Man...Mercenary...Monarch

“Now there’s a thought,” Betty said with a burst of laughter.

“Thanks a bunch,” Laura said, smiling.

“Well, I’m off to The Triple Bar,” Betty said, placing the eggs in the refrigerator. She removed a covered dish and bumped the refrigerator door closed with her hip. “Jolene is laid up with a broken ankle, and I’m taking a casserole over for their supper. I’ll be gone the better part of the day, I imagine, because Jolene loves to chatter.”

“It’s nice of you to keep her company, and I’m sure her family will appreciate having one of your delicious casseroles for their supper.”

“Well, I’ll see you later. Oh, and, Laura? The next time you stay out all night, turn off your bedroom light before you leave, would you? No sense in running up the electric bill for no reason.”

“Oh, good grief.” Laura plunked one elbow on the table and rested her forehead in her hand. “How embarrassing. How mortifying. How…”

“Normal,” Betty finished for her. “There’s no shame in being a healthy young woman with wants and needs. I just couldn’t resist taking a poke at you, but I’m certainly not passing judgment. In fact, I’m more inclined to say good for you. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“’Bye,” Laura mumbled.

A heavy silence fell over the room and Laura drained her coffee mug quickly, wishing to escape from the sudden chill of loneliness that dropped over her like a dark cloud.

She spent the next hour writing breezy letters to her parents, her sister, Linda, and her best friend since childhood, Olivia, who was now a busy mother of four back in Michigan.

In none of the letters was there one word about Laura’s magical night with John.

No, she thought, placing the stamp on the third envelope. Those memories were hers alone. She’d keep them tucked safely in her heart for all time.

Maybe when she was old and gray, she’d sit in a rocking chair and tell Olivia and Linda about the magnificent man who had touched her life so briefly, but so deeply.

But not now. No, not now.

Laura wandered up to the main road fronting the ranch and put the letters in the mailbox to be picked up by the rural delivery man. Thunder rumbled in the distance and dark clouds edged the horizon.

Back in the house, she switched her cotton blouse for a red sweater, which she wore over gray corduroy slacks, then she made a fire in the hearth in the living room.

Settling into one of the big, comfortable chairs by the fireplace, she actually managed to become engrossed in the mystery novel she was reading.

An hour later, a sharp knock sounded at the front door and Laura jerked at the sudden noise.

She hadn’t heard a vehicle approach the house, she thought, settling the book on the table next to the chair. Maybe one of the ranch hands was looking for Betty.

She got to her feet.

But the men used the mudroom door, she remembered, as she crossed the room. Maybe she’d been concentrating so much on her book that she hadn’t heard a knock on the rear door. And the thunder was still rumbling noisily so…well, whatever.

Laura opened the door with a pleasant expression on her face.

Then she stopped breathing as a gasp caught in her throat.

Standing before her, with a blanket-covered bundle on his shoulder, was John.

John, her mind hammered in disbelief. Her man of the magical night. Magnificent, tall, powerful, sensitive, compelling John was staring right at her with a shocked expression on his face.

Dear heaven, how had he found her? What was he doing here?

Chapter Three

John felt as though he’d been punched in the gut as he stared at Laura, who was staring at him.

His first thought when Laura had appeared in the doorway was that he was imagining she was there.

He’d written her a short, heartfelt note that morning, then stood next to the bed in the motel, losing track of time as he’d watched her sleep. He hadn’t wanted to leave that room, leave Laura and the magic they’d created together.

Their lovemaking had been fantastic, far beyond the usual physical release. He had made love with a woman, not to a woman, the union being intertwined with emotions, some of which he couldn’t identify. Incredible.

It had taken every bit of willpower he possessed to finally turn and walk out of that room. He’d emerged into the crisp morning air and closed the door behind him with a quiet click.

Then reality had slammed against him. He was about to see his son—his son—for the first time. He would take responsibility for that baby, then begin a life-style that was so foreign and so damn frightening.

Laura’s words of the previous night echoed in his head as he’d driven the miles to where Jeremiah was waiting for him. He’d clung to what Laura had said like a lifeline, hearing her state so sincerely that he would do fine in his role of father by just being himself and following his paternal instincts.

