Joan Pickart - Man...Mercenary...Monarch

“Well, there’s worse places to be than on the Colton ranch.” Betty paused and shook her head. “I still find it hard to believe that our John might actually be Prince James Wyndham of Wynborough.

“When the Coltons adopted him as a baby, there wasn’t a clue about his identity. He was just left on the doorstep of The Sunshine Home for Children. John is in for a mighty big shock when he does come home.”

“I should have asked you this before, Betty, but how do you think John will feel about this news?”

“No telling,” Betty said, shutting off the water in the sink. “John is impossible to predict. He’s a Colton, but he never has thought and acted like one.”

“Well, he really isn’t a Colton. He’s a Wyndham.”

“As far as his parents and his brother, Mitch, are concerned, he’s a Colton,” Betty said decisively. “They love him as their own. That will never change, no matter what new fancy name and title John has. A prince. Good gracious, wonders never cease.”

“A prince who was kidnapped as an infant and believed to be dead all these years,” Laura said. “And I’m the one who has been assigned the nifty task of explaining his true identity to him. I hope he doesn’t get into a kill-the-messenger mode.”

“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?

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