A Royal Mess and Her Knight To Remember (3 page)

“I'm sorry, you're going to have to meet up with it at your final destination.”

“You're kidding.”

The woman didn't crack a smile, not even a sympathetic one.

“You're not kidding.”

“Ma'am, kidding isn't in my job description.”

Natalia shook her head. “This isn't happening.”

“If you'd like, you can check the bus schedule.
The shuttle to take you to the depot is outside the terminal.”

“Bus?”

“Bus.”

Bus.

 

W
HICH WAS WHERE
Natalia found herself forty-five minutes later. Sitting on a bench outside waiting for the shuttle bus in the soggy, muggy, disgusting heat, with clouds surging overhead, waiting.

For her bus.

There was no lunch service on a bus, she was fairly certain. She removed her leather jacket, setting it on her carry-on at her feet. No pretty but huffy flight attendants. No bags of peanuts.

But there was, she'd been told, a “pot.”

Goodie.

At any rate, it was the lack of food that got to her now.

Given how out of shape she was, she could probably stand to skip a meal or two. Since there was no one around—apparently everyone else had been smart enough to stay inside the airport and wait for a flight—she looked down at herself. Definitely, being on the plump side of average, she could stand to go without lunch.

But being on the plump side of average gave her good breasts, she reminded herself.

Not that breasts mattered when she was as chaperoned as she had been all her life.

You're not chaperoned now.

At that thought, a good amount of her tension faded away. She even smiled to herself. She was alone, just as she always had wanted to be. And come hell or high water, she was going to make her family proud.

She was well aware of how wonderful her life was. But there was more to life than mugging for the press and charity parties.

And with all her heart, she wanted to experience some of it.

Hard to do with two sisters, bodyguards, an ex-nanny, an entire country and a protective father hovering over her night and day. But it was past time for her solo flight. An adventure. Okay, so the wedding of one of her mother's oldest friend's daughter in Taos, New Mexico, wasn't exactly an adventure, but it would be a start, even though her older sister would also be attending. But as Andrea—being the oldest—had been asked to be in the wedding and would therefore be quite swamped with wedding stuff, Natalia had demurely suggested she meet her there.

Demurely, ha! She'd leaped at the chance.

Her father had agreed, reluctantly.
Be careful
he'd told her a million times.
Call often.

Natalia had promised, in good humor because it would be worth the entire trip to see her older, tomboy sister in a dress. Just thinking about it now had her letting out a quick, sharp grin that she knew would make Annie pounce on her.

Thunder hit, and Natalia jumped, suddenly wishing Annie was here for a good diversion. Or even Lili—the baby of the family at twenty-three. But Lili was coming straight from another obligation, and was to meet them in Taos.

A breath later came a flash of lightning. Not good. She grabbed her phone, clutched it to her chest and stared up at the sky. It wouldn't hurt to call home. Just to assure everyone that she was fine, of course, because they worried about her.

Another crack of thunder and lightning, and she dialed, hoping she wouldn't be electrocuted before she heard a familiar voice.

A strict female voice answered. “Tell me everything, Natalia.”

Not her father, but Amelia, and nearly as good as her father, even if the woman had the strangest and most disconcerting ability to read her mind. “What if there's nothing to tell?” Natalia asked, keeping a wary eye on the sky.

“Natalia, sweetness, you always have something to tell. Now spill it. You're okay, of course. I'd know if you weren't.”

Yes, she would. Amelia had that inexplicable way about her when it came to the princesses. When they'd been young, Natalia and her sisters had been convinced Amelia was a fairy godmother. Complete with fairy dust.

Sometimes Natalia was still convinced. Mostly, she had accepted and was just grateful. “I'm okay,” she agreed, looking around at the flattest landscape she'd ever seen. And in case Amelia had grandiose ideas of sending escorts, Natalia hurriedly added, “More than okay.” Another clap of thunder shook the ground beneath her feet. “P-p-perfect, in fact.”

“Hmm.” There was a long pregnant pause, in which, clearly, Amelia expected Natalia to spill her guts.

Tempting, but she managed to keep her mouth shut—barely.

“We're here if you need us, Natalia.”

“You mean if I've screwed up.”

“‘Screw up' is not a very princesslike term.” Amelia's voice was diplomatic, and contained the hint of an indulgent smile. “But if you need anything, anything at all, I'm just a phone call away.”

Natalia knew that. Probably she wouldn't even
have to make that call, Amelia would just know. What a comfort that was. Her throat tightened just thinking about how much she was cared for. She cared for them in return, and making them proud was her biggest goal here. She could do this, she could do anything. After all, she was a princess. And maybe, just maybe, she would have a little adventure while she was at it.

