Man...Mercenary...Monarch (Royally Wed)

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Yeah, well, Laura didn’t have impossible dreams. There was a man out there somewhere who would realize how special she was, love her the way she deserved to be loved, give her a slew of babies to nurture.

  He frowned. That picture was not appealing to him one iota. Some faceless guy touching Laura? Kissing her? Making love to her? Some macho jerk crowing about his virility as Laura grew big with his child?

  “No way,” John said, lunging to his feet. “I’ll shoot him if he lays one hand on her.”

  Great, he thought, shaking his head in self-disgust. He was slipping over the edge. He had so much coming at him from all directions that he was on the verge of totally losing it.

  He should grab Jeremiah and leave, just head out for parts unknown and see where they ended up.

  John began to pace the large room.

  No, he couldn’t do that. He’d been running all his life, looking for something he’d never found. It was time to stop that futile search and create a home, a stable and serene existence for his son. Jeremiah deserved and needed that. He’d do it for his boy. Somehow.

  Jeremiah also had the right to bask in the love that would be forthcoming from Mitch, Cissy and Robert. Hell, Jeremiah had two sets of grandparents and a bunch of aunts, for crying out loud. His son had a huge family, waiting to welcome him into the fold.

  So many people, John thought, continuing his trek around the room. Crowding him. Pressing in on him. Wanting a part of him. Didn’t they realize he had nothing to offer them? That he’d never be what they expected him to be?

  He stopped by a globe that was mounted on a wooden stand. He spun the ball until it was a blur of colors, then he stopped it with a smack of his hand.

  Wynborough. In all his travels, he’d never even heard of the place.

  He lifted his hand and stared at the globe, his heart suddenly beating in a wild tempo as he saw what was beneath his palm.

  There it was, he thought incredulously. Wynborough. It was a small island in the North Atlantic. That was where he’d been born as James Wyndham. Proud and happy young parents had gazed at their miracle, their son, rejoicing in his birth.

  And then?

  Their lives had been shattered when that baby had been kidnapped. There, in Wynborough, tears had been shed as heartache so intense it defied description had torn at those parents when they came to believe that their baby was dead.

  He’d only known Jeremiah for a handful of hours, but the thought of someone taking his son away, ripping him out of his life, was chilling, would be more than he could bear.

  But his biological parents had lived that hideous nightmare for all these years, their pain probably dulling but never disappearing totally from their hearts, minds and souls.

  And now?

  He had the power, by simply being alive, to erase the dark cloud of sorrow and despair that had hung over those people’s heads for so very, very long.

  And the very thought of being pulled into that ecstatic family was causing a cold fist to tighten in his gut. The image in his mind’s eye was of smothering arms reaching for him, wanting to hold him fast in a world across the sea that he knew nothing about.

  He’d feel like a bug trapped under a microscope, being peered at, examined, as determinations were made as to whether or not he was worthy of his title. Prince. Son. Brother.

  He’d failed miserably in his role of being a true Colton. There was no way in hell he would ever measure up to the lofty levels of being a Wyndham.

  “Ah, man,” John said, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, “why don’t they all just go away and leave me alone? Let me get on with my life with Jeremiah and Laura and…”

  He dropped his hands and stiffened.

  Jeremiah and Laura?

  “Okay, that’s it,” he said, spinning around. “I’m losing my mind.”

  “That’s no bulletin,” Betty said from the doorway of the den.

  John chuckled despite the raging turmoil in his beleaguered mind.

  “Hello, Betty,” he said, smiling. “Thanks for the cinnamon rolls. Having them for breakfast was just like old times.”

  Betty leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. “But everything else in your life is new and different, isn’t it, John?”

  “You can say that again. I’m in deep, deep trouble here.”

  “Oh, not necessarily,” she said. “Changes can be unsettling, but they aren’t automatically bad. You’ve got to give yourself some time to adjust, for things to calm down a bit.” She paused. “Where’s that darling baby of yours?”

