The Prince's Holiday Baby

He wanted to go back to Texas to see her again, and his friend’s upcoming wedding gave him the perfect excuse to do so. Of course, he would have to check in with Rowan first, to ensure there were no pressing matters that required his presence in Tesoro del Mar over the next few weeks.

Having decided he should discuss the matter with his brother, he wasn’t surprised when he received a call requesting his presence in the prince regent’s office. He was surprised to see Cameron Leandres leaving as he was entering.

“Who’s going to get fired for letting our cousin through the front gates?” he asked Rowan.

“No one.”

Eric took a seat across from his brother’s desk and raised his brows.

“I invited Cameron here to discuss the environmental concerns to be addressed at the summit in Berne next month.”

“The summit I’m attending?”

“The summit you were going to attend,” Rowan corrected. “I’ve asked Cameron to take your place.”

Eric was genuinely perplexed by this turn of events. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to be too busy overseeing the expansion of DELconnex U.S.A. into Europe to give this matter the attention it deserves.”

Eric scowled. “I haven’t told Scott I’d take the job.”

“But you want to.”

“How do you even know that he offered it to me?”

“I had to call to decline, with sincere regret, the invitation to Scott and Fiona’s wedding because it coincides with the opening of the new youth center in Rio Medio that I’ve already committed to attending. And while I was talking to him, I asked him what kind of offer he’d made to you this time.”

Everyone in the family knew that his friend had been trying to entice Eric to join his company since he first launched DELconnex nearly a decade earlier.

Eric and Scott had been friends since two decades before that, when six-year-old Scott Delsey had come with his family to Tesoro del Mar when his father was appointed U.S. ambassador to the small Mediterranean nation. As ambassador, Thomas Delsey had spent a lot of time at the palace, frequently with his wife and son. Scott had become friends with all of the princes but had developed a particularly close bond with Eric, who was also six at the time. It was a bond as strong as any of blood, and that had endured even after the ambassador had finished his tenyear term and returned with his family to the United States. Eric and Scott had gone to the same college and though they’d later gone their separate ways in life, they’d always remained in touch.

“It’s a tempting offer,” Rowan said now.

“I’ve resisted temptation before,” Eric told him, even as memories of his trip to Texas taunted him with the knowledge that he’d also succumbed to temptation—and quite happily.

“Why are you thinking of resisting?” his brother asked, and it took Eric a moment to haul his mind out of Molly’s bed and back to their conversation.

“Because you need me here.”

“I need a minister of international relations, and I think Cameron is well-suited to the position.”

“There was a time when he thought he was well-suited to your position, and tried to take it from you,” Eric felt compelled to remind him.

“That was six years ago.”

“Do you really think he’s changed?”

“I think I’d rather know what he’s doing than have to guess at it.”

Which Eric thought was a valid point. But he was still uneasy about his brother’s decision to give any real authority to their cousin—or maybe he was just feeling guilty that Rowan’s plan would allow him to do what he wanted when Rowan hadn’t been given the same choice.

“I’ve neglected my duties to this family for too many years already,” he protested.

“I probably can’t count the number of diplomatic dinners and political photo ops you skipped over the past dozen years,” the prince regent admitted. “But those were more than balanced out by the fact that you were serving your country.”

Eric was uncomfortable with the admiration and pride he heard in Rowan’s voice because he knew his service hadn’t been any greater than that of any of his brothers. “Which is no more than you did by giving up your life in London when Julian died, and coming home to run the country and raise his children. And you still do the diplomatic dinners and political photo ops, and more than anyone probably even knows.”

“It hasn’t all been a hardship,” Rowan said, with a smile that told Eric his brother was thinking of his wife and their family.

Eric lowered himself into the chair facing his brother’s. “How did you know Lara was the right woman for you?”

“I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “Or maybe I did but refused to admit it, because I knew getting involved with the royal nanny would create a situation fraught with complications. And it wasn’t so much that she was the right woman as she was the only woman—the only one I couldn’t get out of my mind, the only one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.”