“Natalia? This week you wanted all alone, it's a long time for someone like you. There's no shame in that.”

“You mean someone inexperienced in the real world.”

“If you need anything…” Amelia repeated calmly, refusing to be baited.

“I won't. You understand this, Amelia, don't you?” Natalia needed to hear her say it. More than she'd known.

“Yes, sweetness,” Amelia said, her voice softer now. “I understand. This is a way to prove yourself. You'll do great. Just keep your head.”

“I can do that. See you soon.”

“See you soon, lovely.”

Natalia hugged the phone close to her heart, as if she could retain the warmth and love. And she could, if she closed her eyes and concentrated—

“Do you have the time?”

Natalia nearly leaped out of her skin at the voice. It was a young man, in his early twenties, looking like he'd skipped far more than just lunch. His face was gaunt, his head and hair—if he had any—were completely covered in a knit beanie despite the humidity. And his eyes…sparkled with malice.

Uh-oh. Her heart started a rapid tattoo. Why hadn't she told Amelia where she was?

Because she could handle this, that's why. And besides, as irrational as it sounded, Amelia probably already knew.

Much calmer than she felt, she said, “The time? Why, yes, I do…”
Please, go away.
She twisted her wrist to check. “It's just after three—
Hey!
”

He snagged the carry-on, the jacket over it and the purse she still had on her shoulder.

And tugged.

“Oh, no you don't. Those are—” She stopped shouting at him to get a better grip on her purse.
“Mine.”

“Let go!” he growled, playing tug-of-war with her.

But her fear turned to temper. Clearly, he had no idea who he was messing with and how much she'd already faced in one day. It gave her an unbelievable strength. “I'm not letting go, you…you
miscreant!
”

“Hey, I'm robbing you here.”

“No you're not!”

He looked so utterly surprised, she nearly laughed. And held on like a pit bull.

“You're supposed to freak out,” he grated. “Cry. Scream. Not fight back! Jeez, haven't you ever taken a self-defense class? They don't advise you to fight back!”

“I'm not going to freak out, I'm going to fight, and then I'm going to turn you in! Now
you
let go!”

For what seemed like forever, they grappled with her bags, until, with a loud screech, Natalia lost the game and her grip. Freed, she promptly toppled backward over the bench, ass over kettle, landing incongruously in the dirt.

Meanwhile, her thief, who took the time to stop and grin triumphantly in her face, took off with her beloved carry-on, her purse and her bus ticket.

And her pride.

B
Y THE TIME
Natalia—sputtering in a very unprincesslike manner—scrambled to her feet and jerked down her skirt, the young man was but a blur on the horizon. All she could do was watch in disbelief as he ran away, her bag banging against his thighs as it had banged against hers all day long.

She hoped it left one hell of a bruise.

“Idiot!” she yelled. “Moron!
Jerk!
” Sagging back to the bench, she wondered who she was calling names, the thief or herself.

A drop fell from the sky, hitting her on the nose. The storm that the airline had been threatening her with all day had finally arrived.

Another drop. Then another. The sky lit with a long jagged flash of lightning.

And Natalia stood there, stunned stupid by the events of the day. She was out in what felt like the middle of nowhere, with no identification, no money and even worse, no makeup, not even a brush. She
should call on the credit cards, but then again, at this moment, even that seemed like too much effort.

Rain fell. Leather wet was a whole new, uncomfortable experience. Lightning flashed again, punctuating the disaster her life had become.

Perfect. Now she was going to get struck by a bolt and get amnesia. That would top things off nicely.

You'll do great. Just keep your head.

At Amelia's words, spoken in her wonderful British accent, Natalia whipped around, but of course, Amelia wasn't standing there.

It was just that her voice had sounded so…real.

But Natalia was alone, utterly alone. It must be the self-pity, she decided, causing her to hear things. Because surely, not even Amelia could be that…magical.

She should just call home with the cell phone still in her pocket. But that put a sour taste in her mouth because darn it, she wanted to do this.

Her hair was beginning to unspike, and her clothes were plastered to her like a second skin. She had no idea what should come next. Maybe a hero on a white steed. Wouldn't that be handy.

A rumble sounded. Not a white steed, but a truck, rumbled up the street. It nearly passed her, until, with a quick brake, it came to an abrupt halt right in front of her.

Her heart leaped into her throat, but she reminded herself she had nothing left for someone to steal.

Except
herself,
came the dismal, unhelpful thought. Fear bloomed again, and she might have started running regardless of her combat boots, until the window rolled down and a man leaned across the seat. Beneath his hat, piercing green eyes landed right on her.

Her Clint Eastwood look-alike from the plane.

“Problem?” he asked in that slow, Southern drawl that somehow sent a warm shiver down her spine, when just a moment ago she'd been chilled from her fight with her thief.

