by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
Anna gazed at Tyler, visible inside the gas station, studying a wall-mounted map with the attendant. It was true enough that she liked him, and certainly true that no man's kiss had ever affected her as his did. But that was a sad substitute for the depth of emotion shared by Julia and Rashid, and Christina and Jack. Would that depth come? Could he be the one? Or was she naive enough to mistake another schoolgirl crush for the real thing?
"Aaan-naa," Christina called in a singsong voice. "Come down out of the clouds and get your feet on the ground again. I assume from your silence that it's going quite well. Tyler hasn't disappointed you?"
With her free hand, Anna touched her lips and imagined she still felt the tingle from this morning's kiss. "No," she said softly. "Not in the least."
"He seemed a polite young man."
"Oh, he can be so polite, I want to choke him."
Christina laughed. "I know what you mean. But consider it from his point of view. You are the youngest and most protected daughter of a powerful king in a region of the world known for rather … er, harsh punishments. There are some countries nearby where, even today, he could be put to death for what he's doing with you."
"But Montebello has never been that rigid. And there are some who think Papa would breathe a sigh of relief to receive an offer for my hand in marriage."
"You mean an offer that you might conceivably accept."
"Is it wrong to want a proposal of marriage to be wildly romantic and based on love rather than a business proposition?"
"No, Anna. It's not wrong at all, and don't ever let anyone convince you otherwise. Marriage is too difficult and much too important to do it for the wrong reasons. Hold out for love—and trust me. It'll come."
She watched Tyler laugh at something the station attendant said, then walk out the door and come toward her, his strides long, his boots splashing in the dirty slush that covered the ground. Was it possible he was the one for whom she should hold out? The one meant to displace her family, to brighten her life, to father her children?
The idea sent a shiver down her spine and heat curling deep inside her. Even if he wasn't that one—the love of a lifetime, the happily-ever-after one, the fairy-tale prince for a reallife princess—she was fairly certain he was the one for whom she'd been saving the intimacy. Powerfully intense, tingling, hot-and-shivery kisses might not provide much of a basis for love and marriage, but they seemed the perfect reason for the king's most protected daughter to give up her virginity.
"You're drifting again, Anna Try not to sound so dreamy and love struck when you speak to Papa, and you'd probably better not speak to Mama at all. She knows the symptoms all too well."
"Tyler's coming back, so I'll talk to you later, Christina. I'll call you. Really, I will. I love you."
Frigid air blasted into the SUV as he opened the door. Hi, cheeks reddened by the wind, Tyler glanced at her, then the phone. "You calling somebody?" he asked, then blew on his ungloved hands to warm them.
"No. Christina called. My sister. In Billings."
"I know who and where Christina is, Princess. What'd she want?"
"My father called to inquire whether I'm enjoying my visit I should contact him after we check into our lodgings for the evening."
He glanced at his watch. "It's already eleven o'clock there. If you want to catch him before bed, you should go ahead and call him now."
"No, thank you. He awoke Christina in the middle of the night, and she'd like me to return the favor."
"Huh. You're just afraid to talk to him when he's wide awake and coherent, aren't you?" He fastened his seat belt, then pulled out of the gas station and onto the street.
Not afraid to talk to him, Anna silently acknowledged. She simply preferred to not lie to him directly.
Garden City was at a higher elevation than Clarkston had been, and had received some heavy snowfalls recently. The worst of it had been removed by snowplows, though the streets were far from clear. There was a thick pack of dirty snow, rutted and slick, but the SUV handled it beautifully … and Tyler handled the SUV beautifully.
"Where is the mine?"
"Changing the subject?"
She smiled brightly. "You noticed."
His corresponding look was less than amused … though his green eyes couldn't hide the fact that he found some humor in the conversation. "It's about ten miles out of town, but we may not get there today. The guy at the gas station says there's snow moving in. Before we head that way, we're going to find a place to stay for the night."
