Michelle Celmer - Virgin Princess, Tycoon’s Temptation / The Secret Child & The Cowboy CEO - Virgin Princess, Tycoon’s Temptation

“Please don’t insult my intelligence.”

He relented and answered, “The owner of the ranch caught me in the hay barn with his youngest daughter.”

“How young?”

“Seventeen.”

Garrett was about to say that a twenty-eight-year-old man had no business chasing a girl more than ten years his junior, but that was almost exactly the age difference between himself and Louisa. But that was different. Louisa was an adult—even if her family didn’t treat her like one. Not to mention that Garrett intended to marry her, while he was quite sure his brother was only using the young girl in question.

“Don’t give me that look of disapproval,” Ian countered. “It wasn’t my fault. She seduced me.”

Of course. Nothing was ever his fault. Someone else was always to blame for his irresponsibility. “Did you ever consider telling her no?”

“If you’d seen her, you wouldn’t have told her no, either.”

Unlike his brother, Garrett wasn’t a slave to his hormones. He had principles. He didn’t take advantage of women. Not sexually, anyway. Besides, he wasn’t taking advantage of Louisa. If she married him, she would never be denied a thing she desired. With the exception of a few children, that is.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked Ian.

“Like I said, I have something fantastic in the works. A sure thing. I just need a bit of capital to get it off the ground.”

He didn’t say it, but Garrett knew exactly what he was thinking and saved him the trouble of having to ask. “Don’t look at me. I’ve thrown away enough money on your so-called sure things.”

Ian shrugged. “Your loss.”

Garrett doubted that.

Ian finished his dinner, stopping just shy of licking the dish clean. “Delicious. Best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

“I assume you need a place to stay.”

He leaned back against the countertop and folded his arms over his chest. “There’s a very comfortable bench in the park I could sleep on.”

“You’re welcome to use the spare bedroom. For one night,” he stressed. “And I expect everything to be as you found it when you go.”

“I’ll even make the bed.”

“Well then, I’m off to bed,” Garrett said.

“Already? I thought we might catch up for a while.”

“I have an early breakfast meeting.”

Ian looked appalled. “You’re working on a Saturday?”

“Sometimes I work Sundays, as well.” A concept Ian, who worked as little as possible, would never grasp. “Help yourself to whatever you find in the icebox, and I have satellite television if you want to watch it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” Ian parroted as Garrett walked from the room. He felt uncomfortable leaving his brother to his own devices, but short of staying awake all night, he didn’t have much choice.

Consequently, Garrett didn’t see Ian in the morning. When he rolled out of bed at 6:00 a.m., Ian had already left. With half the contents of the liquor cabinet and Garrett’s car.

The e-mail showed up in Louisa’s personal in-box late Saturday afternoon. At first when she saw the blank subject line she assumed it was junk mail, then she noticed the return address—G.B. Man—and her heart nearly stopped.

That couldn’t be a coincidence. It had to be him.

Not now, she thought to herself. Not when things were going so well. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the worst, and reluctantly double clicked to open it. The body of the e-mail read simply, Did you miss me, Princess?

No gruesome nursery rhymes or threats of violence this time, still a cold chill slithered up her spine. This was going to put everyone into a panic and security back on high alert. Which meant her chances of leaving the castle and going on a normal date with Garrett were slim to none. Why did the Gingerbread Man have to choose now to start harassing them again?

She leaned over for the phone to ring security, when she noticed the time stamp on the e-mail and realized it had actually been sent yesterday morning. Louisa didn’t check her in-box daily, but her brothers did. If they had gotten one, too, wouldn’t she have heard about it by now?

Was it possible that the Gingerbread Man had sent a message to her alone? And if so, was it a coincidence that it started at the same time she began seeing Garrett? Was he trying to complicate things?

She sat back in her chair, wondering what she should do. The e-mail hadn’t been threatening at all. Just a reminder that he was still there, which they all had assumed anyway. If he had planned to actually harm a member of the family, wouldn’t he have done it by now?

If she accidentally forgot to mention this to security, what difference would it really make?

She sat there with her finger hovering over the delete button, weighing her options. If it turned out her brothers and sister had gotten an e-mail, too, she could just tell them that she must have erased hers accidentally, assuming it was junk mail. She hated to lie, but this was her future on the line. Her relationship with Garrett might be destiny, but even destiny had its limits. Would Garrett want to court a woman who wasn’t even allowed to leave the house, and by dating her very possibly make himself a target?

It would be best, for now, if no one else knew about this.

Before she could change her mind, she stabbed the delete key, promising herself that if he contacted her again, threatening or not, she would let the family know. Until then, it would be her secret.

It was after noon when Garrett’s meeting finally ended. He was in the company limo on his way to the club to play squash with Wes, when he received a call from the police informing him that his car had been in an accident. Apparently, in his haste to flee Garrett’s town house, Ian had run off the road and into a tree.

“He was pretty banged up,” the officer told him. “But he was conscious and alert when they put him in the ambulance.”

Despite everything, Garrett was relieved Ian wasn’t hurt too badly. If he’d died, Garrett would have been the one to break the news to his family. Since it was Garrett’s car Ian had been driving, they would likely pin the blame on him. Not that he cared what they thought of him any longer. It was just a hassle he didn’t need.

“Did he say how it happened?” Garrett asked.

“He claims he swerved to avoid hitting an animal in the road, a dog, and lost control.”

Ian had always had a soft spot for animals. Dogs especially, so it was a plausible excuse.

Garrett dreaded the next question he had to ask. “Was alcohol involved?”

“We assumed so at first. There were a dozen or so broken bottles of liquor in the car. Expensive stuff, too.”

Tell me about it, Garrett wanted to say.

“He denied being intoxicated, but we won’t know for certain until we get the results of the blood test. He must have been going quite fast though. I’m sorry to say that the car is totaled.”

It wouldn’t be the first car Ian had demolished with his careless driving. Or the last. Besides, Garrett had never expected to get it back. He didn’t have the heart to report it as stolen and Ian would have eventually sold it. At least now Garrett would get the insurance money, and Ian would have to face what he’d done while the wounds were still fresh.

He thanked the officer for the information and instructed his driver to take him to the hospital instead, then rang Wes to cancel. With any luck, this fiasco wouldn’t find its way into the papers, or, if it did, he hoped no names were released. With the royal family keeping a close eye on him, the last thing he needed was a scandal. Not that he should be held accountable for his brother’s actions, but in his experience royals had a … unique way of looking at things.