The Prince's Heir

“A simple DNA test will resolve any doubts.”

“I see.” She clasped her hands on the table in front of her, again in imitation of him, and he braced himself for her next jab. She smiled tightly, her eyes still stormy. “You know, it just goes to show how deceptive appearances can be. I’d never have guessed until this very minute that you were dumb as dirt.”

“Mandy,” Vera Crawford cautioned again, though her tone was less stringent this time. She didn’t really disapprove of her granddaughter’s behavior.

“Dumb as dirt?” Stephan repeated.

“That’s the only possible explanation for your assumption that I’d agree to a DNA test that would leave my son open to being shipped off to an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean where the people are more frigid than the climate!”

“If Joshua is Lawrence’s son—and I believe he is or I wouldn’t be here,” he added hastily, “he is a prince, a descendant of a long line of kings. He should be permitted to come to his country and learn our customs and laws. One day, when my father steps down from the throne, Joshua will become a king. He’ll be the ruling monarch of an entire country.”

“You know, if Lawrence couldn’t marry Alena because of his duty to his country, it doesn’t seem exactly fair to me that now her son should be forced into princehood.”

He smiled wryly at her naïveté. “Fair or not, that’s the way it is. The decree dates from 1814.”

She waved a hand. “I know all about King Orwell and that stupid decree, and I don’t care. The man’s been dead almost two hundred years.”

“What decree, Mr. Reynard?” Rita asked.

“King Ormond,” Stephan corrected. “The Decree of Illegitimate Ascension. In the early 1800s King Ormond II produced one son who died in infancy and seven daughters. At his death, his illegitimate son by his acknowledged mistress came forth to claim the throne. Stafford was already popular with the court and the people. He was smart and well liked and he had a lot of good ideas for running the country. Even the queen approved of him, so the precedent was set. If Lawrence had produced a legitimate heir, Joshua would have been bypassed. But Lawrence did not. When my father steps down, Joshua will succeed to the throne. He may choose to abdicate that throne, but he should have the right to make that choice.”

Mandy lifted her glass of tea and took a deep, slow swallow. Her eyes were closed, the long lashes casting a shadow on her porcelain skin. She set the drink down carefully, drew a slim finger through the condensation on the outside of the glass and turned it a couple of times, her attention seemingly focused on the activity. Finally she again clasped her hands and looked up at him, and he saw that she was no longer angry but sad.

“It broke Lawrence’s heart that he wouldn’t be around to see his son grow up. When he put Josh in my arms, he cried.”

She paused as if to let that phenomenon sink in. Stephan wasn’t as shocked as he might have been, as he had been the first time he’d come upon his brother unexpectedly, a few months after his return from America, and found the tears streaming down his cheeks. Now he knew why.

“Your brother had a heart,” she continued. “He cried when Alena died. He cried when he had to leave his son. Joshua has his father’s heart and his mother’s soul. He’s a warm, caring little boy who will grow into a warm, caring man.”

“He’s a prince. He has royal blood in his veins. He belongs to his country.”

“It’s always bothered me a little,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “that Joshua’s family would never get to see him. My brother and his wife are expecting a baby in December, and I can’t wait to see my niece or nephew. I’m almost as excited as they are. If someone told me I’d never get to hold that little baby, never get to see him grow up, I’d be devastated. When I walked in and saw you here, I was terrified that you’d be able to take Josh from me. I was terrified that you’d insist on holding him and you’d fall in love with him immediately and you’d tell me I had no right to keep your nephew from you. Lawrence said you were an all-right guy, so I was worried.”

“Then you agree that the boy should be returned to his family.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren’t true.

She arched an eyebrow. “But you didn’t do any of those things I’d expected and feared. You didn’t show any interest in Joshua because he’s your nephew and a neat little kid. Your only interest is in your stupid country. You have no heart, no emotions. You’re exactly the way Lawrence described the rest of his family. You’re a part of the reason he didn’t want the son he loved to return there and be as lonely and miserable as your family made him.”

