Lone Star Prince Read online

  “Level with me,” he said, point-blank, and her heart skipped several beats. “Tell me everything...everything so I can help get you out of this mess.”

  Everything. She turned her head away. He deserved to know everything. She couldn’t give him what he deserved. Not now. She enfolded William closer to her side. Maybe not ever. But he was right. If she was going to survive this, if she was to escape Ivan’s far-reaching power and undermine his plans, she had to tell him something. Enough, at least, to keep William safe and keep her from becoming Ivan’s wife and political pawn for the rest of her life.

  Aware suddenly that Gregory was speaking to her again, she turned to him, tried to clear her head.

  “Why don’t you rest, Anna.” He offered the suggestion with a gentleness that was almost her undoing, as if he sensed she simply couldn’t handle anymore tonight. “You’re exhausted. Try to get some sleep. We’ll sort this all out after we land and get the two of you settled.”

  She was too relieved with the reprieve to do anything but thank him again. And to ask the inevitable question.

  “Where are we going?”

  For the first time since he’d stolen her and William from their quarters in the west wing of Obersbourg Palace, he smiled. “Why, we’re going home, sugar.” A very slow, very deliberate western drawl had slipped into his voice like warm honey. “My home. West Texas.”

  Texas. Arid plains, wide open spaces. Cowboys. She remembered his words from that summer when he’d talked about his home with such pride. Miles and miles of nothing but sky. And oil wells. Lots of oil wells.

  It sounded like a good place to hide. It sounded like a good place to heal. Carefully, she offered her own smile. “I’ve always wanted to see a cowboy.”

  His eyes softened a fraction. “Well that works out just fine then, because I reckon there’re a few cowboys who will be pleased as punch to see you, too.”

  While his words were meant to lighten the mood and ease her tension, they had the opposite effect.

  “Don’t worry, Anna.”

  She met his eyes. Saw again that he had sensed her concern.

  “No one in town will know who you are, much less recognize you. We’ve seen to that.”

  He seemed both satisfied and sure—and, unaccountably, amused by a prospect he chose not to share with her.

  That was fair, she decided. She had her secret. She’d let him have his. For now it was enough to know she was free of Ivan. At least for the moment. And the moment was what she needed most.

  It wasn’t over. It might never be over. But she had breathing room now. And she had time. Time to regroup, to assess, to think of a way to save her country without sacrificing her son and herself in the process. Until she accomplished that, she had to believe in Gregory to keep her safe and bring her Sara’s babies.

  Exhausted, she finally let the fatigue overtake her. With William safe for the moment and snug by her side, she let her eyes drift close, let months of tension ease from her body and finally gave in to the haven of sleep.

  Greg sensed the moment the nervous energy that had fueled Anna hit empty. In the darkness he watched her drift into an embracing sleep. He still didn’t know what had prompted her to turn to him. Couldn’t entertain even a guess—or didn’t want to—because all the explanations started with that long ago summer and ended with the wanting to pick up where they’d left off. The one thing he was sure of in all of this mess was that he couldn’t let that happen. He was wiser now and he’d be damned if he’d let her break through his defenses again.

  Yet he couldn’t stop himself from taking stock of her classic beauty as she slept—the porcelain complexion, long blond hair, gently winged brows, wide-set eyes, regally sculpted cheekbones—and feel a hard knot of yearning tighten in his gut. He checked it as abruptly as it started. Obviously, she hadn’t lost sleep over their parting. The child at her side was the proof of that. More to the point, it drove home one indisputable fact: she hadn’t wasted any time moving from his bed to another.

  A part of him would like to hate her for that. He didn’t have it in him. Just like he didn’t have it in him to love her. Not again. Not even in the face of the danger she was in. Not even in the face of the temptation.

  He looked away. For the last time, there was no reason to go there. She was as out of bounds now as she’d been then. Only now, he was wise enough to know up front where the boundaries began. More importantly, he knew where they ended. And he no longer needed her to spell it out for him. She, after all, was a princess. And as she’d so convincingly implied four years ago, he was no prince.