  “Laura is with him at the cabin. I came up to do a load of wash and to call my folks.”

  Betty nodded. “Good. I’m glad you phoned them. I know without asking that your parents were thrilled to learn they have a grandson.”

  “Yes. They’re…they’re remarkable people, my parents,” he said quietly. “They’ve always accepted me as I am, even though I’m sure I was a disappointment to them.”

  Betty pushed herself away from the doorjamb and crossed the room to stand in front of John.

  “What’s this nonsense you’re spouting?” she said, planting her hands on her hips.

  “Come on, Betty,” John said, frowning. “I’m not completely stupid. A true Colton would have been dedicated to the land, this ranch, the life-style here. I split the moment I was old enough to go.”

  “So? Your folks never expected you to be a carbon copy of Robert or Mitch just because they adopted you and made you a Colton. They respected your right to be true to yourself, who you are.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he said, his voice rising. “And just who in the hell am I, Betty? There’s a whole slew of people on some island in the North Atlantic who are now expecting me to behave like a prince.

  “What will my first assignment be? Get on my white horse and ride out to find Sleeping Beauty so I can kiss her awake?”

  “Now that,” Betty said laughing, “was funny.”

  “There’s nothing humorous about this entire mess,” he said gruffly. “The only patch of sunshine in my life right now is Jeremiah and…Forget it.”

  “And Laura?” Betty said, raising her eyebrows.

  “I didn’t say that. I have to go fold my wash.”

  “You do that,” Betty said as John moved around her. “Is Laura coming back up to the house?”

  John stopped in the doorway, his back to her. “No, Laura is going to be spending time at the cabin, helping me out with Jeremiah, teaching me how to tend to him.”

  “Ah,” Betty said.

  John turned and glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean? That…that ‘ah?”’

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Betty flapped her hands at him. “Go get your wash out of my way. I have laundry to do, too.”

  “Mmm,” he said, then strode away.

  “This is getting better by the minute,” Betty said, laughing softly.

  Laura sat at the kitchen table, humming as she chopped carrots on a wooden cutting board, then dropped them into a soup pot she’d discovered in a bottom cupboard.

  She’d finished cleaning the cereal-splattered kitchen, then began to explore. She’d found a package of beef in the freezer, defrosted it in the small microwave oven, then cut it into cubes and browned them in a frying pan with some onions.

  The enticing aroma of the meat and onions still lingered in the air as she prepared the vegetables for the stew she was creating.

  The front door of the cabin opened and closed, then moments later John appeared in the kitchen carrying a stack of clean, folded laundry.

  “Hi,” Laura said, smiling. “I’m making stew for dinner tonight. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Well, sure, that’s great,” John said, smiling slightly, “but I don’t expect you to cook.”

  “Do you know how to cook?”

  John chuckled. “No.”

  “That settles it then. Besides, this is fun. I haven’t prepared a meal in the five years I’ve worked for the W
yndhams. There’s a chef on staff at the palace in Wynborough.”

  “They live in a palace?” John said, his voice rising. “An honest-to-goodness palace?”

  Laura shrugged. “They are the royal family, you know. Granted, it’s an historic structure, has been there forever, but it’s very homey and comfortable.”

  “Hmm. Is Jeremiah still asleep?”

  “Yes, he’s taking a really long nap. Of course, he could be off his routine due to the upheaval he’s been through. His life, as he’s known it, has totally changed.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around.” John set the laundry on one of the chairs, then sat down opposite Laura. “Any cinnamon rolls left?”

  “Nope,” she said, laughing. “I ate them. Those yummy things are addictive.”

  “Yep, they are. Mitch and I used to polish off a pan each when Betty baked them.” John drummed his fingers on the table in a restless, edgy rhythm. “I…um…I called my folks while I was up at the house. There’s no telephone in this cabin, in case you haven’t noticed. Will that be a problem if the Wyndhams are trying to reach you?”