“Problem?” she repeated as casually as she could, cocking a hip and trying to look like the badass princess she was known to be. “What makes you think I have a problem?”

“Because you're standing out here in a downpour looking like a drowned rat.”

A drowned rat!
“The bus hasn't come yet.” But even if it did, her ticket was sitting all nice and cozy in her purse. The purse that was right this second gracing the neck of a thief. But she couldn't tell this man that, not when her pride was sticking like crow in her throat.

He put his truck in Park and rested a forearm on his steering wheel. “So what's a princess doing riding a bus?”

With her self-esteem at her feet, there was no way she could tell him.

“Ah, hell,” she thought she heard him mutter. And then he'd turned off his truck and got out in the rain, moving with the easy grace of a man who wasn't in a hurry to be anywhere other than where he happened to be.

Standing in front of her, he seemed bigger than he'd been on the airplane, bigger than life. He was over six feet, all broad shoulders, hard muscle and about zero body fat. Certainly bigger than any man she was used to standing so close to her, so she took a little step back. But she left her chin thrust high into the air, because she'd choke on all that pride before admitting defeat to anyone.

“Here.” He shrugged out of his jacket to set it on her shoulders. She didn't know if his caring enough to want her warm helped or made it worse. “So what happened to your stuff?” he asked.

“It was just stolen. And before that, my second flight was canceled. Having a hell of a day here.”

He had a way of looking at people, of tilting his head back and gazing at her with deep green eyes that made her stomach flutter. “Are you hurt?”

I'm fine,
she almost said. But she wasn't. There was a strange, slow, unfurling in the pit of her belly, and it didn't come from the horrid day or the rain or the
theft. Or even from the way her makeup was starting to run down her face.

It came from his hands on her shoulders. From his easy grace and confidence.

“Princess?”

She gazed up at the man towering over her, at his unfathomable gaze and the lock of brown hair falling over his forehead. It was streaked with light gold from what she imagined were long days in the sun. On his horse. Being a cowboy. The unfurling in her belly ignited. “Do you really believe I'm a princess?” she whispered.

He frowned, then bent down a little to look into her eyes. “Maybe you hit your head? Is that it?”

He thought she was crazy. And she was.

Because he was a stranger, a one-hundred-percent-male stranger who made her want to drool, made her want to stand straighter with her breasts thrust out and check her makeup all at the same time. She felt as if she'd known him all her life even as she wanted to know him even better.

How stupid is that, Amelia?

 

T
IM SCOOPED
the woman's tangled, soggy hair back from her forehead, frowning as he looked her creamy skin over for a bump. Somehow the black smudged
eyeliner beneath her eyes made them look ever bigger. More vulnerable.

“I didn't hit my head,” she said quite clearly, stepping back from his touch. “And I really am a princess. Your Serene Highness Natalia Faye Wolfe Brunner of Grunberg, to be exact.”

Stepping back, he scratched his jaw and studied her, but she didn't crack a smile. “That's a mouthful,” he said.

“Which is why I go by just Your Serene Highness Natalia Faye.”

“Still a mouthful.”

“My things have been stolen, or I'd show you identification.”

“Want to go to the police and make a report?”

She frowned. “No. The thief is long gone, and my family would just insist I come home. All I need is a ride to Taos, New Mexico. I'm going to a wedding.”

This was said in a hoity-toity voice, her chin thrust high in the sky and eyes flashing, as if he were her servant. So he stared at her for one more beat, then tossed his head back and laughed.

“I'm not finding the humor in this situation,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Oh, boy. Nutcase alert. Despite her superior airs, he could tell she was cold, all covered in goose bumps. Suddenly she looked twelve to him again. Or
she would if she didn't have the most mouthwatering, curvy body he'd ever seen. Damn it, she was the prettiest nutcase he'd ever seen, and any bastard could come along and take advantage of her. Tim wasn't into pretty nutcases himself, but he couldn't just leave her here.

He wished he could. He had enough to deal with, but he knew this woman and her expressive eyes would haunt him tonight if he didn't try to do something for her. “Look, you're obviously a little down on your luck.”

“A little today, yeah.”

It made his gut clench. “So let me call someone for you—”

“No!”

“But—”

“No,”
she said so firmly, he almost believed she could really be royalty. She ran a hand down her wet, clingy leather and thrust her shoulders back. “As I've said, I'm fine.”

Terrific. She was fine and he was…delayed. And yet he couldn't just drive away. Maybe it was his save-the-wounded-bird heart. Hell, it was
definitely
his save-the-wounded-bird heart. “Where are you off to, then?”

“Nowhere at the moment.”