"Oh, I hope it does snow. It's so beautiful," she said. Then, with a grin and a shrug, she added, "Besides, this is Montana. What's a little snow?"
Within the hour, she learned the answer to that. They'd checked into the guest lodge the gentleman at the gas station had recommended—owned by his brother and sister-in-law, as it turned out. Compared to her accommodations the two nights previous, she had found the cabin luxurious. It was built of logs and set among a forest of pines, and from the outside it looked like every frontier cabin on the old television shows Roberto so favored. Inside, there was one large room—living room, dining room and kitchen—and the bedroom was tucked in a small loft upstairs.
The only down side was that Tyler's matching cabin was a dozen feet away.
Ever since he'd mentioned that small detail, she'd been debating how to persuade him that two cabins were unnecessary. She hadn't found the answer yet.
Minutes after they'd set out for the mine the snow had started falling—heavy, fat flakes that turned everything in their path into cold, white lumps. For the first ten minutes it had charmed her, as she watched the flakes melt the instant they landed on the warm glass of the windshield. Then the wind had picked up, and the flakes had stopped melting so quickly, and before long they weren't melting at all. She imagined the SUV resembled a great lumbering white beast, thoroughly covered except where the windshield wipers labored to keep the glass clean. With all the other windows coated, though it was late afternoon, inside the vehicle it seemed well past dusk.
"Hell." Tyler slowed the vehicle to a crawl, carefully steered onto the shoulder, then swung the steering wheel hard to the left. "Sorry, Princess. I don't want to get stuck out here in this. We've got to go back."
She sighed with relief, then felt her face heat with embarrassment when he glanced at her.
"You nervous about this?"
Sheepishly she shrugged. "I live on an island where the sun shines three hundred days or more a year. Wintry weather is a whole new world to me."
"You should have spoken up."
Once again she shrugged. "I assumed you knew what you were doing. If you thought the trip too dangerous, you would postpone it."
"Glad to hear you have such faith in me," he said dryly.
"Of course I have faith in you. If you weren't well trained and more than qualified to handle this assignment, the Noble Men never would have given it to you, and my father never would have entrusted you with protecting his daughter or locating his son. There's no reason—"
"Princess," he interrupted, releasing the steering wheel long enough to raise one hand, palm toward her, in what might have been a signal to stop … or a gesture of surrender. "I was just kidding … but thanks for the vote of confidence."
"I don't imagine you ever lack confidence." She tried to make her voice sound as dry as his had moments earlier, but wasn't sure she'd succeeded. In spite of his comment at Buffalo Bill's that afternoon—I would have been the biggest failure my father and his partners have ever seen—she didn't believe he ever doubted himself.
"Then your imagination's not too lively for someone whose life goal was once to become a fairy."
For some silly reason, she was touched that he remembered her comment. Being the youngest, the most sheltered and the most spoiled of the royal children, she'd learned over the years that many people treated her the least seriously.
And why shouldn't they? She wasn't in line to someday ascend to the throne, as L
ucas was. She hadn't produced a new heir for the neighboring nation of Tamir, as Julia had. She wasn't a brilliant researcher making life better for everyone, as Christina did. She was just Anna, the baby, who made public appearances on behalf of the king and sat on the boards of charities which had never bothered to discover whether she was capable of giving them anything more than her name.
Thinking back to his comment about being a failure, she quietly asked, "How important is this job to you?"
For a time he appeared to concentrate intently on the road ahead of them. The snow swirled and blew, severely limiting visibility. In places there was nothing ahead but a swath of white that stretched from the timber line on one side to the corresponding line on the other side. All he could do, she supposed, was drive slowly and hope he managed to remain on the indistinguishable road.
At last, when she'd assumed he wasn't going to answer her question, he spared her a quick glance. "This job? Right here, right now? Or the whole thing?"
"The Noble Men. Following in your father's and brother's footsteps. Do you enjoy it? Is it a career you can see yourself pursuing in five or ten or twenty years?"
"I haven't really done enough yet to know."
