by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
In the dark of the night, however, when his defenses were done, she slipped into his dreams again and played havoc with his senses. By the time an icy cold dawn broke on the horizon, he was hot and bothered and more than a little irritated. And it was all Eliza's fault.
Given the chance, he would have avoided her the rest of the day if the opportunity had presented itself. But they still had the most difficult part of the search ahead of them— canvassing every town and village and wide spot in the road they came to until they found Lucas. And he'd have a hard time doing it without Eliza's help. Damn, that rubbed against the grain.
Meeting her at the truck at nine o'clock, he greeted her with a scowl. "I don't know about you, but I'm not interested in breakfast this morning. If you're hungry, I suggested you grab a candy bar or something from the gas station. We need to get on the road as soon as possible."
At his curt tone, Eliza lifted a delicately arched brow, but all she said was, "I could use a cup of coffee. There's a pot in the motel office. Would you like some?"
"No."
He didn't bother to soften his tone or so much as thank her for being considerate. "Somebody obviously got up on the wrong side of the bed," she said coolly. "What's the matter? Didn't you sleep well?"
"I slept just fine," he retorted. "Go get your coffee. We're wasting time."
She stiffened at that, outraged. "Whoa, Your Royal Highness! We're not going anywhere until we get a few things settled. I don't know what your problem is this morning, but you're not going to take it out on me. Understood? I didn't do anything—"
"The hell you didn't," he growled. "You are the problem!" And before she could guess his intentions, he reached for her and dragged her into his arms.
It was the wrong thing to do. Before his thoughts blurred and his mind shut down, he knew that. But the second his mouth covered hers, the thing that he knew was so wrong for him had ever felt so right. How long had he been aching to kiss her? To give in to this gut-wrenching need that was like a fever that never went away? It seemed like weeks, months, and he'd only known her a matter of days, dammit!
She did this to him, he thought, groaning at the taste of her, the feel of her. This was all her fault. If she hadn't had those snapping blue eyes of hers, he could have found a way to resist her. If her smile hadn't been so full of fun and mischief, she wouldn't have caught him off guard. And then there was those fiery-red curls of hers. Her hair had a life all its own and constantly tempted him to touch. What else could a man with any blood in his veins do?
But it was the feel of her slender body in his arms, the sweet heat of her mouth as she kissed him back that drove him crazy. They were standing in a parking lot in the middle of small-town Colorado, in full view of anyone who cared to drive by, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to make love to her. Just once before they found the prince. Was that too much to ask?
It was the thought of Lucas that finally brought him back to his senses. One minute, he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow, and the next, he suddenly realized what he was doing. Swearing under his breath, he abruptly put her from him, cursing himself for being a fool. Had he lost his mind? Lucas was God knew where, possibly in serious trouble, and it was his job to find him. And all he could think of was Eliza. If the king ever found out about this, he'd have his head, and he couldn't blame him. He had a job to do, and it was high time he did it!
"Get in the truck," he said roughly. "I'll get your coffee for you." And without giving her a chance to argue, he turned and strode to the office of the motel, where free coffee and doughnuts were provided for the guests.
Later, Eliza never remembered opening the door to the truck and sliding into the cab. Thankfully, she wasn't expected to drive. Her head reeling and her heart still slamming against her ribs, she just sat there, dazed. She'd never met anyone who could make her feel this way with just a kiss, and as her head started to clear, she readily admitted that she was shaken. In spite of the fact that she loved fairy tales and writing about the royals, she liked to think of herself as a woman who had her feet squarely on the ground. She was practical and pragmatic, and not one of those dreamy-eyed women who were constantly looking for their soul mate. As far as she was concerned, there was no such thing as Mr. Right. Love was based on physical attraction and chemistry, and she'd always believed that you could find that with any number of people.
But there was something about Lorenzo that just felt so right.
Suddenly feeling like crying, she readily admitted he scared the hell out of her. He wasn't driving all over Colorado with her because he liked her—he just needed her help finding Prince Lucas. Once they located him, she was crazy if she thought Lorenzo was going to stick around to be with her. He'd be gone so fast, it'd make her head swim. And if she was stupid enough to let herself fall in love with him, all she'd have to show for their time together was a possible Pulitzer and a broken heart.
"Remember the story," she muttered to herself. "That's the only reason you're in this. Concentrate on that, and you'll do just fine."
That should have been easy. She readily admitted she was ambitious. She wanted a Pulitzer, and she was willing to do whatever it took within the law to get one. But when Lorenzo returned with her coffee a few minutes later and slipped behind the wheel of the pickup, it wasn't thoughts of the story that made her heart skip a beat. It was Lorenzo and the brush of his fingers against hers when he handed her her coffee.
Still, she acted as if the kiss had never happened when she sipped her coffee and sighed in contentment. "Mmm. That's good and strong, just the way I like it. So.. .now what? Do we keep searching towns to the north or move out in circles from where the scarf was found?"
If he was bothered by the fact that she made no reference to the kiss they'd just shared, he gave no sign of it. Starting the truck, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed north. "We know he headed north from the crash site to where he camped, then north from there until he reached the road. I don't think he'd turn back south at this point and retrace his steps. And west only takes him deeper into the mountains. He could go east, of course, but my gut says north."