Laura. She was so pretty, real and honest, so caring. He had bared his soul to her, and it had felt so right to share his innermost feelings and fears.

Laura was special. What they’d shared in those stolen hours had been like nothing he’d experienced before. But he’d had to let her go to concentrate entirely on his son and their future together.

And now?

Laura was honest-to-God standing two feet in front of him.

What in the hell was she doing here?

“What are you…” Laura and John said in unison.

They stopped speaking and both frowned.

“This is crazy,” John said gruffly. “What are you doing on The Rocking C?”

“I live here,” Laura said, amazed that she could still speak. “Sort of.”

“You live here?” he said. “I live here. Sort of.” He paused and shook his head. “Damn it, Laura, this is my family’s ranch, the Colton spread. I’m John Colton.”

“Oh…my…God,” Laura whispered, her eyes widening. “You’re John Colton? Oh, dear heaven. John Colton? Oh, good grief.”

“You’re very articulate, Laura. Would you mind telling me who you are?” John narrowed his eyes. “Are you my brother’s wife, or whatever?”

“No, of course not. That’s insulting, considering that you and I…Never mind. I’m Laura Bishop and I—you’re John Colton?”

“Would you cut that out?” he said, none too quietly. The blanket-covered bundle he was holding stirred. “Oh, man, I’m waking him up.”

“That’s Jeremiah,” Laura said breathlessly. “That’s your son.”

“Bingo. Would it meet with your approval, Ms. Bishop, if I came into my house?”

“Oh. Oh. Yes, of course.” Laura stepped back quickly to allow John to enter the house. “I’m sorry, very sorry. Come in.”

John strode into the living room, shooting Laura a dark glare as he passed her. He went to the sofa facing the fireplace and eased the baby slowly from his shoulder, placing him on the soft cushions. Jeremiah wiggled, then stilled, as he slept on.

On trembling legs, Laura moved to stand next to John. She looked at the sleeping baby and her breath caught.

Jeremiah was a miniature John, she thought incredulously, feeling a funny little tug on her heart. The baby had the same silky dark brown hair, straight nose, square little jaw as his father. This was Jeremiah, John’s son.

And this magnificent man of the magical night, she thought frantically, sliding a glance at John, was John Colton, or rather, heaven help her, Prince James Wyndham of Wynborough.

John took off his jacket and Stetson, tossed them onto a chair, then crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Laura, who was staring at the baby again.

“Oh, John,” she said softly, “Jeremiah is so beautiful. What a wonderful son you have.”

“He’s not the subject at the moment. You have some explaining to do,” John said, “and this better be good. My first question is, where is my brother, Mitch? Is he out on the range working? And where’s Betty?”

“That’s three questions,” Laura said, smiling weakly as she shifted her attention to him. “Sorry,” she added quickly, as John’s frown deepened. “I was just attempting to lighten things up a tad.”

She hurried over to the chair where she’d been reading so peacefully an eternity ago, and sank onto it gratefully.

“You have to realize, John,” she said, “that your suddenly appearing here, your being who you are, is a tremendous shock to me.”

“No more than my finding you in my family’s home.” He dragged a restless hand through his hair. “Let’s start at the top. Why are you here?”

“Maybe you should sit down.”

“No.”

“Please?” Laura said.

“Hell,” John said, then slouched onto the chair opposite her.

Laura clutched her hands tightly in her lap, then drew a steadying breath.

“John,” she said, “do you remember my telling you that I work for a prominent family and was in Hope to complete an assignment?”

John propped his elbows on the arms of the chair, then made a steeple of his fingers which he rested lightly against his lips.

“I remember,” he said. “So?”

“So, the assignment was to wait here on The Rocking C until you, until John Colton, returned home for a visit.”

“Well, I’m here in living, breathing color. What do you want me for?”

“I’m…I’m supposed to tell you…that is, it’s been discovered that…What I’m trying to say is…”

“Damn it, Laura,” John said, then glanced quickly at Jeremiah. “Just spit it out, would you?”

