“Who else knows you’re pregnant?”
She looked at him quickly, then back at the sandwich. “Just, um, just Molly.” She tore off a tiny piece of crust. “She’s one of my mother’s secretaries.”
He bent his knees and shifted forward, setting the bottle on the table. “You told a secretary? Not a friend or your sister?”
“Molly is a friend. And Lucie—” She shook her head. “Lucie’s busy with her own issues. Besides, we’ve never exactly shared secrets.”
“Thought you were close in age?”
“We are. She’s only two years ahead. But—” She shrugged. “We’ve all had our responsibilities growing up. Some more than others.” She smashed the tidbit of crust between her thumbs. “Mostly, mine has been to provide window dressing at my mother’s events.”
“You pulled together the companies who funded that last orphanage. That’s a little more than window dressing.”
She looked at him and it was his turn to glance away and shrug. “I can read,” he muttered. “And Jess was yammering on about it not too long ago.”
In other words, don’t get excited thinking he’d been following her activities. She wondered how impressed he’d be if he knew the companies she’d been able to pull together for the funding were all controlled by the Earl of Estingwood, and took another bite of the sandwich.
The peanut butter and jelly stuck to the roof of her mouth, reminding her of the sandwiches she used to beg off their cook when she was a little girl. “Well—” she swallowed it down with another drink of water “—speaking of reading. We might have avoided Ophelia Malone for now, but I doubt she’ll go quietly into the night.”
“She got lucky with one photo,” he dismissed.
“Sometimes one photo is all it takes to set off a firestorm.”
“Afraid your—” he hesitated for a moment “—future earl is going to see it?”
She was certain he’d been going to say fiancé. Undoubtedly, James and his staff had already seen the photo and were organizing the appropriate damage control. But she didn’t share that fact because Quinn wouldn’t want to hear about it. “May I use your phone?” she asked instead.
He looked at the pocket watch he’d left earlier on the table. “Nearly eleven. Your aunt figures we’re still in Vicker’s Corners.”
“I’m not calling my aunt.” It would be early in London, but James always rose early. “I’m calling James.”
His hazel eyes went flat. “Missing Lord Banning already?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous,” she said sweetly. Of course he wasn’t. He’d have to feel something other than reluctant lust and duty for him to be jealous. “May I use your phone or not?”
He picked up his bottle and gestured with the bottom of it. “It’s right there on the wall, princess.”
And he wasn’t inclined to give her any privacy. That was more than apparent.
She went over to the phone that was, indeed, hanging on the wall just inside the doorway. Even though she knew Quinn had built the house within the past ten years, the phone was an old-fashioned thing with a long coiled cord tethering the receiver to the base. She plucked the receiver off the hook and punched out the numbers she knew by heart. After a number of clicks and burps, the line finally connected and James answered.
“It’s Amelia,” she greeted. She could feel Quinn’s eyes boring holes in her backside. “How’s your father?”
“Amelia! Where the bloody hell have you been? The media here is going mad. Not even your mother knew you were leaving. Are you all right?”
“I know. And I...I’m fine.” She absently worked her finger into the center of the coiling phone cord. “You’ve got to issue a statement that we’re not being married.”
Even across the continents, she could hear his sigh. “You’re back with that fellow, then.”
She didn’t know how she’d describe the situation with Quinn, but “back with” wouldn’t be it. “I know what you’d hoped, Jimmy, but you’ve got to trust me. It’s better to come from you. And the sooner the better.” She looked over her shoulder when she heard a scrape on the floor.
Quinn had pushed back his chair and he walked past her, leaving the room.
“Ophelia’s been hunting me around,” she said into the phone, wanting to laugh a little hysterically because there was a gun rack containing several rifles attached to the wall above the doorway.
“If you hadn’t given her something to find, she’d have had to give up,” James returned. “You let her catch you kissing that man.”
She exhaled, pressing her forehead to the cream-colored wall for a moment. “Just tell your father the truth,” she said. “Tell him you’re not in love with me. You never were!”
