Cara Colter - His Convenient Royal Bride

“In a sec,” Sophie called.

“I’m Ward,” the younger man, the one with the amazing presence, said easily.

The other said nothing.

“Lancaster,” Ward filled in for him, giving him a look that might have suggested he be friendlier.

“Lancaster, are you by chance a policeman?”

Both men’s eyebrows shot up.

Really, Maddie needed to step in, to stop this inquisition of customers, to take this opportunity to brief Sophie on professionalism, yes, even here in Mountain Bend. But if Sophie found out what Lancaster did, wouldn’t it follow that Ward might volunteer what he did, as well?

There was something about him that was so intriguing, some power and mystery in the way he carried and conducted himself, that he had made Maddie aware there was a whole world out there that did not involve baking scones, fretting about bills, or watching helplessly as your world fell apart and your hometown declined around you.

Ridiculous to feel as if hope shimmered in the air around a complete stranger.

Because wasn’t hope, after all, the most dangerous thing of all?

That, Maddie told herself, was the only thing she needed to know about the man who had entered the little main street coffee shop.

Not that he was a reprieve from a life that had gone heavy with worries.

No, that he was the exact opposite. That all her worries would intensify if she followed this lilting melody humming to life in the base of her being—the one that coincided with his appearance—to where it wanted to go.

She touched the gold chain on her neck. It was a pendant made with a gold nugget that her father had found a long time ago and given to her mother. Touching the pendant usually had the effect of grounding her. Sometimes, Maddie even imagined her father’s voice when she touched it.

What would he say, right now, if he were here and saw her in such a ridiculous state over a man she had only just laid eyes on, to whom she had not even spoken a single word?

Something, she was sure, practical and homespun. Whoa, girl, go easy.

But she did not hear her father’s voice, not even in her imagination. Instead, the pendant seemed to glow warm under her fingertips.

“LANCASTER DOES HAVE a military background, to be sure. What would you recommend from the menu?” It was Ward who spoke, his tone easy, but for the first time it seemed he would like to close the conversation with the young waitress

“Does Scotland have an army?” Sophie asked, nonplussed. “I wouldn’t have thought—”

“Sophie, would you please give those gentlemen their menus, and then I need to talk to you for a minute?”

Ward turned and smiled at her and his smile was charismatic and sympathetic, as if he entirely got that training young employees was a little like trying to train an overly enthusiastic puppy.

Sophie surrendered the menus in slow motion. “What brings you to Mountain Bend?”

“We’ve come from a few days’ holiday in California,” Ward answered. “We’re finishing up our stay in America with the Ritz concert.”

The Ritz were a world-renowned band. Kettle’s nephew, Sophie’s cousin, was the drummer. It had been Kettle’s idea for the band to officially open the summer season with a huge outdoor concert tomorrow night.

The hope was, once they had sampled the pristine charms of Mountain Bend, the throngs of people who had purchased tickets for the concert would return. Plan vacations here. Buy some of the empty miner’s houses for summer cottages. Spend money on coffee and groceries and gas. Save the town.

It was a long shot, at best, but Maddie baked a back supply of scones, and printed off dozens of business cards, just in case.

“Well, the locals know the best sights,” Sophie declared. “I’d be happy to show you around.”

“Sophie!”

“After work,” Sophie amended reluctantly.

Lancaster handed her his menu and folded his massive arms over his chest. “I’ll have the Bend-in-the-Road.”

“I think you’d prefer the Mountain Man,” Sophie said sweetly.

“Could I see you for a moment?” Maddie called sternly and urgently.

Sophie ignored her. “Or maybe a few scones? That would make you feel right at home, wouldn’t it?”

“If I wanted to feel at home,” Lancaster said coolly, “I would have stayed there. And it’s pronounced scone, as in gone, not scone, as in cone.”

“I love a man who knows his scones,” Sophie said, not insulted.

“I want the Bend-in-the-Road. I’m pretty sure I cannot get an edible scone in Mountain Bend, Oregon.”

Maddie was pretty sure he was given a little nudge under the table with the other’s foot.

“They happen to be the most delicious scones in the world,” Sophie said loyally. “Maddie could have had a shop in New York someday, but—”

This was going seriously off the rails!

“Sophie!” Maddie called again, before it developed into an argument or a tell-all about Maddie’s broken dreams and bad boyfriend.

Still, she could not help but be annoyed. You couldn’t get a good scone in Mountain Bend? That was a challenge if she had ever heard one!

Sophie gave her a disgruntled look, and the customers a reluctant one. “Sorry,” she said. “Duty calls.”

But then, before duty asked too much of Sophie, she leaned both elbows on the table, put her chin on her hands and blinked at Lancaster.

“So, do you ever wear a kilt?” she purred.

The big man looked stunned. After an initial moment of shocked silence, Ward threw back his head and laughed. If he’d been gorgeous before, it was now evident that had just been the warm-up. His laughter was pure, exquisitely masculine, entirely sexy.

Danger , Maddie reminded herself firmly.

Before Lancaster could answer, Sophie giggled, straightened up from the table and headed over to Maddie.

“What do you think?” she asked in a happy undertone. “Match, game and set to me?”

What she thought was that she envied Sophie’s relative innocence. The younger woman thought you could play at this game with no one getting hurt. Both those men had a masculine potency about them that spoke of experience.

No doubt both of them had a string of broken hearts in their pasts. She didn’t care if the assessment was completely unfair. It was better safe than sorry, and Sophie was a naive small-town girl.

Just as she herself had been when she met Derek. Maddie felt, again, protective of the younger woman.

“This is not how you interact with customers,” she said, firmly. “You do not flirt with them. These shenanigans will end now.”

“Shenanigans?” Sophie asked.

“A kilt?” Maddie demanded in an undertone.

“Don’t say you don’t want to know the answer,” Sophie said, grinning impishly, unintimidated by the neighbor she had known her whole life.

Maddie made to deny it. Her mouth opened. But her gaze, of its own accord, slid back to Ward. His strong, tanned legs were tucked under the table. A kilt? Good grief! She could feel herself beginning to blush!

Sophie laughed knowingly.

“Look,” Maddie said, pulling herself together, “you’re being way too inquisitive. They’re customers. They’re here for breakfast, not to exchange life stories. And they’re not Americans. They won’t appreciate your friendliness.”

Sophie pursed her lips together, miffed at the reprimand, as Maddie had known she would be.

“Or apparently your scones,” she said, pronouncing it as gone rather than cone as Maddie always had. Then she flounced through the swinging doors into the kitchen and gave Kettle the order.

“We ain’t open yet.” This declaration was followed by a string of cusswords used creatively and representing a long military history. “I don’t make exceptions. And that includes the apron. And tie your hair back. We have standards.” He put enough curse words between have and standards to impress a sailor.