She slid her chair back and stood, then leaned over the table and for one wild, heart-pounding moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. Instead she grabbed his tie by the knot and drew him closer. Her face was mere inches from his, and he could see a dusting of golden freckles that her makeup didn’t quite hide across her nose, could feel her breath warm and sweet, but mostly he could see the flames that blazed in her eyes. “You go on back to that country and take over the throne as next in line of succession, produce cold-hearted, unfeeling sons who can carry on the family tradition, but don’t you even think about trying to take Joshua with you or I’ll teach you the meaning of the term Texas wildcat, and I’m not talking about anything to do with oil!”

She released her grip on his tie, whirled around and strode out the back door, slamming it behind her. “Would you like another glass of tea, Mr. Reynard?” Rita asked.

Stephan blinked then suppressed an insane urge to laugh. Her daughter had made an impassioned speech, threatened him with the wrath of a Texas wildcat and left. Even so, Rita Crawford observed the social amenities. Perhaps Texas and Castile weren’t so different after all.

“No, thank you,” he said and rose from the table. “I must be leaving now. I know this has been a big shock for all of you. Here’s the number of the hotel I’m staying at in Dallas. When you’ve had a chance to assimilate everything, please call me there.”

Vera Crawford nodded. “We will, Mr. Reynard.”

Stephan considered setting a time limit for them to call, warning them that if he didn’t hear from them in three days, he’d contact them again.

But that was unnecessary. They’d call. They were honorable people.

He hadn’t been prepared to like this family, but he did.

Mandy was wrong when she’d labeled him unfeeling. In the short time he’d been with her, she’d caused him to feel many things—respect, amusement, admiration and, last but not least, desire in the age-old way in which a man desires a woman. Royalty was not always free to indulge such desire, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel it.

He, like Mandy’s mother, realized the value of observing the amenities, of refusing to indulge emotions and let them influence one’s life. As a member of the royal family—the future king, unless Joshua’s claim to the throne could be validated—he could never afford that indulgence.

Yet as he stood and said goodbye to the Crawfords, and everyone smiled and mouthed the proper pleasantries, he had a very emotional feeling that before this was over, Mandy, with her fiery hair and blazing eyes, her porcelain skin brushed by freckles and her passion for everything, was going to test the limits of his restraint.

Chapter Two

Mandy leaned against the side of the house, half-hidden by a crepe myrtle bush, shaking in fear and anger as she watched Stephan’s rental car drive away. How was it possible that her whole world could have changed so much in less than an hour?

Though she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. The last few years had been constant upheaval... leaving her small hometown, Willoughby, for college in Dallas, fifty miles away, renewing her friendship with Alena, then her grandfather’s death three years ago followed closely by Alena’s death, adopting Josh and moving back to Willoughby. She’d thought she could regain stability by returning to the small town and the family she’d once wanted to leave. And she had regained that stability for a while. She’d traded in her MBA to teach first-grade children, some belonging to her former classmates.

Except for her grandfather and her best friend being gone, the time since she’d come back had been like a return to her childhood when she was surrounded by love and everything was secure and unchanging. She’d been given a second chance, and this time she truly appreciated what she had. This time she was holding on with both hands and not about to let it get away from her.

Only a few hours ago she’d left to do her morning of volunteer work at the library, confident that things would be the same when she returned. Then she’d come back and walked into the home where she’d lived since she was a child, where she’d always felt safe, into the kitchen where she’d eaten breakfast that very morning with the people she loved.

But in that kitchen, sitting at that same table, she’d seen Stephan Reynard.

And she had a horrible feeling that her life would never be the same no matter how tightly she tried to hold on to the status quo.

The worst thing wasn’t even that he wanted to take Josh. That was unthinkable, of course, but even worse was that she was inexplicably, insanely attracted to the man who wanted to steal her son, the brother of the man who’d caused her best friend’s death.

For some reason she’d never be able to understand, her hormones had turned on her and focused their attention on this enigmatic man who was the antithesis of everything she wanted out of life. He had wealth and power and that always spelled heartache. If she needed any confirmation of that fact of life... and she didn’t...all she had to do was look at Alena’s life, especially after she became involved with this man’s brother.