  What he was, he acknowledged with a grim set to his mouth, was a sucker for a damsel in distress. What he would be, he assured himself as he looked away from the tumble of blond hair framing her face, was damn glad when this blew over and Her Royal Highness jetsetted out of his life again and got back to the one she’d been born and bred to live.

  One

  Four months later. The Royal Diner, Royal, Texas

  Gearing up for the breakfast rush, Anna snagged a juice glass on her way to the cooler, filled it and breezed on out toward booth number six. She reset the coffeemaker on her way by as a fleeting thought of her wild escape from Obersbourg four months ago ran through her mind. So much had happened—the risky rescue, the safety factor that was at best a fluid thing while Ivan continued a full-scale search for her, her fear for Sara’s babies until Gregory’s brother, Blake, had rescued them and brought them safely to Royal. Yet in spite of all that, a soft smile tilted her lips as she thought of something Gregory had said to her on that midnight flight. Something that had seemed ominous then, amusing now.

  “Don’t worry, Anna. No one in town will know who you are, much less recognize you. We’ve seen to that.”

  At the time, she hadn’t understood what he’d meant. Two days later he’d shown up at her door with a pink polyester uniform and instructed her to report for work as a waitress at the Royal Diner as part of her cover to keep her identity concealed. She’d understood perfectly then.

  As unthinkable as it had seemed at the time, his intent had been as clear as Waterford crystal: Anna von Oberland—whose royal blood lines could be traced back over seven centuries, who had been tutored by the most prestigious private instructors in Europe, then Swiss educated at the collegiate level, who owned advanced degrees m business and economics, who was successor to the throne of kings—was to be transformed from Her Most Serene Royal Highness, the Esteemed Princess of Obersbourg, to a waitress, in the form of down-home girl, Annie Grace.

  The unthinkable hadn’t ended there. Neither had the surprises. In the past months since she’d been hiding out in Royal as Annie Grace, she’d not only played the part of Annie Grace, she’d been having the time of her life.

  One of the reasons for all that fun grinned at her from behind the grill as she elbowed up to the cook’s counter to place an order.

  A pair of coal-black eyes met hers, sparkling flirtatiously. “You have a need, Annie-mine?”

  “I have a need for a short stack, two eggs over easy, a side of bacon, wheat-no-butter, please, Manny.”

  “Sure thing, Annie sweetheart, darlin’ dear. Anything else I can do for you while my fire’s hot?”

  Anna tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. Even if she hadn’t caught the meaningful waggle of Manny Reno’s dark brows, she’d have known he wasn’t referring to the fire under his grill. Manny, a beautiful Chicano bodybuilder and part-time cook, was an incorrigible and accomplished flirt. And like most of the hardy Texans she’d met since Gregory had eased her quietly into Royal four months ago, he was also about as dangerous as a slice of his coconut cream pie.

  Grinning, she clipped the order to the revolving wheel above the counter and reached for the coffeepot. “Give me a break, Manny. It’s 6:00 a.m. It’s Monday. I haven’t built up the strength yet to spar with you.”

  “Well, you see now, beautiful girl...” Manny’s black eyes danced from the rich caramel backd
rop of his face. “...that’s all part of my strategy. Get’cha while you’re not awake enough to fight this intense attraction you feel for me.”

  “Well...there is that.” She shot him a coy smile then sobered abruptly. “Oh, wait.” Bracing a hand to her forehead, she closed her eyes. “I feel something—yes. Here it is now. My better judgment just arrived to save the day. Whew. That was close. For a minute there, I almost lost my head. Sorry, Manny—and we were going to have such a good time, too.”

  “Oh, maaan.” Manny groaned, heavy on the theatrics, as he poured batter onto the griddle, then expertly flipped an omelette. “You are breaking my heart here.”

  Sheila Foster sidled up to the counter just then, hooked an order on the clip. She sliced Anna a quick, conspiratorial wink before firing her own shot at Manny. “You gotta have a heart to get one broken.”