“The only one who would put up with him, more likely,” Lara said from behind him.

Eric glanced at his sister-in-law, who was standing in the doorway with a ten-month-old baby tucked under one arm and a three-and-a-half-year-old holding her other hand. Her strawberry-blond hair looked a little more tousled than usual, and there was a stain on the shoulder of her blouse that he knew was courtesy of the baby, but despite the lateness of the hour and the obvious busyness of her day, her smile was still vibrant and beautiful.

Rowan had definitely lucked out when he’d fallen in love with Lara Brennan, Eric thought, with just the slightest twinge of envy. As Marcus had also done when he’d stopped by a little café in West Virginia and met—and eventually fallen in love with—Jewel Callahan. As Eric hoped he might luck out someday and find his own soul mate.

Unbidden, thoughts of Molly again nudged at his mind, but he pushed them aside.

“And I will forever be grateful for that,” Rowan said, smiling back at his wife.

“You can prove it by tackling the bedtime routine with a stubborn three-year-old,” she told him.

“It would be my pleasure,” Rowan said, holding out his arms to the little boy, who went rushing into them.

Eric had to smile at the obvious bond between father and son. It was hard to believe that when Rowan had taken on the responsibility for Julian and Catherine’s three children he had almost no experience with—and even less knowledge about—raising kids. Now Christian was seventeen and about to start college in the fall, Lexi was thirteen with a maturity well beyond her years and Damon was nine and still reveling in the joys of childhood and wreaking havoc on the household. Since their marriage, Lara and Rowan had added two of their own, and Rowan had not only embraced fatherhood but managed to juggle his various responsibilities to reflect his commitment to his family.

Eric wasn’t really surprised by the apparent ease of his older brother’s transition from footloose financier to responsible prince regent. Rowan had always taken his obligations seriously. More surprising to Eric was that his younger brother had willingly made similar changes in his life. He’d never seen Marcus look happier than when he was with Jewel and their baby daughter.

It was at the baptism for young Princess Isabella that Eric was first confronted by the emptiness of his life. Up until then, he’d never thought about what was missing. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that nothing seemed to be missing because his career had fulfilled him so completely.

Over the past three years, he’d had too much time to think, too much time to wonder if there should be something more, although he hadn’t really thought about his restless yearning for more in terms of a relationship until he’d met Molly.

“Bath time and story?” Rowan’s question to his son drew Eric’s attention back to the scene in the library.

“Story!” Matthew repeated with enthusiasm.

“After the bath,” his mother interjected firmly.

Matthew scowled as Rowan rose with him in his arms.

Eric chuckled. “What is it about little boys that makes them inherently allergic to bathwater?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Lara said, crossing the room to settle into the chair her husband had vacated. The baby rubbed his face on his mother’s shoulder, then popped his thumb in his mouth and snuggled in with a sigh.

Eric felt an unexpected pang as he watched Lara cuddle her infant son. Children were something else he hadn’t thought much about because he’d never been in a position to be a father, but spending time with his brothers’ children had changed that, too. He wanted a family of his own—a wife and children to come home to at the end of the day, to make plans and share dreams with and to simply be with.

Dios, that sounded pathetic, as if he couldn’t endure his own company. Or maybe he’d just been enduring his own company for too long. After unsuccessful romances, it had seemed easier to accept solitude than yet another relationship failure. But maybe it was finally time to reconsider that position.

“You and Rowan sure do make beautiful babies,” he commented to his sister-in-law now.

Lara smiled. “As much as I want to take credit, the dark hair and eyes are trademark Santiago.”

“But Matthew has your mouth and your smile, and William’s bone structure is just like yours.”

“Do you think so?” She seemed pleased that he would notice such details.

“As I said, you make beautiful babies.”

“And you’re a flatterer as much as both of your brothers,” she mused. “So what deep conversation between you and Rowan did I interrupt?”

“Nothing deep,” he assured her.

“You’ve met a woman,” she guessed.

He stared at her, baffled.