Stephan Reynard was from another country. Not just another city an hour’s drive away, but a completely different country, thousands of miles away in distance and lifestyle.

And he was the enemy, the man who thought that country had a claim on her son, who wanted to yank him away from her and from the life she’d so carefully constructed for him.

Yet as much as she feared Stephan and hated him, just as much was she drawn to him. There was something about him, some banked fire in his eyes, something predatory about the way he moved, something primitive buried beneath the layers of civilization and conservative clothing that reached to a part of her she hadn’t even known existed before...and really didn’t want to know about now.

When he’d callously announced Lawrence’s death, she’d been completely disconcerted, not only because she’d liked Lawrence and had been shocked at the news, but also because that meant Stephan had a legitimate reason to take her son. The room had started to spin about her. Stephan must have spotted her weakness, and he’d rushed over to her. For one insane instant she’d wanted to collapse into those arms and be held against that wide chest, to free those uncivilized urges she somehow knew he possessed.

Fortunately she’d recovered her good sense before doing anything that stupid and had not, she hoped, given him any sign of her absurd reaction.

When she’d grabbed him by that ridiculous tie and invaded his space to issue her warning, she’d been fighting dual urges to use that tie to choke him or to pull his lips to hers. Even now she could remember the sizzle that had seemed to pass from his body to hers, though they hadn’t actually touched physically. Even now his elusive scent that was both foreign and familiar, civilized and wild, tantalized her memory.

She snapped a leaf off the bush beside her and crumpled it in her fingers. Her hormones must have gone into overdrive, focusing on the first attractive man they spotted, causing her to attribute to that man all sorts of traits that he didn’t possess. Stephan Reynard was a stuffy, snobbish, arrogant prince who wanted to take her son.

She had to shove her rebellious hormones back into their cells and launch a crusade against Stephan Reynard. She had to protect Alena’s son—her son now—keep her promise to Alena and Lawrence and keep her family intact.

She drew in a deep breath, determinedly pulling in the familiar scents of honeysuckle and trees and dust in an effort to drive out Stephan’s enigmatic, enticing scent.

Spine straight and head high, she returned to the backyard where Stacy, Josh and Prince were involved in one of Josh’s favorite games. Stacy threw Prince’s bone, then Josh raced with the dog to see who would retrieve it.

“I’m going in to talk to Mom and Nana, Stacy. Would you keep Josh out here for a little while longer?”

Stacy tossed the bone, then when Josh and Prince ran after it, she turned to Mandy, a worried frown marring her young features. “What’s going to happen, Sis?”

“Nothing. We’ll figure out some way to deal with this.” She had no idea what that way might be, but she would find it. She couldn’t conceive of anything else.

Josh charged back, jubilantly clutching the plastic bone and chattering happily.

“Good boy!” Stacy approved. “See how much easier it is to carry it in your hand than in your mouth?”

Mandy scooped him up and gave him a big hug, loving him so much it was almost painful. Josh wrapped his chubby arms about her neck and hugged her back, gave her a sloppy kiss, then demanded to be allowed down again so he could play with Prince. She set him on his bare feet and he scampered away.

“He doesn’t appreciate how much he’s loved because that’s all he’s ever known,” Mandy said. “That’s the way it ought to be, and it’s not going to change.”

“I’m with you all the way,” Stacy replied.

Mandy went back inside to her mother and grandmother who sat at the table, waiting for her.

“We got problems,” she said.

Her grandmother grinned wryly. “You always did have a talent for understatement.”

She flopped into the chair beside her. “Any thoughts on what we’re going to do?”

Nana shook her head. “When you told us you were adopting Josh, you didn’t tell us about that decree of illegitimate ascension.”

Mandy sighed. “It didn’t seem important. I thought Lawrence would marry the woman his parents had picked out for him and have lots more sons. It’s the male who determines the sex, you know, so the odds were pretty good on that one. I certainly had no idea the Taggarts would ever in a million years find out about Lawrence. It’s not like they would be on a guest list for the palace ball and recognize him.”