  Sheila was currently single, twice divorced and fighting a size twelve for all she was worth. The fact that she had a hard and heavy case on Manny wasn’t lost on Anna. Neither was it lost on Manny, who, after almost two months of drooling over Sheila, hadn’t worked up the courage to do something about it.

  “Who’s callin’ the kettle black, little Sheba?” Manny accused with a grin so sweet Anna could almost taste the honey.

  “It’s Sheila, you big ape, and I’ve got a heart. I just don’t see any point wasting any extra beats over you.”

  “You know you’re nuts about me, my little chili pepper.”

  “The only one nuts around here is you. Now is my number five up yet or did you have to run down a chicken and squeeze the eggs out of her?”

  Laughing at their good-natured sniping, Anna headed for the booth where Homer Gaffney sat. Homer smiled when she approached, causing deep creases to dig even deeper grooves into the wizened old face that looked up at her from beneath the dusty brim of a stained and dented straw cowboy hat.

  “Here’s your juice, Homer. And you’re drinking regular, not decaf this morning, right?”

  “Gotta have the high octane this mornin’, Annie. Full day ahead a’ me. Movin’ the herd. From the sound of things we’ll be bucking stout sou’west winds and a boatload of dust. I’m gonna need all the caffeine I can get.”

  As she filled Homer’s cup, she felt that little prickle of unease that sometimes crept up on her when someone looked at her in that I’ve-seen-you-before-kind-of-way. The way Homer was looking at her now.

  “I just can’t get over how much you look like that fancy princess woman. Oh, what is her name, anyway?”

  “Fergie?” she suggested and worked hard at manufacturing a teasing smile.

  “Naw. That other one—the one from some foreign sounding place. You sure you ain’t some long lost twin got switched at birth?”

  “Homer, Homer.” She forced a playful, chiding tone. “Last week you said you thought I looked like a movie star. I’ll tell you what, though—if you can figure out some way to make me into a princess, I’ll figure out a way to make you my prince.”

  Homer laughed, blushed and tugged on his hat brim. “I’d be more frog than prince—and I don’t allow my Martha would much go for me running off with you. It’s a nice thought, though, huh?”

  “You bet, Homer.” She laid a hand on his shoulder then walked away. “It’s a very nice thought.”

  It was also a thought that, thankfully, didn’t occur too often. When it did, she generally handled it the same way as she had with Homer just now. She’d laugh, joke and walk away. So far it had worked. Yet the possibility always loomed that the day might come when her luck on that count would run out and someone would recognize her.

  Refusing to think about that now, she answered Manny’s ding—he signaled with a little silver bell when an order was up—and delivered an omelette and a sweet roll. Then she quickly bussed two tables and raked in two dollars and some odd change in tips. As she headed back for Homer’s short stack and eggs, she was completely oblivious of the diner’s shortcomings when compared to the grandeur that had once been her life at Obersbourg Palace.

  The Royal Diner was your basic greasy spoon café, nonalcoholic watering hole, town meeting place and coffee klatch all wrapped up in one. Just as unlikely as Anna becoming adept as a waitress was the fact that the diner had also become her refuge. She loved every inch of the place—from the worn and cracked dull-gray linoleum floor tiles to the faded red plastic on the booth seats to the scratched chrome strips edging the tabletops and the counter with its dozen stools.

  She loved the steamy warmth of it. The smell of it. The sinfully juicy hamburgers that Manny cooked on his grill, the decadently thick chocolate malts that she had learned to make on the ancient malt machine. She even loved the thin film of smoke and grease coating the plate glass windows that Hazel, the owner, had tried to pretty up with muslin curtains.

  She knew it wasn’t supposed to work like this. She knew that Gregory had set her up with this waitress ruse because he thought she would consider it menial and beneath her. A princess wasn’t supposed to mingle with, let alone wait on, the common folk. It was his subtle way, she supposed, of paying her back for what she’d done to him years ago.

  She understood his motives. She even forgave him. Just like she forgave him for making himself as scarce as a snowstorm in West Texas. Even though his deliberate absence hurt, she figured he was entitled. He’d known she would be forced to take the waitress job—as he’d put it, hiding in plain sight—rather than risk having undue attention focused on the reclusive young woman and child in The Royal Court Complex, apartment 3B.