She laughed, and automatically rubbed the baby’s back when he started to stir. “I heard you ask your brother how he knew I was the right woman for him—it wasn’t much of a stretch to think that you’ve met someone who has you thinking in those terms.”

“I’ve just been thinking a lot about my life and my future,” he hedged. “And I wanted to tell Rowan about my plan to go back to Texas. It occurred to me that, as the best man, I should be available to help Scott with anything that needs to be done in the last few weeks before the wedding.”

Lara’s smile was just a little smug. “She’s in Texas, isn’t she?”

“Whatever you want to believe,” he said, knowing it was pointless to deny it.

The widening of her smile only proved she knew she was right. “When are you leaving?”

Chapter Three

Molly pulled a brush through her hair and wrapped an elastic band around it to hold the heavy mass off of her neck. It was only the end of May, not even officially summer yet, but even three days of almost steady rain had done little to alleviate the humidity and forecasters were warning that the season was going to be a brutal one.

As she stripped out of her shorts and T-shirt to change for work, she thought she could use a change of scenery and a break from the oppressive heat—a week or two away from the neverending problems at home. And she found herself wondering what the weather was like in Tesoro del Mar, if the summers were hot or if there were cool ocean breezes to regulate the temperature.

She wondered if Eric lived somewhere on the coast or in a crowded apartment in the city—or even if there were cities in Tesoro del Mar. She didn’t really know anything about the country, or even how big it was, and she didn’t know—if she decided to take a trip to the island, as she’d been thinking she might do—if there was any chance her path would cross with his.

It was a crazy idea—almost as crazy as spending the night with a man she didn’t know—and yet it was an idea that refused to be discarded.

She’d thought about him a lot since that single night they’d spent together, and not just since she’d learned that she was carrying his child.

But five days after her appointment with Dr. Morgan, she’d still made no effort to find her baby’s father and she knew it was past time she did so. She had plenty of legitimate excuses for the delay—including the hundred-and-one daily tasks that kept her at the restaurant for ten or more hours a day.

But the truth was, not one of those things had made her forget about the child she carried or the obligation she had to notify her baby’s father. She just didn’t know how she was going to track him down.

She booted up the computer and considered what she knew about Eric. Beyond his name, she knew that he lived in a country called Tesoro del Mar and that he’d been in the navy. It wasn’t much, but at least it was a start.

A swarm of butterflies winged around in her stomach as she logged onto the Internet and typed the words “Tesoro del Mar,” “Eric” and “naval accident” into the search engine.

She’d barely clicked Enter when the results filled the page.

Tesorian Navy News. Coast Guard Newsletter. Navy News—International Edition. MedSeaSecurityReport. Royal Watch. Naval Briefs. The Spanish Sailor.

She clicked on the first result, scanned the headline.

Prince Eric Injured in Naval Training Accident.

Prince Eric?

Definitely not the right Eric, she decided, and started to close the document when she noted the photo a little bit farther down on the page.

Her breath caught and her brow furrowed as she leaned closer to the screen for a better look.

It was him.

Her heart started to beat harder, faster.

She skimmed the article, barely noting any details of the accident that had resulted in the end of his career. Nothing seemed to matter beyond the title that jumped out at her from beneath his picture. “First Officer Prince Eric Santiago.”

It occurred to her that maybe “prince” wasn’t a royal title but a naval title. It certainly seemed a more feasible explanation than a member of a royal family wandering into her restaurant—and ending up in her bed.

She tried a different search this type, entering only “prince eric” and “tesoro del mar.”

Again, the results were almost instantaneous, and her hand trembled as she clicked on “theroyalhouseofsantiago.”

The site opened to a home page that showed a stunning castle of gleaming white stone in front of a backdrop of brilliant blue sky. She clicked on a link labeled “Members of the Royal Family,” which popped up a row of photos with names and links beneath them—one of which was Eric, “Principe de la Ciudad del Norte.”

She stared at the image, stunned by this confirmation that Eric wasn’t just a guy in a bar—he was a member of the royal family of Tesoro del Mar.

She’d slept with a prince.