Laura lifted her chin. “John, you were kidnapped as an infant and believed, by your family, to be dead. You were left at The Sunshine Home for Children, and adopted by the Coltons.”

John narrowed his eyes but didn’t speak.

“As unbelievable as this may sound, we strongly suspect you are Prince James Wyndham of Wynborough, the biological son and heir of King Phillip and Queen Gabriella. There. I did it. I told you.”

A grin slowly began to appear on John’s face, then grew bigger. He slid his hands to the back of his head and chuckled.

“Mitch cooked this up, right?” he said. “He decided I’d been away too long and was due to visit the old homestead. Man, he really outdid himself with this nonsense. Where is he? I want to tell him to his face that I didn’t buy into this for a second. A prince, huh? That’s rich. My big brother has a hell of an imagination.”

“John,” Laura said quietly, “every word I’ve said is true. I swear to you that it is. You are Prince James Wyndham of Wynborough.” She paused. “We recently learned of a blanket that was with you when you were left at The Sunshine Home, a blanket with the royal crest on it and—”

“Wait a minute,” John said, raising one hand from behind his head. “A crest? What kind? What does it look like?”

“I’ll show you,” Laura said, getting to her feet. “I have some stationery with the Wyndham crest embossed on the top.”

Laura hurried to her room and returned with a sheet of expensive paper, which she handed to John. She sat back down, her gaze riveted on John as he stared at the crest on the paper.

After a few tension-filled moments, he pulled the chain he wore around his neck free of his shirt and looked at the tiny ring attached. He shifted his eyes to the paper, then back to the ring.

Laura felt a warm flush stain her cheeks as she remembered grasping that small ring while making love with John. She’d held in her hand the proof that John Colton was Prince James Wyndham.

“No,” he said, lunging to his feet. “Mitch knows I was wearing this ring when I was abandoned. He’s seen it often enough to have this stationery printed up as part of the joke.”

Laura sighed. “Call around. Discover for yourself if there is a place named Wynborough, if the heir to the throne was kidnapped as a baby, and ask what the Wyndham family crest looks like. Go ahead, John, do it. You obviously aren’t going to believe me”

John sat back down in the chair and propped his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together loosely. He stared at Laura, studying her intently, as though he was attempting to peer inside her head. She met his gaze directly as she lifted her chin.

“John,” she said finally, splaying one hand on her chest, “this is me, Laura. I’m the same woman I was last night, the one who shared…shared so much with you. I wouldn’t lie to you, John. Somewhere, deep inside you, you know that.”

Several seconds ticked by in heavy silence, then John shook his head and leaned back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling.

“No,” he said, “you wouldn’t lie to me.” He looked at Laura again. “All right, I believe you, but it’s just too much to deal with. I have enough on my plate with finding out that I’m a father. Jeremiah comes first. What you’ve told me has to go on the back burner for now.”

“But—”

“No, I don’t want to discuss it any further at the moment. Don’t push me on this, Laura. I can only handle so much at once.” He paused. “Where’s Mitch?”

“Oh, dear,” Laura said. “Well, Mitch married Alexandra Wyndham, the eldest princess of Wynborough, your…your sister. They’re expecting a baby. The whole family is in Wynborough for the marriage of Elizabeth, another one of your sisters, to Rafe Thorton, who is actually Prince Raphael of Thortonburg. I stayed here on The Rocking C to wait for your return home.”

“Oh, man,” John said, shaking his head. “I’m Prince James of wherever. Mitch has married a princess, who is actually my sister and—well, forget it. My brain is on overload and I’ve had enough of this.”

Thunder rumbled across the sky.

John got to his feet. “I have to unload Jeremiah’s stuff from the back of the truck before it starts to rain.” He started toward the door, then stopped. “Watch Jeremiah, will you?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, I will.”

As John disappeared out the front door, Laura moved to sit on the end cushion of the sofa, a soft smile forming on her lips as she stared at the sleeping baby.

His hands were splayed on either side of his head and his lips were slightly parted. He was dressed in blue corduroy overalls, a faded red jersey and a pair of white socks with a hole in one toe.

