The Pregnant Princess

As he waited impatiently for the facts he’d requested, the assistant’s other words sank in. Meeting a man. A man! Who the hell would Elizabeth know in Phoenix other than him? She was pregnant with his baby, damn it!

Five minutes later, he was climbing back into his truck and heading for the highway.

He drove south out of Phoenix on Interstate 10, heading toward Casa Grande. The concierge had told him that Elizabeth had asked for directions to Catalina, a little town nestled between the Tortolita mountain range and the Coronado National Forest just north of Tucson. She had maybe an hour’s start on him—how the hell was he going to find her?

Especially if she was meeting some other man.

It was only with the greatest restraint that he could keep himself from snarling at the woman’s naïveté. She didn’t know the first thing about men. Elizabeth had no business haring off to meet another man, and when he found her he was going to let her know in no uncertain terms that as the father of her baby, he wouldn’t tolerate another man hanging around his…

His what?

Nothing, he told himself. Nothing. She doesn’t belong to you. You need this princess in your life like you need heat rash.

It was hot.

She didn’t think she’d ever experienced this kind of heat before. She’d vacationed on islands in warm climates, but nothing she could recall resembled this dry, draining heat that leached every ounce of energy from her. Of course, she’d never been on a tropical island when she was pregnant, either, and she’d nearly always had a pool or a beautiful ocean in which to cool off.

Elizabeth bent over the motor of the rental car again. This was dreadful. She had no idea what she might be looking for among all the black, greasy parts and metal pipes. All she knew was that a white, billowing cloud of smoke had begun to leak from beneath the bonnet of the automobile about thirty minutes ago, and that when she’d pulled off the road to investigate the sedan wouldn’t start again.

Fear coiled and her fingers shook as she tentatively reached forward and lightly tapped a piece of metal. It was easy to call herself a dunce. An hour ago, a jaunt down an American highway to find the man who might be her brother had sounded like a grand lark. Now it sounded like the height of folly.

No chauffeur. No bodyguard. No car phone. Off the main road on a little side highway with not a building in sight. Her parents would be terribly distressed if they knew. It hadn’t seemed so foolish to her when she’d had the idea. She was so awfully weary of being followed, escorted, fussed over everywhere she went. This had seemed like the perfect time to see how it felt to be normal.

Now all she could think was that if someone would rescue her, she’d offer him a title in his own right. Peering into the engine one more time, she picked up the black umbrella she’d brought along and held it open above her head, providing a bit of shade from the sun if not from the heat.

The thought of what Rafe would say if he were here only served to lower her spirits even more. He thought she was a silly, helpless girl who’d been sheltered from the real world her entire life. She could see his disdain in his eyes when he looked at her.

Was he right? She thought of the organ donor campaign with which she’d consented to work, of the hospital visits she’d made in the name of her other charity, a hospice in Wynborough’s capital city. She’d seen suffering. She’d seen death. She wasn’t a hothouse flower who had fluff for brains.

Oh? Then why are you standing here in the heat beside a crippled auto?

She was going to pray to God Rafe never found out about this. Then again, why should he? When he’d slammed out of her suite last night, she’d known she would never see him again.

Far down the road, something distracted her from her morose thoughts. A car! A car on the highway coming toward her. It was moving quite fast over the straight, flat terrain, and as it drew closer she could see it was a truck. Not that it mattered as long as the driver would be willing to take her to Catalina. In Catalina she could accomplish her goal, which was to locate Samuel Flynn, the man who once was an orphan in The Sunshine Home for Children, the home she and her sisters were sure their kidnapped brother had been brought thirty years ago.

Her stomach quivered, and she hoped it was at the thought of locating her brother, presumed dead for so long. What a coronation anniversary gift that would make for her father!

Her stomach quivered again, and she wiped a drop of sweat from her temple before it could trickle down her cheek. The truck was drawing to a halt behind her car now, and she squinted as the driver stepped out, forcing her dry lips into a welcoming smile. Until she recognized the big broad-shouldered figure of the Prince of Thortonburg walking toward her.

Curses. The day was rapidly assuming the proportions of a major disaster. She closed her eyes, hoping he was a mirage, but she was forced to open them quickly by a wave of vertigo. He was still there.

His expression was forbidding as he strode toward her. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“It’s lovely to see you again, too, Mr. Thorton. How coincidental that you should be traveling the same road as I.” She tilted her chin, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm.

“You know perfectly well it’s not coincidence. I was coming after you. You have no business traipsing around an American desert without an escort.”

“Thank you for your opinion. Where I traipse and with whom is not your concern, sir.” She would have stuck her nose even higher in the air, but she was forced to close her eyes as another round of dizziness seized her.

