Patricia Forsythe - The Runaway Princess

Jace asked softly.

“I’m thinking about the kind of man you are,” she replied.

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “What kind of man am I?”

“I…I think you’re hard. And honest.”

“I hope so. Anything else?”

She swallowed. “You like your life here and would never want to leave.”

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “That’s right. My life is here.”

She had no idea where these thoughts and questions were coming from, but she went on. “Did you like being alone all the time? Because I know what it’s like to live in a big place and to be lonely….”

“Do you, Alexis? I’m sorry.” He raised his hand to touch her cheek. He ran his finger along her velvety skin. “Being lonely is hell. Have you been lonely since you came to Sleepy River?”

She looked into his steady dark eyes. “Not recently…”

Dear Reader,

Although the anniversary is over, Silhouette Romance is still celebrating our coming of age—we’ll soon be twenty-one! Be sure to join us each and every month for six emotional stories about the romantic journey from first time to forever.

And this month we’ve got a special Valentine’s treat for you! Three stories deal with the special holiday for true lovers. Karen Rose Smith gives us a man who asks an old friend to Be My Bride? Teresa Southwick’s latest title, Secret Ingredient: Love, brings back the delightful Marchetti family. And Carla Cassidy’s Just One Kiss shows how a confirmed bachelor is brought to his knees by a special woman.

Amusing, emotional and oh-so-captivating Carolyn Zane is at it again! Her latest BRUBAKER BRIDES story, Tex’s Exasperating Heiress, features a determined groom, a captivating heiress and the pig that brought them together. And popular author Arlene James tells of The Mesmerizing Mr. Carlyle, part of our AN OLDER MAN thematic miniseries. Readers will love the overwhelming attraction between this couple! Finally, The Runaway Princess marks Patricia Forsythe’s debut in the Romance line. But Patricia is no stranger to love stories, having written many as Patricia Knoll!

Next month, look for appealing stories by Raye Morgan, Susan Meier, Valerie Parv and other exciting authors. And be sure to return in March for a new installment of the popular ROYALLY WED tales!

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

admits that she’s a lifelong daydreamer who has always enjoyed spinning stories in her head. She grew up in a copper mining town in Arizona, which was a true adventure because of the interesting characters who inhabited the place. During the years when she was going to college, earning her degree, teaching school, marrying and raising four children, those characters were in her mind. She wanted to put them in a book, but it wasn’t until she discovered romance novels with their emotional content and satisfying resolutions that she found a home for those characters.

Patricia still lives in Arizona with her family and pets and continues to spin stories about interesting places and compelling characters.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Her Most Serene Royal Highness Princess Alexis Mary Charlotte of the House of Chastain and the principality of Inbourg ran out of pavement and hope at exactly the same moment.

Dumbfounded, she stared over the hood of the compact car. Where had the road gone? She had been following this dratted ribbon of asphalt through Arizona’s White Mountains for hours now. It seemed like days. She’d seen nothing but trees, though she wouldn’t have been surprised to come upon the last remains of a hapless traveler propped against the base of a pine tree, his bony fingers holding a sign reading Abandon All Hope.

She sighed, leaned forward over the steering wheel and peered into the darkness.

Even after she had left the highway and turned off onto this side road, everything had seemed all right. She’d been sure that all she had to do was continue following it. Things would be fine once she reached Sleepy River. She’d been repeating it like a mantra since early that morning.

However, a few minutes ago, clouds had drifted in to cover the moon and these woods were desperately dark without its glow. This section of tall, dark pines was hardly ablaze with streetlights.

Squinting into the night, she tried to see something; a road sign, a blazed trail, a friendly native, anything around her besides trees, trees, and more trees.

She had long since left Morenci, the last town, far behind and she knew she couldn’t turn back. Wherever she was, she knew she was closer to Sleepy River than she was to Morenci, so she might as well keep going. She gripped the steering wheel and lifted herself up to gaze forlornly over the hood. She would keep going as soon as she figured out what had become of the road.

She knew she had taken exactly the right turns every step of the way as she followed the Coronado Trail, which had supposedly been scouted out by the Spanish conquistadors four hundred years ago.

“Too bad I don’t have one of them along to help me now,” she muttered in annoyance. A glance at the dashboard clock told her it was after eleven o’clock. The efficient little car, borrowed from her friend Rachel Burrows, was easy to drive, but every tense and aching muscle in her body told her it was time to quit.

But how could she? Somehow she’d managed to get herself lost—a rarity for her. She would have called for help if her cell phone hadn’t died on her. Besides which, she had a map and precise directions, and she was excellent at following both. Until a few days ago, her entire life had been a perfect model of direction-following.

In spite of that, she’d done something wrong because the paved road had petered out into nothingness leaving only a dirt track for her to follow.

“Oh blast and bother,” she groused.

With a discouraged sigh, she leaned her head against the steering wheel and closed her eyes. This had been the most impossibly longest day of her life and it was far from over.

Exhaustion nearly swamped her as she tried to recall exactly how all this had happened. Oh, yes. She’d been pursuing her dream; a dream of independence, self-reliance, having a career instead of being a glorified baby-sitter for her nephew. A dream of being her own person instead of the last of the three daughters of Prince Michael of Inbourg whose occupation seemed to be, as one tabloid so gracelessly put it, “Squandering the money of the citizens of Inbourg with marathon sessions of power shopping.”

Never mind that her sisters, Anya and Deirdre, had been photographed buying supplies for the disaster relief society they co-chaired. Tabloid reporters didn’t care about the truth, only about publishing the flashiest headlines. What would they think if they knew that Princess Alexis had taken a long-term substitute teaching job in a one-room schoolhouse in the mountains of Arizona? It didn’t matter what the truth actually was. Their assignment would be to put the most negative possible spin on it.

It would be bad if the tabloids discovered that she had come to the States on the pretense of spending several weeks pampering herself at a health spa. It would be disastrous if they learned she had installed Esther Wanfray, her lady-in-waiting, there in her place.