Eliza had always been one to follow a hunch. She'd learned a long time ago that her instincts very seldom let her down. "North it is, then. Maybe today we'll get lucky."
For a while, it seemed as if they had, in fact, stumbled onto a bit of luck. A clerk at the rancher supply store in the first town they reached frowned at the picture Lorenzo showed him of Prince Lucas and said, "Doesn't look like anyone I know but I can't swear to it. Maybe this is the fella that was staying at the old Barlow place last winter. I never saw him myself, but I heard folks talking about a drifter holing up there for a while. Of course, he's moved on now, but this could have been him."
Eliza exchanged a look with Lorenzo and told herself not to get too excited. The clerk hadn't actually identified the prince from his picture. "Where exactly is the Barlow place? We need to talk to the Barlows."
"Sorry, but you're out of luck there," the older man chuckled. "Dennis Barlow and his wife, Sarah, died twenty years ago in a fire. The place has been empty ever since."
"Someone must own it," Lorenzo said with a frown. "We'll talk to them."
"Sure. Their daughter, Martha. But she lives in New York City. She hasn't been back home since her parents died. She just lets the place sit empty."
"And you don't know anyone else who saw this drifter?"
"Nope."
"Then how did anyone even know there was someone staying there?"
"They saw some lights and thought it was a ghost," he said with a crooked grin. "Some folks have been saying for years that the place was haunted. When the lights appeared on the anniversary of the night Dennis and Sarah died, everybody got spooked and kept their distance."
"So no one ever went and checked out who was staying there?" Eliza asked. "Not even the sheriff?"
"Whoever it was wasn't hurting anything," he said with a shrug. "The place
was already half-burned down and barely standing. And like I said, folks around here thought it was a ghost, at first. By the time everyone calmed down and realized that was crazy, whoever was staying out there had moved on."
So there was no one who'd actually seen the drifter, no one who could even tell them anything at all about him. For all they knew, it could have been a woman. "We'd still like to look at the place," Eliza said, "just to see if my brother left any clues about where he was going. He had a breakdown last year and wandered off, and we've been looking for him ever since. He's not taking his medication, you know, and he's manic-depressive. That's why we have to find him. He could do anything."
It was a wild tale and just outrageous enough to be plausible. Lorenzo hadn't been comfortable with it at first, but they'd had to have some explanation of why they were looking for a missing man, and they couldn't just go up to a stranger on the street and ask if they'd seen Prince Lucas. Not only would people think they were crazy, but word of that kind of activity was bound to get back to all the fortune hunters who'd sat up and taken notice when Simon had announced on the front page of the Sentinel that the prince was alive and a new search for him was underway. So Eliza had come up with the idea of a sick, confused, lost brother, and so far, everyone had swallowed it whole.
The clerk was no exception. "Man, that's rough. No wonder you're worried." Quickly giving them directions to the abandoned Barlow property, he warned, "There's a No Trespassing sign at the gate, but don't pay any attention to it. The sheriff put it up because some teenagers started hanging out there, and he was afraid someone would get hurt."
Encouraged for the first time in days, they thanked him for the information, then immediately headed for the Barlow place. Following the directions he'd given them, they turned off on a side road on the north side of town and followed it until they passed over a creek and spotted a gate with a No Trespassing sign. Sitting well back in the trees were the remains of what had been the Barlow's home.
Eliza took one look at it and could understand why the locals had thought it was inhabited by ghosts. Even in the bright light of morning, the place looked spooky. It might have burned years ago, but the charred remains of what appeared to have once been a cozy cottage stood like a memorial to its dead owners. Half the roof was nothing but blackened rafters open to the sky, and the walls that still stood had been vandalized years ago. All of the windows had been broken or shot out, and the front door stood wide open, silently welcoming anyone brave enough to step inside.
Eliza didn't consider herself a superstitious person, but she took one look at the place and shivered. If a house could put off bad vibes, this one did. "If the prince really stayed here, I can see why he left after only a few days. This place gives me the willies."
Lorenzo grimly agreed. "He would have never stepped foot in the place if he was thinking clearly. Obviously, he's in worse shape than I realized."
"If he stayed here," Eliza pointed out. "We don't know for sure that the drifter really was the prince."
"Let's check it out," he said and stepped through the front door.
The inside of what was left of the cottage was even more depressing than the outside of the building. Smoke-and water-damaged remnants of the Barlow family's past had been untouched by time in the two rooms that had managed to escape the fire. Pictures hung on the wall just as they had the night the fire broke out. There were still dishes in the kitchen cabinets and clothes in the closet. If ashes from the fire and dust from the past twenty years hadn't covered everything in sight, it would have looked as if the owners of the house had just stepped out for a while.
"Lucas could have stayed here for a while," he said as he inspected the living room and noted the soundness of the roof and walls. "He could have built a fire in the fireplace and slept on the couch. After sleeping in caves and wandering around in the mountains after the crash, this must have looked damn good."