“Elizabeth!” She felt his big hands catch her elbows.

“You may address me as ‘Your Royal Highness’—oh!” She squeaked in alarm as Rafe scooped her up in his arms and swung her around, and she clutched at his shoulders as the world spun crazily around her. “Put me down!”

“Gladly.” His booted feet crunched on gravel as he set her on her feet, and she opened a cautious eye to see that he had brought her around to the passenger side of his truck. Keeping one arm about her, he leaned around her and opened the door, then set his hands at her waist and easily lifted her into the enclosed cab.

He’d left the engine and the air conditioner running. Beneath her legs in her thin dress the leather seat was cool, and she was blessedly shaded from the vicious sun. She almost whimpered with delight, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she lay her head against the back of her seat and blotted her forehead with a tissue from her purse.

“What’s wrong with the car?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I was trying to figure that out when you came along.”

“Right.” He gave a snort of amusement. “Why did you stop along the road in the middle of nowhere?”

“There was smoke coming from beneath the bonnet.”

“Smoke?” He looked alarmed. “Are you sure it wasn’t steam?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. Smoke, steam, something like that.”

“There’s a pretty big difference,” he informed her. Then he straightened. “Put your seat belt on.” He slammed the passenger door with more force than necessary, making her wince.

She watched through the windshield as he walked back to the blue Lincoln and retrieved the keys before locking its door and coming back to the big truck. Today he was wearing jeans again, jeans that caressed the solidly muscled contours of his legs like a lover’s hands. She remembered the feel of those strong limbs against hers, the heat of his skin and the rough texture of the hair liberally sprinkled over it. The feminine core of her tightened with pleasure, but she sternly reminded herself that theirs had been a single encounter, that the Prince of Thortonburg had made it abundantly clear that she was going to be no part of his life.

A lump in her throat warned her to change the direction of her thoughts, and as Rafe approached the truck, she catalogued the rest of his clothing. With the jeans, he had donned a white shirt, the sleeves of which he’d turned back several times. On his head was a broad-brimmed white straw hat like American cowboys wore. And, as he had since she’d first seen him again, he was wearing a pair of boots. She’d noticed last night that even with his suit he’d worn a polished pair of black leather boots with intricate stitching.

He slid easily into the driver’s seat and fastened his own seat belt before backing the truck up and turning a wide circle in the highway.

“Wait! I want to go to Catalina,” she said.

“Tough.” He didn’t even look at her. “You’re coming back to Phoenix and going to the doctor, then you’re going to lie down and rest.”

“To the doctor?” She gaped at him. “I don’t need a doctor.”

“I want you to be looked over anyway,” he said. “You were mighty close to heatstroke back there.” He reached behind the seat and pulled a thermos forward. “Drink. You didn’t even have extra water with you,” he said in a scathing tone.

“I’m not used to the climate here,” she said with quiet dignity. “I’m aware that you think I’m a brainless fool, so you can stop rubbing my nose in it.”

“Princess,” he said, “I haven’t even started. What in hell are you thinking, running around here without a bodyguard?”

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And anyway the hotel assistant and the concierge knew my destination.”

“They wouldn’t have been much help if you’d spent hours out here in the sun.”

The only answer to that was silence, and she turned her head to gaze out the window, closing her eyes to shut him out.

She must have napped, because she woke, groggy and disoriented, as they were entering the outskirts of Phoenix. Hastily, she straightened in her seat, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“Have a good nap?”

So much for wishes. She didn’t answer him.

“Why were you going to Catalina?”

She was growing mightily sick of his constant interrogations. “I wanted to visit the next of my many lovers to see if he could be the father of my child,” she snapped.

There was a moment of silence in the truck, a silence that nearly vibrated with electricity.

“I apologize,” he said in a low growl. “I know it’s my child.”

He did? Momentarily stunned, she turned her head to stare at him. He glanced over at her and his blue eyes were dark and sober. He looked nearly as shocked as she felt.

There didn’t seem to be much to say after that. She went back to staring out the window, though she was no longer seeing the landscape that was so foreign to her, no longer enjoying the contrast between what she’d grown up with and the stark, dry, blindingly bright Arizona desert.

He believed her. That one thought kept running through her mind, and she wondered what had convinced him. Yesterday he’d appeared to doubt her claim. The memory of her naïveté made her wince inwardly, and she took a deep breath to stave off the tears that wanted to rise again.

She’d promised herself last night that Rafe Thorton, under whatever name he chose to use, was never going to make her cry again. She’d been stupid and she’d learned a lesson from her stupidity. Several, in fact.