The front door slammed. “Hi, honey! I’m home!”

“In the kitchen, Dan!” her mother called.

Mandy had to fight the urge to jump up, run to her father and throw herself in his big, capable arms, the way she had done when she was a little girl, when he could make everything all better with a kiss. “You’re going to wish you’d stayed at the hardware store!” she shouted instead.

Dan Crawford appeared in the doorway, a large, smiling man with auburn hair fading to a lighter color and streaked with white. He took one look at the three of them and his smile vanished, concern furrowing his brow instead. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Lynda and the baby?”

“No, they’re fine,” Rita assured him. “Sit down, dear. We need to have a family meeting.”

Dan took a seat at the table and listened quietly while Mandy told him the whole story.

“We need a plan of action,” she concluded. “I don’t think this is going to go away like the chicken pox did.”

Dan Crawford leaned back and exhaled a long sigh. “What did this Stephan Reynard say he plans to do next?”

“He didn’t say,” Rita replied. “He’s staying at a hotel in Dallas and we’re to phone him there after we’ve had time to discuss everything.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Mandy said adamantly. “Joshua’s my son now. Both his parents wanted him to have the kind of life I had, not the kind they had.”

“Stephan Reynard is Joshua’s uncle,” her father said, his voice quiet but resolute. “He may not have any legal rights, but don’t you think he’s entitled to some kind of relationship with his nephew? Someday Joshua’s going to want to know about his heritage.”

“Stephan Reynard doesn’t want a relationship with his nephew. He wants to steal him and turn him into a carbon copy of himself, and we can’t let him do that. Josh would be just as unhappy in that role as Lawrence was.”

She rose, unable to sit still any longer, and paced across the kitchen, then turned around and leaned back against the cabinet as if for support. “When I was little, I envied Alena. She had so many toys and clothes and her own suite of rooms. But she always wanted to come to our house to play. I didn’t understand that. Then I went to Dallas to go to school and we got really close again and she told me she’d been lonely and envied my family.”

She wrapped her arms about herself and smiled weakly. “That was the first time I’d been away from you all. I used to think it would be wonderful to have a place of my own, central heat and air, my own private bathroom. Well, it wasn’t. I never told you how much I missed all of you because you were so pleased about my getting that scholarship and going to school. But I did. Something terrible. If I hadn’t had Alena, I wouldn’t have stayed even that first semester. When Gramps died, it really hit me how valuable you all are to me. Then Alena died, too, and Lawrence put that tiny baby in my arms, and it was like everything shifted and I totally understood. I knew that making lots of money and having lots of things the way Alena had always had was not what I wanted. I’d had the world and given it up. I couldn’t get everything back. Gramps was gone. But I could reclaim the rest of my life, and I wanted Josh to have what you gave me, such a good life that he’d never comprehend loneliness. And he does. Where his ancestors came from doesn’t matter. Love is the only heritage that matters.”

“You’re almost right, baby,” her grandmother said. “Love is the most important, but do you really want to deprive Joshua of knowing about his biological heritage? You’re always saying how it makes you feel connected to live in the house built by your ancestors. Shouldn’t Josh at least know about his?”

Mandy sighed in resignation. Her grandmother was right. Even if she’d had a choice...and she suspected that fighting an entire country didn’t give her one... she wouldn’t be able to keep Stephan away from his nephew.

“I’ll call Stephan Reynard tomorrow,” she agreed dully.

“You must invite him to stay with us,” her mother said.

A rush of hot blood surged through Mandy at the thought of Stephan Reynard sleeping under the same roof with her. “Absolutely not!”

Rita Crawford ignored her daughter. “I’m sure he can’t be comfortable in that hotel. I’ll clean and air the guest room on the third floor.”

“I’ve got a real strong feeling that Stephan Reynard, Prince of Castile, is quite comfortable in that luxury hotel with room service and valet service and maid service. No way is he going to want to move from there into a third-story room in an old house that doesn’t even have elevators or central air or chocolates on the pillows at night”

“Mandy,” her grandmother said, “your mother’s right. When Mr. Reynard has a chance to see how happy Joshua is with us and how much we love him, he’ll realize he can’t take him away.”