“Hello, Jeremiah,” Laura whispered.

Oh, she wanted to scoop him up, she thought wistfully. She’d inhale his special baby aroma as she held that sturdy little body close and safe. He’d done nothing more than sleep in baby innocence and he was already staking a claim on her heart.

John made numerous trips between the house and the truck, producing a dismantled white crib, mattress, a tattered car seat, high chair, several cardboard boxes and two paper sacks.

As he slid the last box into place, it skidded into the pieces of the crib that were propped against the wall, causing them to slide down onto the hardwood floor with a loud crash.

Jeremiah jerked, opened his eyes, took one look at Laura and cut loose with an earsplitting wail.

John spun around. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Laura said, jumping to her feet. “It was you, making all that racket. You woke him up out of a sound sleep and it frightened him.” She looked at the baby. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

John strode to the back of the sofa, reached over and picked up Jeremiah, nestling him against his broad shoulder. The baby quieted, then stuck his thumb in his mouth.

Laura smiled. “Well, look at that. You have a father’s touch.”

“Yeah, right,” John said, frowning.

Jeremiah popped his thumb out of his mouth and grabbed John’s nose. The baby gurgled happily.

“Like my nose, sport?” John said, smiling. “It’s a handy toy, huh? Sticking right out there for you.”

“He’s so adorable,” Laura said with a sigh.

“Yep, he’s cute.”

“He looks exactly like you, John.”

“Think so?” he said, obviously pleased with the statement.

“Oh, heavens, yes. He’s a miniature…you.” Laura paused and frowned. “Where’s his jacket?”

John frowned again as Jeremiah continued to pat, then grab, his daddy’s nose.

“He doesn’t have a jacket,” John said. “He doesn’t even have a pair of shoes. His crib is a piece of junk and…I feel so damn guilty that he doesn’t have decent stuff.”

“I don’t think you should swear like that in front of him, John. He’s at the age where he’ll start parroting what he hears.”

“Oh. Right. No swearing. But, hell—I mean, heck—he needs a new crib, clothes, toys. Look at the car seat. It’s a mess, probably wouldn’t even pass the safety codes.” He paused. “Uh-oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Laura said.

“He may be beating my nose to death, but it still works. Jeremiah needs his diaper changed.”

“That’s nice,” Laura said pleasantly. “Go for it.”

“Me?” he said, his eyes widening. “I’ve never changed a baby’s diaper.”

Laura threw out her arms. “Neither have I. I’ve spent time with my sister’s kids and my friend Olivia’s little ones, but I never changed a diaper on any of them.”

“Where’s Betty?” John said, a slight edge of panic in his voice.

“She’s gone to The Triple Bar and expects to be away most of the day.”

“Ah, hell!”

“John, watch your mouth!”

Jeremiah took exception to the loud exchange and burst into tears.

Laura came to where John stood holding the wailing baby. She placed her hand on Jeremiah’s back at the exact moment John moved his hand to do the same. John’s hand covered Laura’s and she snapped her head up to meet his gaze.

Jeremiah drew a shuddering breath, then stuck his thumb in his mouth.

Laura and John didn’t move. They stood there, hands layered on the baby’s back, memories of the previous night rushing over them in a sensuous cascade of vivid images.

Their hearts began to beat in a rapid tempo as heat swirled and tightened low in their bodies. Desire seemed to hum through the air with an ever-increasing intensity, weaving around and through them.

“No,” John said, jerking his hand away.

“What?” Laura blinked, bringing herself back from the hazy, passion-laden place she’d floated to.

John took a step backward and shook his head. “No, Laura. I told you last night that I couldn’t see you again, that I had to concentrate entirely on Jeremiah. The fact that you’re here, on The Rocking C, doesn’t change that. We have to pretend, behave—whatever—as though last night never happened.”

“I understand,” she said quietly, wrapping her hands around her elbows. “Yes, of course. You’re right.”

“Good. Fine.” John paused and sighed. “Look, I don’t mean to sound like an unfeeling son of a—” he glanced quickly at Jeremiah “—gun, but this is the way it has to be. My son deserves my full attention.”