“Father doesn’t care about love. He cares about bloodlines and he decided a year ago that yours was the right one.”
“A marriage between us would be a disaster.” She said the same thing she’d been telling him for months, ever since the whole idea of a union between them had come up. “You’re in love with Astrid and I’m—”
“In love with your Horseback Hollow rancher,” he finished and sighed again. “Father’s condition is worse. He’s home still. Refuses to go to hospital. Says there’s no point alerting the vultures and he wants to die in his own bed.”
She exhaled. “I’m so sorry, Jimmy.” For all the earl’s faults, he thought he knew what was best for his son. “How’s your mum?”
“A rock, like always. Can you just hold on a few more days, Amelia? That’s what the doctors have told us he has left. Days.” He cleared his throat. “Once father is...gone...I’ll issue a statement. You won’t come out looking badly. I’ll blame it on my increased duties or something. Mutual decision and all that.”
She knew his request wasn’t because of the Earldom he’d inherit. It was because, despite the problems between them, he wanted his father to die in peace, believing his son was on the track he’d laid.
“A few days,” she agreed huskily.
“Thank you. You’ve been a good friend, Amelia.” She heard him speaking to someone in muffled tones, then he came back. “I have to go. Take care of yourself. And look out for Ophelia Malone.”
“I will.” The line clicked, going dead and she unwound her fingers from the cord and replaced the receiver. She left the kitchen, thinking that Quinn would be in the living area. But he wasn’t. Nor was he upstairs.
She went to the window and pulled up the blinds, looking out. She could see a light on inside the barn and she pushed her feet back into the sandals and went outside. The night air was balmy and quite a bit warmer than it had been six weeks earlier, and it smelled earthy and green.
He’d parked his pickup truck next to where she’d left his sister’s van and she walked around them as she headed toward the barn. Unlike the house, which he’d built not so long ago, the barn looked like it had stood there for generations and in the dark now, with gold light spewing out the opened doorway, it looked almost medieval. She stepped inside.
Quinn, still shirtless, was stacking bales of hay against one wall.
She pulled in a soundless breath at the sight of him, entirely too aware of her lack of undergarments beneath the shirttails.
Her sandals scuffed the hard packed ground and he looked at her.
“I, um, I would have been much less nervous the other night had I known there were lights in here,” she said, gesturing with her hand toward the row of industrial looking fixtures hanging high overhead.
He turned his back and tossed another bale into place. She wasn’t sure why. To her, it looked as if he were just moving the stack from one spot to another.
She rubbed her damp palms down her thighs. “James will issue a statement in a few days.”
He just kept working. “
Why the wait?”
She hesitated and saw the way his lips twisted as if she’d done exactly what he expected.
Annoyed, she walked across the barn, feeling bits of straw and grit crunching beneath her shoes. “I told you James’s father is in poor health. He’s also been hiding that fact because, in addition to being the Earl of Estingwood, he is head of Estingwood Mills.”
“The textiles.”
She wondered if he’d learned that courtesy of his sister, or if he’d found out on his own. “James has been running the company in his father’s stead and fending off a takeover bid by one of their competitors. If the earl’s health was made public it would endanger their hold. Once James succeeds his father, that will no longer be the case. The mill will be safe, as will the hundreds of people it employs.”
“Again, why the wait?” His tone was hard.
“The title is passed on at the earl’s discretion during his lifetime, or to his son upon his death which, according to James, sadly is fairly imminent. Before now, he’s insisted that James be married to an appropriate mate before receiving the title and had been doing his best to see that happened.”
He tossed another hay bale and turned to her. “So the old man was yanking Banning’s strings.”
“I suppose it might look that way.” Sweat gleamed across his broad chest and she looked away, shocked at how badly she wanted to press her mouth against that salty sheen. “Lord Banning’s not a bad man. He just has very traditional expectations where his family is concerned. You behave suitably. You marry suitably.”