“How do you feel?” Rafe’s voice broke into her thoughts, gruff and deep and distinctly noncommittal.

As if you care, she thought.

“Fine, thank you.” She made her voice as chilly as possible while still being scrupulously polite.

“You’re not used to this climate,” he stated. “You’ll have to be doubly careful of the heat, especially in your condition.”

“Thank you for the advice. I’m sure it will prove invaluable.”

His mouth tightened and she was pleased to see that she was annoying him. He didn’t speak to her again, but picked up the phone that was installed in the truck and punched in a number, then tapped his fingers impatiently against the wheel while he waited.

She wondered who he was calling, then decided she didn’t really care. But she couldn’t prevent herself from glancing over at him.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Rafe suddenly became animated. Apparently someone had answered on the other end. Someone female, she suspected, from the way his face relaxed and his teeth flashed in a grin that sent an arrow through her heart. He’d smiled at her like that once, she remembered.

And you fell for it, dummy.

“In the desert,” he said and she reasoned that the woman had asked him where he was. “Listen,” he said, “I have a weird question. I need to know the name and number of a reputable obstetrician in Phoenix.”

There was silence on his end and one black eyebrow quirked up, then he laughed, a low and intimate chuckle that set Elizabeth’s teeth on edge. “A friend,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”

He scrabbled in the side pocket on his door and came up with a piece of paper and a pencil, tossing them at Elizabeth. “Write this down,” he mouthed.

She glared at him, but as he repeated the name and number she did take them down, then slid the paper back across the seat to him.

“Okay, babe. You’re one in a million. I’ll call you later today.” Removing the phone from his ear, he punched the button to cut off the connection and let it dangle from his fingers for a moment while he drove. Then he studied the information on the paper and dialed again.

While he was talking, Elizabeth sat in miserable silence. Could things get any worse? Obviously, Rafe had a girlfriend, or someone special in his life. The silly fantasies she’d woven about him—about them together—seemed pathetic and ridiculous now. How could she have been so stupid? She might have led a somewhat sheltered life, but she knew what the world was like. Men got women pregnant every day of the week because they acted on sexual attraction without thinking. The resulting condition had nothing to do with affection or love or respect or long-term plans.

Now she was another one of those sad statistics, and her child would be fatherless because of her carelessness.

The words appointment this morning, penetrated her absorption, and she was startled into looking over at Rafe again.

“No! I don’t need a doctor.”

He ignored her.

“I won’t go.” She tugged at his forearm to get his attention. A mistake. Beneath her fingers, his bare flesh was hot, and the thick hair that grew along his arm was silky in texture.

“Cancel it,” she said fiercely.

“Thorton,” he said to the person on the phone. “Elizabeth Thorton.”

Her fingers clenched on his arm. Then she realized she was still holding on to him and she snatched back her hand. Again his eyebrow slid up into a bold dark arch as he threw her a questioning look. But before she could find her voice, he’d concluded the call and hung up again.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Making you a doctor’s appointment,” he said easily. “I want to make sure you and the baby are none the worse for wear after spending the morning standing in the sun.”

“I don’t need a doctor. Go on back to your girlfriend and leave me alone.” She tried to infuse the words with command, but even to her she sounded weak and cranky.

“My girlfriend…” He shot her a smug grin. “That was my secretary on the phone. She has twin grandsons, so she’s not exactly competition.”

“I’m not competing.” So there. “Why didn’t you use my real name?”

“Would you rather I’d given your real name?” he asked.

She drew in a sharp breath as his words penetrated, then slumped back against the seat. “No,” she admitted in a muted tone. “My parents don’t know yet.”

“Mind if I ask how long you were going to wait?” He sounded more than slightly shocked.

“I wanted to tell you first,” she said quietly. “When I get home, there won’t be any reason to delay.”

“You’re going home soon?”

Did she imagine the slight sharpness in his tone? She shrugged. “As soon as my business here is concluded.”

“Your business in Catalina? You never did tell me why you were going there.”

“No,” she said with more calm than she felt. “I didn’t.”

Three

She wasn’t one bit happy with him, Rafe reflected as he unlocked the door of his Phoenix home shortly after lunch. He eyed the rigid line of Elizabeth’s back and the regal tilt of her small, dimpled chin. They didn’t call her Princess for nothing.

When she’d realized that despite her protests he was adamant about taking her to a doctor, she’d become quietly furious. Through the appointment, and the quick lunch they’d had afterward, she hadn’t spoken one word to him beyond the absolute minimum civility required. If she appreciated his concern for protecting her anonymity, it sure didn’t show.