Laura nodded, inwardly fuming at herself for the devastating sense of rejection she was registering, along with a chill of loneliness.

She knew, darn it, she knew that what John was saying was the way it had to be, was the sensible, agreed-upon plan. They’d had their magical night together and hadn’t expected ever to cross paths again. She knew that.

But, oh, it hurt so much to see John step away from her, to erect a nearly tangible wall between them.

Laura, please, she mentally begged, get a grip She had to regain control of her raging emotions before she burst into tears and made a complete fool of herself.

“No problem, John,” she said, hoping her voice was steadier than it sounded to her own ears. “It’s just a crazy coincidence that we even saw each other again. Last night happened, it’s over, so be it. There’s no reason to think about it again.”

The hell there isn’t, John thought. Their night…all of it, every moment…the talking, sharing, the lovemaking, had been incredible, beyond belief. Laura was dismissing it all as no big deal? How could she do that? How could she just—

Damn it, Colton, he rebuked himself. Laura was doing exactly what he said he was. He’d just told her that their time together had to be forgotten even though they were both there at the ranch.

But, oh, man, he wanted to pull Laura into his arms, kiss her, taste her, feel her slender body pressed to his. He wanted to make love with her until they were both too exhausted to move. He wanted to experience the magic again…with Laura.

Jeremiah wiggled and began to whine, and John looked at his son.

He wanted to hold Laura in his arms? he thought. There was no room for her there, because he was holding this defenseless child who had no one to take care of him, to love him, except a father who didn’t even know how to change a diaper.

No, there was no place for Laura in his life. No space, emotionally or physically, for anyone but Jeremiah.

“All right,” John said, then cleared his throat. “We understand each other then. I focus on my son. You do…whatever it is that you do.”

“I’ll be contacting the royal family in Wynborough,” Laura said coolly, “and informing them that you’ve returned and now know the facts of your true identity, your heritage.”

“Ah, Laura, don’t do that,” he said, frowning. “I don’t have the time, or mental energy, to think about what you told me. I don’t want those people descending on me like a pack of vultures.”

“Those people,” Laura said, her volume on high again, “are your family. They are not a pack of vultures, as you so crudely put it.”

“No, Laura, my family includes my son, my brother, Mitch, and my parents, Robert and Cissy Colton. That’s it. End of story. I don’t want anything to do with your fancy king and queen, and princesses, or with being a prince, for Pete’s sake. I’m John Colton. Got that?”

“John, would you think about the Wyndhams’ feelings for one moment? They thought you were dead. Oh, can’t you understand what it will mean to them to know you as you now are, welcome you into their—”

“No,” he interrupted. “It’s too late. I’ve gotten along just fine without them. My son is what matters most. I’m concentrating on Jeremiah. That’s it. No one else is important. No one.”

Laura cringed, feeling as though she’d been struck by a physical blow. It was there again, the pain of rejection, the chill of loneliness.

No one else is important. No one

“Yes, well, I’ll explain to the Wyndhams that you have a tremendous responsibility right now,” she said quietly, “and it would be best if they waited until…I can’t guarantee how they’ll react, but I’ll do the best I can. I have to tell them that you’re here, though, John. I’d be remiss in fulfilling the obligations of my position if I didn’t.”

“Heaven forbid,” he said, sarcasm ringing in his voice.

“I don’t want to argue with you, John,” Laura said wearily. “I suggest you change your son’s diaper before he becomes unhappy. I’ll be in my room.”

“Hey, wait a minute. Aren’t you going to help me with this diaper business?”

“No,” she said, walking past him. “There’s no room for anyone in your life except Jeremiah, remember? Welcome to the world of fatherhood. You’re on your own.”

“Well, hell,” John said as Laura disappeared from view. He looked at Jeremiah. “You didn’t hear that, sport. Okay. Diaper time. How tough can this be?”

Twenty minutes later, John lay spread-eagle on his back on the plush area rug in front of the fire-place. Jeremiah sat next to him, beating merrily on John’s chest with a wooden spoon.

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