  “No. I can always return their call. Back up to the part where you called your parents.”

  “I only spoke with my mother,” John said, still tapping the table. “My dad was busy somewhere. They own a bed-and-breakfast in Washington State. The San Juan Islands, actually. They retired, got bored, and took on a brand-new endeavor.”

  “Good for them.”

  “Yeah, they like it fine, I guess. Sure is different from ranching, but it seems to suit them.”

  “People can change their life-styles and still be contented, John,” Laura said, glancing up at him before attacking another carrot.

  “Well, I’m going to find out if I’m one of those people, aren’t I?”

  Laura smiled. “Yes, you certainly are.” She paused. “What did your mother say about Jeremiah?”

  “She was very excited. She wants pictures of him and the whole nine yards.”

  “Did you talk about the Wyndhams and how you feel about being one of them?”

  John sighed. “Yeah. My mom was cool, steady, didn’t feel threatened because I suddenly have this whole new family.

  “She said I’d always be her son, but she could certainly understand that my biological parents want—need—to meet me, to see for themselves that I’m really alive after all those years of believing I was dead.”

  Laura nodded.

  “But I feel so damn pressured, pushed to the wall. What would I say to those people? Hey, how’s life in the royal fast lane?

  “They’re going to expect so much from me, and I have nothing to give them. They’re strangers. They’re—hell, listen to me. I get around you and I turn into a motormouth. I don’t talk this much. Ever.”

  Laura’s hands stilled and she looked directly into John’s eyes.

  “Except to me,” she said softly. “Everyone needs someone they can share their thoughts with, John. We’ve been doing that with each other from the moment we met. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “No, I guess there isn’t.” John flattened his hands on the top of the table and continued to meet Laura’s gaze. “There’s nothing wrong about anything we’ve shared.”

  A flutter of heat stirred in Laura’s body as instant images of them making love flitted across her mental vision.

  She tore her gaze from John’s and picked up a potato.

  “Laura,” John said, his voice slightly raspy, “when I walked back here from the house, I could feel this mess I’m in begin to slide off my shoulders, like dropping a heavy burden.

  “I came into the cabin and shut the door, closed it against the Wyndhams and their needs. Inside these walls it’s just me, Jeremiah and…and you.”

  Laura’s head snapped up. “John, don’t.”

  “It’s true. No one can come through that door unless I allow them to.”

  “The Wyndhams aren’t going to go away,” she said. “You can’t play ostrich, pretend they’re not out there waiting for you. Is that the lesson you want to teach your son? When the going gets tough, run and hide?”

  A flash of anger crossed John’s face, then disappeared in the next instant.

  “No,” he said. “That’s not what I want to teach Jeremiah.”

  “Fine. Good.” Laura began to peel the potato. “Jeremiah will learn to face things head-on, and hopefully know how to be true to himself.”

  “That’s quite a menu.”

  “Well, it’s all very important,” she said, cubing the potato. “A man—a woman, too, of course—should know what he wants, needs.”

  “I see,” John said slowly. “That’s very important, huh?”

  “It certainly is,” she said decisively.

  John leaned forward and snagged one of Laura’s wrists.

  “Okay,” he said. “I want, need, to make love with you, Laura Bishop.”

  Laura dropped the knife onto the pile of potato cubes and stared at John with wide eyes.

  “What?” she said.

  “You heard me. You’re the one who said a man should be true to himself, to his wants and needs. I want you, Laura.”

  “But…”

  “You also said a woman should do the same thing. So? Do you want me, too? Do you, Laura?”

  “Stop it,” she said, her voice trembling. “We agreed that we’d had one glorious night together, but it was over. You can’t just suddenly change the rules.”

  “Why not? Damn it, Laura, what happens inside this cabin has nothing to do with what’s waiting beyond the door. We wouldn’t be hurting anyone by—”

  “Having an affair?” she said, yanking her arm free of his hold. “A tacky little fling? Play house? Be mommy, daddy and baby? No, thank you, Mr. Colton. Or should I call you Prince James? Whoever you are, you’re despicable.”