“It’s the polite thing to do and the smart thing,” her father said firmly. “You’re outvoted, baby doll.”

There was a down side to living with an extended family, Mandy thought grimly. Like being outvoted.

“Fine. I’ll invite him because it’s the polite thing to do and because you all insist, but I don’t think he’ll come.”

Maybe he’d be so embarrassed when he refused that he’d stay away from her family.

It wasn’t much, was pretty lame, actually, but it was the only hope she had at the moment.

Heaven help her and her renegade hormones if he accepted.

Stephan had a restless night. Jet lag. Traveling to a time zone six hours behind his. That’s all it was. His troubled dreams about the Crawford family, Mandy Crawford in particular, were caused by the jet lag.

He rose early, awakening as usual just before dawn as if the energy of the sun was so strong it made sleep impossible and urged him to be up and busy doing things. He showered, dressed and ordered room service, then stared out his window at the Dallas skyline.

Dallas was a big, fast-paced, modern city, the complete opposite of everything in Castile. Lawrence had brought back glowing reports from America and ideas for bringing Castile into the twenty-first century. Though he’d been fascinated with both New York City and Dallas, he’d expressed a decided preference for Dallas. After learning about Alena and the child, Stephan had wondered if Lawrence’s perceptions had been tainted.

Stephan’s own education and travels had focused on the capitals of Europe, and, in spite of Lawrence’s reports, he’d halfway expected to find Dallas uncivilized and overrun with cattle and cowboys. But he had to admit he’d been favorably impressed. The vitality and energy of the city were almost palpable, yet the people, like the Crawfords, were polite and friendly.

He certainly hadn’t expected to like the Crawfords. The Taggarts had described their socio-economic status as “low class,” “dead broke,” “the whole family living in a run-down old house.” He hadn’t liked or trusted the Taggarts when they’d traveled to Castile for an interview with the king after their claim had proven accurate. He hadn’t been sure how much to believe of their analysis of the situation concerning the Crawfords. Nevertheless, he had fully expected to find Lawrence’s son living in squalor.

He’d been prepared to march in boldly, demand a DNA test from people who would, the Taggarts assured him, be only too happy to relinquish the infant prince into his custody in exchange for a sizable deposit in their bank account. He had certainly not been prepared for the immaculate old house or for the cultured, well-mannered Crawford family who obviously adored Lawrence’s son.

And nothing could have prepared him for Mandy Crawford.

This matter, which should have been simple and easily resolved, had become quite complicated.

He turned away from the window, folded his arms and took in a deep breath. If he was completely honest with himself, he’d have to admit that it wasn’t the jet lag at all that had kept him awake most of the night. It was the situation he’d unexpectedly come into. Specifically, it was one tall, slender woman with wild red hair, flashing green eyes and a burning passion that seemed to extend to everything around her, a woman he’d touched briefly when he’d thought she was going to faint, then been inches away from when she’d gotten in his face to warn him to leave her son alone, a woman who stayed in his mind far more vividly than any of the women he had touched much more intimately through the years.

The phone rang and he knew it was Mandy, as if his thoughts of her could have compelled her to call...or as if her thoughts of calling him, of picking up the phone, of thinking about what she might say to him, were so strong, so passionate, that they reached across the miles.

He snatched up the phone on the first ring, then, irritated at his own eagerness, answered with a crisp “Hello.”

“Stephan Reynard?” Mandy spoke crisply also, but still her soft voice reminded him of the way the wind had breathed through the leaves of the big trees at her house yesterday.

“Speaking,” he replied, ignoring his fanciful thoughts.

“This is Mandy Crawford.”

“I know.”

“We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do.”

“When would be convenient for you?”

“I’m at your disposal.”

“Good. That means we can work around my schedule.” Her tone was confrontational, but Stephan found himself smiling. Texas women were definitely different from any he’d known before. Or maybe it was just that Mandy Crawford was different from anyone he’d known before.