And now she was pregnant with his child.

She had to tell him—the logical, rational part of her brain wouldn’t let her consider anything else. And now she knew where to find him, though she couldn’t imagine that she’d simply be permitted to walk up to the front door of the royal palace and announce that she was carrying the prince’s baby.

She couldn’t think about this right now—just the thought made her head spin.

Pushing away from the desk, she grabbed her cell phone before heading downstairs to make sure the restaurant was set up for dinner. She noticed the voice mail icon on the display and sighed as she dialed into her mailbox, determined to ignore whatever crisis had her sister tracking her down now. But it wasn’t Abbey’s number on the display, it was Fiona’s, and her cousin’s voice was quiet and muffled, as if she was trying not to cry.

Fiona wasn’t prone to dramatics, so her brief and teary “the wedding’s off” message had Molly detouring through the restaurant only long enough to make sure that Karen could stay behind the bar until she returned. As she drove the familiar route to her cousin’s ranch, it occurred to her that whatever had Fiona in a panic, it had succeeded in taking Molly’s mind off of Prince Eric Santiago.

At least for the moment.

When Eric contacted Scott’s fiancée to let her know that he was coming back to San Antonio, Fiona promised that a room would be ready for him and chatted excitedly about the final preparations for the wedding. But something happened between the time of his phone call and his arrival at the door so that she was no longer bubbling over with happiness but with tears.

Having spent most of his adult life in the navy, Eric felt completely out of his element when confronted by a weeping woman. Not that it was his job to comfort his friend’s fiancée—and thank God Scott was there to do that—but he still felt helpless. And clueless.

“We got a call from the manager of Harcourt Castle,” Scott explained, when Fiona’s sobs had quieted enough that conversation was possible.

“That’s where the wedding’s going to be, right?”

His friend gave a small shake of his head as he continued to pat Fiona’s back consolingly. “We’ve had a lot of rain over the past couple of days and some of the lower lying areas experienced flooding, including Harcourt.”

Eric knew a flood indicated water damage, which meant the venue was likely out of commission for several months—definitely past the date of the wedding.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Fiona sniffed.

“It’s not a sign,” Scott soothed his bereft fiancée. “Except for the fact that we’ll need to find another location for the wedding.”

She brushed her tears away and looked up at him, incredulous. “Less than a month before the date?”

For the first time since Eric had arrived on the scene, Scott looked uncertain. “Does that seem unlikely?”

“Not unlikely—” the tears began falling again, her words barely comprehensible “—impossible. And—” she gulped in a breath “—you know why I wanted the castle.”

“We met at Harcourt,” Scott explained to Eric.

“And he took me back there to ask me to marry him,” Fiona said, suddenly sobbing harder.

Yeah, Eric was definitely out of his element, and desperately wracked his brain for a solution—any solution—to stop the tears.

“Okay, so we’ll postpone the wedding for a few months,” Scott suggested.

“We’ve already sent out the invitations, ordered the cake, the flowers and—”

“I said postpone,” her fiancé interjected, “not cancel.”

She sighed. “It seems like we’ve been waiting so long already, and I just want to be married to you.”

“Then let’s do it,” Scott said impulsively. “Let’s forget all the chaos and crises, hop onto a plane to Vegas and get married.”

Fiona’s nose wrinkled. “Vegas?”

“I know it’s not what we’d planned, but we can have a big, blowout reception back here in a few months, when Harcourt Castle is reopened.”

His fiancée still hesitated.

Eric had never been to Vegas, but he’d seen enough movies to form an impression of the city and he could understand Fiona’s reluctance. She wanted ambience and elegance, and what Scott was offering was loud and garish. Okay, maybe that wasn’t an entirely fair assessment considering that he’d never stepped foot in the town, but he thought he’d gotten to know his friend’s fiancée well enough during his last visit to be certain it wasn’t what she’d envisioned.

“Vegas,” she said again, more contemplative than critical this time.

He figured it was a testament to how much Fiona loved Scott that she was even considering it.