Moving to the windows to check the condition of the curtains, he didn't realize he'd disturbed some of the insects who called the house home until he felt something scurry across the back of his neck. Swearing, he slapped at it blindly. "Damn!"
Surprised, Eliza glanced up from the debris she was inspecting on a desk in the corner. "What is it?" she asked, concerned. "Did you hurt yourself?"
"It's just a spider," he retorted, slapping at the back of his neck again. "I think I got it."
She shuddered, a grimace of distaste wrinkling her brow. "Nasty things. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he assured her. "It just surprised me. Did you find anything interesting?"
Regretfully, she shook her head. "It doesn't look like anyone has been here for years."
Lorenzo had to agree. "Maybe it was just some kids playing tricks on the locals," he said as he moved to the fireplace and squatted down to see if he could tell how long it had been since a fire had been lit. "They probably got a big laugh when everyone started talking about ghosts."
Reaching for a nearby andiron, he poked at the charred logs there only to stiffen at the sight of a half-burnt matchbook. "I'll be damned," he swore softly. "He was here! Look! This is a matchbook from a nightclub in Paris. Lucas was there just two days before the crash!"
It wasn't much evidence, but it was a sign they were on the right track, and after running into one dead end after another for the past two days, they were both thrilled. "At least we know he was here," Eliza said, relieved. "The question is, where did he go from here?"
"North," Lorenzo said without hesitation. "I don't know if he was following the North Star or what, but I know he went north. Maybe he was confused and had his coordinates mixed up when he crashed. He might have thought he was south of Denver, and he was trying to find the city. Whatever the explanation, I think we'll find him if we just keep heading north."
Encouraged, they spent the rest of that day and the next two days doing exactly that, and neither was surprised when no one they spoke to could remember a man matching the Prince's description coming through that part of the country any time over the course of the past year. Lucas had kept to himself when he'd found the Barlow place, and Lorenzo could only suppose that he hadn't sought help because he was afraid. He couldn't imagine why he would be frightened, but that was the only reason he could think of for not going to the authorities. If he was still afraid when he left the Barlow place and moved on, then he was probably still avoiding people as much as possible. Tracking him wasn't going to get any easier.
Discouraged and bone tired by midafternoon of the third day of fruitless searching, his back and shoulders stiff with tension, he studied the sky in front of them and said, "I don't like the looks of those clouds. It looks like we've got some bad weather brewing. Why don't we stop for the day?"
"It does look like we're in for a blow," she agreed. "And I'd just as soon not get caught out in the middle of nowhere if a blizzard's going to hit."
So he checked the two of them into another small motel in another nameless Colorado town and didn't even care that the days and nights were starting to blur into one. A throbbing headache taking up residence in his head, he carried Eliza's suitcase into her room and said, "You're on your own for dinner. I'm not hungry."
Surprised, she frowned. "Are you all right? I saw a steak house when we drove into town. I thought I'd check it out later. You're welcome to join me."
"No, thanks," he retorted, rubbing at the pain that knitted a deep groove between his eyes. "I've got to write up a report for the king, then I'm going to take a shower and turn in early. You're welcome to use the truck, though." Pulling the pickup keys from his pocket, he tossed them to her, only to draw in a quick breath when a sudden hot pain flared in his shoulder.
"What's wrong?" Eliza asked, frowning when she noted how pale he'd suddenly become. "Did you pull a muscle or something?"
He felt like hell, but it wasn't his nature to complain. His mother had died when he was nine, leaving him with his father, Antonio, who had always been an indifferent pare
nt at the best of times, and downright cold when more was asked of him than he wanted to give. He'd had no patience with a grieving child and had drilled into Lorenzo that a man didn't show weakness. That was a lesson that Lorenzo had never forgotten. Even after his father died and he went to live with Marcus and Gwendolyn at the age of thirteen, he'd kept his feelings to himself.
"I'm fine," he said shortly. "I'm just a little stiff from driving so long. A hot shower will help."
"Maybe," she said, studying him worriedly. "Are you sure you haven't hurt your shoulder or something? Maybe I should take a look at it. I drove as much as you did today, and I'm not stiff."
"So you handle stress better than I do," he retorted. "I'm fine, Eliza. Quit worrying."
That was easy for him to say—he obviously didn't realize just how bad he looked. There was a dullness in his eyes and, in spite of his paleness, a flush to his cheeks that concerned her. But it was the stiffness with which he held himself that worried her the most. Something wasn't right.
"I'm not worried," she lied. "But if your muscles are so tight, you're in pain and you obviously need a massage. Sit down and I'll rub the kinks out for you."
"That's not necessary."
"So humor me," she retorted. "Take your shirt off." Not giving him a chance to argue, she pushed him into a chair and whipped his long sleeve polo shirt over his head, only to freeze at his groan of pain. "What is it?" she asked in alarm when every drop of blood drained from his face. "What did I do?"
"My shoulder," he said hoarsely. He tried reaching behind him, but even that was too painful.
Alarmed, Eliza rushed around behind him, only to gasp at the swollen, angry wound located just out of his reach near his right shoulder blade. "My God, it looks like some kind of insect bite! Do you remember something biting you?"