It was an easy answer, but by no means complete. She wondered if he would ever trust her enough to confide the rest. If he never did … well, that would answer her earlier question about whether he might be the one, wouldn't it?
Even considering the possibility stirred an ache in her stomach … which also might have some bearing on the answer to that question.
After what seemed interminable hours, they reached the town. Just ahead on the right, not yet visible through the blizzard, was their ledge. Tyler, however, turned left, into the parking lot of a busy supermarket.
"Why is everyone shopping in such bad weather?" Anna asked as the SUV slid into a parking space.
"They're stocking up on supplies, in case they get snowed in. That's what we're going to do, too."
Anna had never been in an American supermarket before. This one wasn't as big as some she'd seen in Billings, but it pleased her. Tyler took charge of gathering the real food, while she focused on treats. She'd been indulged since infancy with the best desserts a small army of pastry chefs could produce and so had never truly experienced American junk food. She intended to make up for lost time.
By the time they paid for their purchases and lugged all the bags to the vehicle, the snow was blinding. They hurried to the lodge—if the grand speed of two or three miles an hour could be considered hurrying—and parked in front of her cabin.
She filled both hands with the handles of plastic grocery bags, ducked her head and followed Tyler to the cabin steps. The drifts reached to mid-calf and were building with every gust of wind, and snowflakes stung her face and coated her lashes.
When she missed a step and her feet went out from under her, she found herself lying on her back, snow falling inside her coat, creeping between her socks and jeans, clinging to her hair and neck and hands. Gazing up at the angry winter sky, she sighed softly. "I believe I have seen enough snow now. Please stop."
"Sorry, Princess. I don't believe Old Man Winter is one of your loyal subjects. I doubt this'll stop until he's ready to stop it." Tyler bent to give her a hand up, lifting her easily to her feet. "You okay?"
"Yes, quite," she replied, though she sounded breathless. Because he'd pulled her up so effortlessly … or because he was standing so close? Still holding her hand. Looking at her.
For a moment she clung to him, and he appeared content to let her cling while they stared at each other. Granted, she wasn't particularly experienced with the physical aspect of romance, but she wasn't totally naive. He wasn't looking at her bodyguard to princess, or even Noble Man to employer's pesky daughter. No, be was looking at her the way he had that morning, just before he kissed her. The way a man looked at a woman he felt something for.
A woman he wanted.
Was she looking back at him the same way? she wondered.
Sadly, the moment passed when a great shiver passed through her. He gave a shake of his head. "Come on, Annie," he said abruptly. "Let's get inside before you turn into a Popsicle."
Come on, Annie . Simple words, but they chased away her chill and even warmed the snow that was melting inside her clothing. Who needed shelter and heating systems and dry clothing to stay warm? Tyler could accomplish the job for her with no more than a look, a touch, a quiet husky word, and she would be delighted to return the favor.
As he helped her up the steps, she cleared the hoarseness from her voice and spoke brightly—perhaps a bit too brightly—to hide the direction of her thoughts. "Popsicles … I bought some banana Popsicles. I wonder which bag they're in…"
* * *
By the time Tyler got the last of the groceries and the princess's luggage inside the cabin, the snowstorm had become a bona fide blizzard. He dropped his load inside the door, then stomped off the snow that clung to him in layers. If he had any sense, he would take some of the food and get the hell over to his own cabin before it disappeared in the swirling snow. But the truth was, he wasn't totally comfortable with the idea of going over there at all. What if something happened in the night—if Anna needed him? She could get sick. Someone could break in. More likely, the power could go off.
"Oh, good, you brought my bags." She came from the kitchen, padding across the wood floor in bare feet, and hefted one of the suitcases. "My clothes are damp. I'm going to get changed."
"I can take that—"
She waved him off. "You're not a porter, remember?"
She was halfway up the stairs when the phone rang. He glanced at it, on a desk not five feet away, then said, "Go ahead. I'll get it." It had to be someone at the motel office, since no one else in the world knew where they were. After stomping again to dislodge some of the snow starting to melt, he took two strides and picked up the phone.