“Or you could hop on a plane to a picturesque island in the Mediterranean and have a quiet ceremony on the beach and an intimate reception at the royal palace,” Eric offered as an alternative.

The future bride and groom swiveled their heads in his direction.

“Could we?” Scott asked.

“You said it was a small wedding?”

“Fifty-two guests,” his friend confirmed.

“We’d need to charter a plane but otherwise, there shouldn’t be any problem. So long as there’s nothing going on at the palace on that date, we could fly everyone in a few days early for a brief vacation on the island, then have the wedding as planned on Saturday.”

Fiona glanced from Eric to Scott and back again. “That sounds awfully expensive,” she said, but the sparkle was back in her eyes, revealing her enthusiasm.

“It would be my wedding gift to you,” Eric told her.

“A Crock-Pot is a wedding gift,” she said. “What you’re offering is…a dream.”

He shrugged. “You make my best friend happy. If this makes you happy, it’s a fair trade.”

Her smile was radiant. “Then I’ll say ’thank you.’ But we’ll stick with Scott’s plan to hold a formal reception back here in a few months and just have immediate family for the ceremony in Tesoro del Mar. And Molly, my maid of honor, of course.”

When Molly arrived at the ranch, she was both surprised and immensely relieved to learn that the crisis had already been diverted.

“I didn’t think anything could be more romantic than being married at Harcourt House,” Fiona gushed, all smiles instead of tears now. “But a wedding at a royal palace might just top everything else.”

Molly sank down onto the arm of a chair. “A royal palace?”

“Scott’s in the other room with Eric now, confirming the arrangements.”

The butterflies were swarming again.

Eric. The best man. The friend of Scott’s that Fiona had been talking about for months who somehow had access to a royal palace. Could it be—

No. It wasn’t possible. She’d just been so unnerved by the realization that her baby’s father was a prince that she was jumping to conclusions. Because as much as her cousin had talked about the best man, Fiona had never mentioned that he was royalty. Molly definitely would have remembered that.

She managed to smile. “So where is this royal palace?”

“It’s on an island in the Mediterranean called Tesoro del Mar. I’d never even heard of it before I met Eric, and I didn’t even know he was a prince until a few days ago. Scott said they’ve been friends for so long he doesn’t think about the fact that Eric is in line for the throne, but I nearly fainted when I found out. Can you believe the best man at my wedding is a prince?”

“Unbelievable,” Molly agreed, as thoughts and questions whipped around in her mind like dry leaves in a hurricane. And before she could grasp hold of even one of them, he was there.

He was standing in front of her—okay, across the room, but the distance did nothing to dilute the effect of his presence. His legs were as long as she remembered, his shoulders as broad, his jaw as strong, his eyes as dark.

Yes, she remembered all of the details—the thickness of his hair, the curve of his lips, the skill of his hands. But she hadn’t quite remembered—maybe hadn’t let herself remember—how completely fascinating he was as a whole.

He smiled at Fiona. “Everything’s confirmed.”

She threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, thank you, Eric. You’re the best.”

“That’s why he’s the best man,” Scott said, unconcerned by the fact that his fiancée was embracing another man. Eric chuckled.

The sound of that laugh, warm and rich and familiar, sent shivers down her spine, tingles to her center.

It was Scott who spotted Molly first, and he smiled. “Hey, Molly.”

Eric’s head turned. His gaze locked on hers, and widened in shock.

Molly thought she had some idea just how he felt.

“Eric—” Scott turned to his friend “—you haven’t met Molly yet, have you?”

“No, we haven’t,” Molly answered before he could, rising to her feet and praying that her wobbly legs would support her.

“But I’ve certainly heard a lot about her,” Eric said, his eyes never leaving Molly’s face.

She definitely hadn’t remembered everything—like how one look could make her pulse race and her knees quiver, as her pulse was racing and her knees were quivering now.

“And here she is,” Scott said. And to Molly, “This is His Royal Highness, Prince Eric Santiago of Tesoro del Mar.”

“Should I curtsy?” she asked lightly.