“I could take you with me to my ranch.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Why? Because he was an idiot. Because clearly he didn't have enough to worry about with his grandmother refusing his help and his sister sleeping with his new ranch hand. “You'd…be safe there.”

“At your ranch.”

“Yes.” Where he already had a corral full of rescued animals he couldn't bring himself to get rid of. Not that he'd put this woman in the corral, but the rescue efforts weren't much different.

Which was exactly what his grandma had told him when he'd tried to convince her to come back with him this weekend.

You're just trying to save me from old age, Timothy. But I like old age. And I like it here. Now I love you, but go home and save a cow or something.

He sighed. Instead of a cow, he supposed he'd rescue this drowned-looking woman. “So…is it a go?” He shielded his eyes from the now even heavier rain soaking them. “Are you coming with me?”

A gold eyebrow vanished into her hair as she regarded him with mistrust.

“Not for whatever you're thinking,” he added quickly.

Another sharp jag of lightning lit the sky, with thunder too quick on its heel for comfort. “You can clean yourself up,” he said, wanting out of the damn
rain. “Get some food and sleep. Then maybe…I don't know…look for work.”

“Work,” she repeated, as if the idea had never occurred to her. “Hmm. Interesting. Do you have a job opening?”

“I'm hiring right now for a cook and a ranch hand.” To replace the ranch hand he planned on firing if he—Josh—was still boinking his baby sister.

Which reminded him to wonder if Sally was still mad at him. Actually, that particular worry was just a waste of time.

Knowing Sally, she was still mad.

Too bad. His parents had wanted him to take care of her, and loyally bound, he would, even if she'd be twenty this year. He would take care of her, or die trying.

Which was a far more likely result of his efforts.

Impatient to be home, he looked the woman over. She appeared to be in good health, other than her general inability to face reality. Her gold hair now clung to her face. Her leather had shrink-wrapped itself to her very curvy body. Not that he was noticing.

Much.

“A job,” she repeated, tapping her lower lip. “You know, that might work just fine.”

He tried to picture her in denim. “Ever been on a ranch?”

“Oh, of course.”

Of course.

“Once on holiday we stopped at a petting farm.”

He blinked, then shook his head. “How about cooking? Can you cook?”

She swiped at the water running into her face. “You mean, for other people?”

“No, for the queen of England.”

Her mouth tightened. “Now you're making fun again. Why does everyone use poor Elizabeth as a joke?”

“Can you?”

“Cook? Of course.”

There was that “of course” again. Ah hell, she probably couldn't cook. He tipped up his hat. “It's raining pretty hard,” he said, hoping to rush things along a bit.

“I don't have a change of clothing,” she said, brow furrowed. “I like to have lots of things with me.”

He pulled his wet shirt away from his body with a suction noise and winced as it slapped back against his skin. “I'm going to get back into my truck, princess. Down the road is a store. If you'd like, you can borrow some cash and make some purchases. But I doubt they have black leather.”

“I can try something new. I like new.”

“Yeah? Well, you
might
have a choice between blue denim and dark blue denim.”

“I know how to wear jeans.”

“Then let's go.”

She cocked her head. “You
are
like the cowboys from the old West. Chivalrous. Kind.”

“No,” he said, backing up. “Anyone would do this.”

“You're wrong. I think you're special. Different.”

Different as insane. “Are you sure you're not hurt?”
Or on medication?
“Or that there's no one I can call for you?”

“Nope. I just wanted to do this one thing, travel by myself. It's a first and I've bungled it horribly.” She scooped back fistfuls of her hair and it stuck straight up again. “I'll earn my own money this time.”

She was going to come with him. He opened the passenger door, put his hand to the small of her back and touched bare skin. Not wanting to feel the odd shock of awareness, he gently nudged, not knowing whether he was unnerved or relieved that she climbed in.

“You're not an ax murderer, right?” she asked.

Unnerved, he decided. Definitely, he was unnerved. “No.”

“I've never hitchhiked before.” She looked around
inside his truck, probably searching for something obvious. Like body parts. “Contrary to what you must think of me, I don't take this lightly.”

“You're safe.”

“I bet that's what all the bad guys say.”

“But I'm like Clint Eastwood, remember?”

She actually laughed.
Laughed.
A sweet, bubble of a laugh, that in return made him grin like an idiot.

She carefully settled in as if she was indeed a little princess, and hooked up her seat belt, dripping water everywhere. “You wouldn't, by any chance, just take me to Taos?”

“Sorry, princess. Do you know how far away that is? I've got a ranch that needs my attention. I've been gone for a few days myself.” God only knew how his sister had fared in his absence.
Forget Sally.
How had everyone
else
fared? “But say the word, and I'll call someone for you. Anyone, anywhere.”