"Mr. Ramsey, this is Gemma Lee in the office. I wanted to remind you that you've got a big supply of firewood on the back porch, and there are emergency supplies, including plenty of canned food, in the pantry off the kitchen."
"Yes, I remember." She'd explained that to him when he'd paid for the two cabins.
"Of course. Also … well … we have a bit of a problem, Mr. Ramsey. You see, we're booked up solid on account of the bad weather, and the highway's been closed down, and … well, we have one more family than we have cabins. Now, we can put 'em up here in the office, but they've got three little ones, including a baby, and…"
Tyler's stomach knotted. He wanted to save Miz Gemma Lee from beating around the bush, to say, Sorry, your problem, not mine—to remind her that he'd paid for two cabins and by God he was going to use two cabins.
But nobody had asked for this blizzard—well, except the princess, who thought it was so beautiful. And how could he insist on having two cabins for the two of them while a family of five camped out in the motel office, with no beds, no bathroom, no diversions for the kids—all because he was afraid to spend the night alone in a cabin with Annie?
Not Annie. Anna. Princess Anna. Her Royal Highness.
As if mere words could make him forget the way he'd kissed her that morning, or the way she'd clung to him. He wasn't a man who liked clingy women, but there was something different about her clinging. It made him feel like he was doing something right and good. Like he was … worthy.
"Mr. Ramsey? Are you there? Oh, darn, I hope the phones haven't gone out. I swear, this is gonna be—"
"I'm here, Gemma Lee. I take it you'd like to give my cabin to your late guests."
"It would sure be a help to 'em if you don't mind."
"Send them to Number 12. Ms. Peterson and I will stay in Number 11."
"Oh, wonderful! Thank you so much, Mr. Ramsey."
He hung up, pulled on his gloves one more time, and went out into the snow. As big as he was and carrying an extra seventy pounds in luggage, it was a struggle to get back inside. One more trip, he pro
mised himself as headlights weakly penetrated the snow, and then he was staying inside by the fire until all this was over.
A small SUV was parked haphazardly in front of Number 12 when he reached it. He didn't waste time on introductions or anything else—just called over the wind, "Need some help?"
The woman climbing out of the passenger seat gratefully pushed a small child into his arms—a boy, judging by the superheroes on his coat. He took the kid inside, returned for a little girl dressed in pink and purple, then brought in an armload of luggage while the father brought in the mother and the baby. He and the father made one last trip for the rest of the luggage, then the inability to feel his extremities sent him double-time back to Anna's cabin.
She was kneeling in front of the fireplace, coaxing a waxy firestarter to life underneath a towering pile of logs. When he burst into the cabin, she looked startled, then immediately recovered. "I thought you'd gone on to your cabin without even saying good-night."
"I—I—I w-was h-helping th-the neigh-b-b-bors." He peeled off his gloves, yanked off his coat and hung it on the doorknob, then pried off his boots without bothering with the frozen laces. After so much in-and-out, his jeans felt like ice, and his heavy denim shirt had long since lost whatever warmth-giving capabilities it might have possessed.
She watched him remove his outer layer, then politely said, "Take your coat off. Make yourself comfortable."
"D-d-don't be a—a sm-sm-smart—"
"Aleck?" she provided helpfully.
He glowered at her, then tried to decide whether to go for dry clothes and then the fire, or thaw first and worry about dry clothes once he could feel again. Thawing won.
She scooted to the side as he approached. The firestarter was burning now, and bright flames licked over and between the logs, making them crackle and sizzle. He sat down on the hearth, and she wordlessly handed him a towel apparently used to dry her curls, because it smelled of her shampoo. When had he become familiar with that scent? he wondered as he dried his face, then rubbed the towel over his hair. He hadn't really been close enough until this morning when he'd kissed her … and God knows, shampoo hadn't been uppermost in his thoughts at that time.