Now he ushered her into his spacious foyer, wondering what she thought of the skylights that let in the bright, cheerful sunlight, the flagstone floors and the soft pastel colors of the desert that he’d wanted for his private spaces. He’d designed it himself, initially intending to use it as a display for potential clients. But he’d liked it so much, he hadn’t been able to part with it in the end.

Elizabeth halted about three feet into the foyer and turned to face him. “May I use your telephone, please? I’ll put any charges on my calling card.”

He glared at her, oddly disappointed that she didn’t even seem to notice his home, and irritated that she would bring up a silly thing like telephone charges. “The phone is right through here.”

He showed her into his casually appointed den, then left her to go into the kitchen and get each of them a cold drink. The doctor had felt that Elizabeth was in good condition although he had advised her to drink plenty of fluids while she was in Arizona, a dictate Rafe fully intended to see she followed.

From his vantage point around the corner he could clearly hear Elizabeth’s conversation. His upbringing and conscience protested the eavesdropping, but since she wouldn’t talk to him, he told himself he’d have to find out all he could through any method available.

“Yes, this is Elizabeth. Is my mother there?”

A ten-pound load dropped from Rafe’s shoulders. So she wasn’t calling another man! She was calling her parents. Not that it mattered terribly to him, he assured himself.

“Mummy? Hello, it’s Eliz—yes, yes, I’m fine. Yes, I was afraid you’d worry since I didn’t call on time. Oh, please don’t cry. Mummy? Maybe you’d better put Daddy on the line.”

There was a pause, and Rafe remembered to clink a few ice cubes around in the glasses so she wouldn’t think he was spying.

“Hello, Daddy. Of course I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call first thing this morning as I promised. I rented a car but it broke down on a highway while I was on a little day trip. But I’m fine. I’ve met someone you know. Well, I suppose he’s an American now, but he was from Thortonburg once. He calls himself Rafe Thorton now, but you know him as the Prince of Thortonburg. What’s that? Oh, no, I doubt I’ll see much of him. It was really more of a courtesy call on his part—Rafe!” She glared at him as he removed the receiver from her hand and held it to his own ear.

“Hello, Your Majesty. This is Thorton.” He knew he sounded clipped and discourteous, but talking to King Phillip was the last thing he’d planned on doing today. Or any day, for that matter.

“Hello, Raphael.” The King’s voice sounded warm and cordial. “It’s been far too long. The States must agree with you.” He didn’t sound annoyed, particularly.

“Give me that!” Elizabeth reached for the phone he’d taken out of her hand, but he held it above her head until she hissed at him and backed off.

He couldn’t resist grinning at her as he returned the receiver to his ear. She might pretend to be a lady, but there was fire beneath her calm surface. “Excuse me, Your Majesty. I rescued your daughter this morning from a spot of folly. Did she tell you she had no bodyguard or driver with her?”

“No one at all?” King Phillip sounded alarmed, but not particularly surprised. “I’m afraid Elizabeth doesn’t fully understand how careful she must be. She and her youngest sister spent hours trying to outwit their bodyguards as children. She’d become quite adept at sneaking about, and it’s made her a bit overconfident.”

“I agree, Your Majesty. I was a bit concerned myself.”

“Thank you for your assistance.” The monarch’s tones were as friendly as Rafe remembered from his childhood. He never had been able to understand how a man who appeared as nice as the King could conspire with a man as class-conscious as his own father. “Elizabeth will soon be leaving. I believe the dedication ceremony occurred yesterday.”

“It did.” Rafe hesitated. He should be leaping at the chance to get the princess out of his hair, but the thought of her flying back to Wynborough, thousands of miles away, bothered him. He needed more time to think, to decide how to handle this sticky situation with her and the baby before he let her get away.

“Sir, I don’t believe the princess should fly right now,” he said, turning his broad back on Elizabeth’s accusatory face. “She was through a bit of an ordeal this morning. Nothing serious, of course, but I’d be happy to offer her my hospitality until she feels herself again.”

“Thank you, Raphael.” The King sounded relieved. “That’s quite kind of you to look after her for us.”

“It will be my pleasure to look after her,” he said, turning to pin Elizabeth with a meaningful glance.

Her fair skin colored. She avoided his gaze as she reached for the phone, which he let her have this time. “Daddy, I’m twenty-seven years old,” she said into the receiver. “I hardly think I need looking after. In fact, I’d planned on leaving Phoenix today. I want to do a little sightseeing and then I’ll be returning to Mitch and Alexandra’s for a few days before I come home.” She laughed a little, but to Rafe’s ears it was a forced sound. “Yes, I know I’m the only one left. No, I promise I won’t run off with a cowboy.”

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