  John sank back in his chair and frowned. “And you’re mad as hell.”

  “You’ve got that straight, buster,” she said with an indignant little sniff. “I do not—repeat, do not—engage in meaningless romps in the hay.”

  John got to his feet, planted his hands on the table and leaned forward to speak close to Laura’s lips.

  “I wasn’t implying that you did,” he said, his voice very low, very rumbly and very, very male. “What you and I shared in that motel was special, rare, beautiful.

  “No, we don’t have a chance in hell of a future together because we come from different worlds. But we do have the now. It’s here, it’s ours.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Think about it,” he said before picking up the laundry from the chair and striding out of the kitchen.

  Chapter Seven

  To Laura’s heartfelt relief, John returned to the kitchen carrying a babbling Jeremiah.

  “Well, hello, sweet boy,” Laura said, smiling. “I was beginning to think you were going to sleep the day away. I bet you’re ready for a snack.”

  “Snack?” John said.

  “Sure,” she said. “Put him in the high chair and give him a couple of crackers and some bite-size cheese cubes. He can have apple juice in that cup with the lid and spout thing.”

  “Got it,” John said. “Okay, sport, your dad is going to fix you a gourmet snack. I’ll have you know, Laura, that I changed his diaper on the first shot.”

  “You’re a pro,” Laura said, laughing.

  Jeremiah clapped his hands right on cue and John’s laughter mingled with Laura’s.

  After Jeremiah had devoured his snack and Laura had put the pot of stew on the stove to simmer, the trio went into the living room. They sat on the floor in front of the warming fire in the hearth and played with Jeremiah.

  Laura and John built towers of blocks that Jeremiah toppled over with squeals of delight. They rolled a ball back and forth among them, taught the baby how to play patty-cake, entertained him with mouse and rabbit hand puppets, then John settled onto the sofa with Jeremiah on his lap and read him the story of Snow White.

  �
��This isn’t a good book to read to a kid,” John said to Laura. “This gal is living with seven guys.”

  Laura dissolved in a fit of laughter, and one by one, she stored the memories safely away in the treasure chest in her heart.

  After Laura straightened up the kitchen once lunch was over, she walked into the living room, then stopped, hardly breathing, as she drank in the sight before her.

  John was stretched out on the sofa asleep with a snoozing Jeremiah tummy-down on his daddy’s chest, his little head tucked beneath John’s chin. One of John’s large hands was spread across the baby’s back. The storybook had slid unnoticed to the floor.

  Tears filled Laura’s eyes and she pressed trembling fingertips to her lips.

  Oh, look at them, she thought. They were so beautiful, so perfect. And each of them was staking a claim on her heart.

  She had no defenses left, was succumbing to emotions so powerful they were consuming her, rendering her incapable of keeping a firm hold on reality.

  Jeremiah was the child she’d yearned for, the baby she wanted to love and nurture, watch as he grew into a wonderful man ready to face the challenges of his future.

  And John? Slowly but surely, she was losing the battle to keep her growing feelings for him in check. Inch by emotional inch, she was falling in love with John Colton…Prince James Wyndham of Wynborough.

  Oh, how foolish she was. Her lack of experience and sophistication was going to cause her the greatest heartache she had ever known.

  She was falling in love with a man who wished to have nothing more than a fleeting affair with her. She was losing her heart to a baby she would have to walk away from.

  Two tears spilled onto Laura’s cheeks as she continued to stare at the pair sleeping so peacefully on the sofa.

  John had stated loud and clear that they had absolutely no future together. They were from different worlds, he had declared.

  Oh, couldn’t he see that wasn’t true? Didn’t he realize that he was becoming her rainbow wish, the man she wanted to spend the remainder of her days with? Didn’t he know that she would love Jeremiah as her own son?