  What Gregory hadn’t understood was that while she had been apprehensive at first, it was because she had been afraid she couldn’t do the work, not because she didn’t want to do it. Another thing Gregory hadn’t understood was that while normal little girls dreamed of castles, servants and knights in shining armor, Anna had dreamed of walking barefoot in the grass, of playing hide-and-seek after dark with the village children, of a best friend to share secrets with.

  What she had always wanted was to be a part of something as an equal, not set apart as elite. As Princess Anna von Oberland, she’d done elite. She’d lived elite. Elite was lonely and isolating. She’d lived lavishly, surrounded by rare artwork, gilded mirrors and armies of servants. She’d slept in platform beds beneath satin sheets. And yet everything she’d ever wanted had been out of her reach: the ultimate excitement of the absolutely mundane.

  As Annie Grace, the waitress, she’d found that—in an austere two-bedroom apartment and, of all things, an alarm clock. She loved her alarm clock. Like William, it gave her purpose. It gave her a reason to get up and be useful on the most basic level.

  Here, in Royal, she was a small part of a whole, and despite everything that had happened, it felt wonderful. She was a single mom, working for a living. And she felt, for the first time in her life, as if she belonged. It was another of life’s strange ironies that as she played the role of a waitress, she felt more real than at any other time in her life.

  Even better, since arriving in Royal, she was seeing things in William that she had always yearned to see. While he was still reserved and slow to trust, he smiled more. He even laughed sometimes without fear of reprisal. Harriet Sherman, her next door neighbor and volunteer baby-sitter, had been responsible for much of that.

  Manny hit the bell again, snapping her head up. She hurried to pick up a morning special and remembered how difficult it had been to leave William in Harriet’s care that first morning. Even with Gregory’s assurances that Harriet was his employee and that he’d positioned her next door to Anna’s apartment for the sole purpose of looking after both her and William, it had been hard leaving him.

  Now it was hard to think of taking him away from here, away from Harriet and her loving arms and oatmeal raisin cookies. But she knew she must eventually return to Obersbourg and face her obligations.

  She squared her shoulders, drew a bracing breath. Ivan wouldn’t call off his dogs. He would not give up on trying t
o strong-arm her into marriage. And as much as it hurt to acknowledge it, her parents would continue to offer her up to Ivan as the prize to save Obersbourg’s sovereignty.

  Even accepting all this, she knew she must return. Obersbourg was her country. Her birthright. Her obligation. Hopefully, she would be stronger for her time here in Royal. Hopefully, she would come up with a solution to her country’s grave dilemma that didn’t require marriage to a man she had despised even before she’d begun to suspect he was involved in Sara’s death.

  For all of those reasons, the thought of leaving Royal haunted her. Soon, though, she would have one less reason to stay. As of Sunday, her final tie to her sister, Sara, would be severed. One more link with Ivan would be broken. And while Gregory would never be hers again to lose, one more reason for his protection would also be negated.

  Her sunny mood of moments ago was as lost as the sun that had disappeared beneath the dust inspired by a tenacious and sustained wind. Reality encroached severely on Annie Grace’s fantasy world. Like an unyielding and vengeful enemy, it deposited the weight of obligation and the cold hard facts of duty back into the hands of Anna von Oberland—all to the relentless tick of the clock as time slowly ran out on her.

  The King and Queen of Obersbourg’s entire existence exemplified saving face at all costs, celebrated the triumph of appearance over reality. So it was sadly ironic, Anna thought, that in her boldest act of defiance yet, she had resorted to practicing the ruling principle of her parents’ lives—a principle she abhorred.

  This Sunday, however, she played their game to the letter. She watched the happy celebration unfold before her in the grand salon of the Texas Cattleman’s Club with a plastic smile in place when the reality was that her heart was breaking. She murmured the appropriate words when her only triumph was in the knowledge that no one knew how much her actions had cost her.