’t have to deal with any more disappointment.’’

She folded her hands primly together. Mitch noticed she hadn’t touched the mug of coffee he’d offered her. Wasn’t it up to royal standards? Uh-oh. If he was worrying about royal standards, that meant he believed her story. Which meant he believed that she was a princess. Maybe he’d been kicked in the head earlier that day and hadn’t noticed.

‘‘As far as our parents are concerned,’’ Alex continued, ‘‘we’re on a tour of your country, publicizing the upcoming celebration. We’re making several public appearances. The investigation is being kept quiet.’’

Mitch half glanced over his shoulder. Was there going to be more of an invasion? ‘‘Where are your sisters now?’’

‘‘In Aspen. I’m here to talk to John and to go through records at The Sunshine Home. Laura, our social secretary, is setting that up with the present administration.’’

If Alex wasn’t a real princess, she sure had her act together. She spoke formally enough to be royalty. Her accent intrigued him. As did her perfect posture and the faint tilt of her head. He thought about asking if she had any ID with her—maybe a business card with a little crown on it or something.

He held back a grin. This wasn’t really happening, he thought. Women like her didn’t stroll into the lives of men like him. He was a decent guy with a successful ranch. He’d been told he was good-looking, and for what it was worth he believed it. But a princess? No way.

‘‘When is he coming back?’’ Alex asked, interrupting his train of thought.

Mitch looked at her. ‘‘Who? John?’’

She nodded. ‘‘Will he be home this evening?’’

Mitch took a long swallow of coffee. ‘‘I don’t know when John will come home. He’s not gone for the day, he’s just gone. He does that kind of thing. He takes off without saying anything and comes back when he’s done with whatever he’d been doing.’’

Alex stiffened. ‘‘What are you saying? Where does he go?’’

‘‘Hell if I know. He doesn’t talk about it. It’s just his way. He’s been doing it since he was a teenager. For a while my folks tried to keep him on the ranch, but he refused. He was too big to send to his room, so they let him go.’’ What he wasn’t going to tell her was that for a long time he’d been happy to see his brother leave. In the past couple of years, though, he’d come to terms with many things and now he missed John when he was gone.

‘‘But what if you have to get in touch with him? He must phone.’’

‘‘Sometimes. Not always.’’ His gaze narrowed. ‘‘I don’t know what the rules are like where you come from, but here in this country, no one has to check in if he doesn’t want to.’’

Her full lips pursed in obvious annoyance. ‘‘I assure you that Wynborough is not a dictatorship. My point was simply that family members often prefer to stay in touch. What if there was an emergency with your parents?’’

‘‘I don’t have an answer to that. I guess John would just have to live with what happened.’’

Her shoulders slumped a little, the first slip of otherwise perfect posture. ‘‘But I have to talk with him.’’

‘‘You really think he might be your brother?’’ Mitch asked doubtfully. John, the lost royal prince? Mitch turned the idea over in his mind. No, it wasn’t possible, was it?

‘‘I don’t know what to think,’’ Alex admitted. ‘‘I just know that I must speak with him.’’

They both heard footsteps from the hallway. The security men walked into the kitchen. ‘‘Princess Alexandra, how long are you planning to stay this afternoon?’’ the taller of the two asked. ‘‘We have a long drive ahead of us.’’

Alex looked at Mitch. ‘‘Could it really be weeks until he comes back?’’

Mitch nodded.