“Fine. The old man kicks the bucket in a few days. So which is it going to be? Justice of the peace or a minister?”
Stymied, she just stared. “Your callousness aside, regardless of what announcements James makes, I’m still not marrying you like this!”
He tugged off the worn leather gloves he’d been wearing and grabbed the shotgun she hadn’t even noticed leaning against the wall.
“I’ve heard of shotgun weddings,” she said, smiling weakly, “but this is taking it too literally.”
“I’ve got a possum.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“A possum,” he repeated with exaggerated care. “It’s raiding my feed.”
She grimaced. “And you want to shoot it?”
“I don’t want to make it a pet,” he drawled. “Ranching, princess.” He dragged the leather gloves beneath her chin and flicked her hair behind her shoulder. “It’s not fine linens and sidesaddles.”
Fine linens had their place, but she was just as happy sitting in the kitchen with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “I’ve never once sat sidesaddle,” she said with a cool smile. “Some of the Chesterfields are champion riders. I do know what manure smells like.”
“You’ll get even more familiar with it.” He smiled, too, but it was fierce-looking and dangerous. “Along with the stench of branding and the mess of castrating. JP or minister?”
Her smile wilted. Her stomach lurched more alarmingly than ever before and she suddenly knew it wasn’t going to go away so easily this time.
She whirled on her heel and barely made it outside of the barn before she leaned over and vomited right onto the dirt.
Quinn came up beside her.
“This is the most humiliating moment of my life,” she managed miserably. “Please, please just leave me alone.”
He carefully gathered her hair behind her shoulders. “Not a chance in hell, princess.”
Chapter Nine
“There you are!” Jeanne Marie waved her hand from the window of her car and pulled up alongside Quinn’s pickup truck. She got out quickly and strode across the gravel, a wide smile on her face.
Even though Amelia had gotten a few hours of actual sleep after tossing her cookies the night before, her stomach still felt rocky half a day later. She gingerly pushed out of the porch chair where she’d been sitting, soaking up the fresh afternoon air while Tanya, the teenager Quinn paid to clean his house, worked inside, and went down the three steps to greet her aunt. “I’m so sorry about the car.”
“Oh.” Jeanne Marie waved her hand. “These things happen.” Then she laughed. “Well, not exactly these things. Nobody around here has ever had to hide out from the paparazzi before. But it turned out perfectly convenient for me. After church, Deke dropped me off in Vicker’s Corners and was able to go back home rather than waiting around while I browsed the shops for you. Which made him a very happy camper.” She gave Amelia a quick, squeezing hug. “And I’m glad that you didn’t go to church this morning. That woman with the camera was there asking questions about you.” She sniffed. “Not that anyone gave her the time of day.”
“A fine churchlike attitude,” Amelia said wryly, though she was glad the citizens of Horseback Hollow were showing some discretion, even if it was only because of loyalty to her aunt.
Jeanne Marie laughed again. “Now. Shall we discuss this nothing going on between you and Quinn?” She looked over Amelia’s head at the ranch house behind her.
Amelia assumed her aunt didn’t know about the internet photograph or she would have mentioned it. And she was glad for that. “Something is going on. I’m just—” she tugged at the red sundress that she’d pulled on yet again that morning “—not ready to say exactly what that is.”
Her aunt’s eyes narrowed a little, studying her. “At least you don’t look quite like the whipped puppy that you did last week, so I’ll give you a pass for now. Have you spoken with your mother?”
Amelia nodded. She’d called Josephine that morning and told her that the false engagement was over, though not the entire reason why. She wasn’t ready to share her pregnancy with anyone other than Quinn, though she knew she’d need to sooner rather than later. She couldn’t very well wait until she was round as a house. Her mum had been glad to hear about the pretense coming to an end, but Amelia wasn’t so sure how she’d react to having another grandchild. Her brother Oliver had little Ollie already, but at least he’d been born before Oliver and his wife divorced.
Amelia could be married before her baby arrived, too, if she were willing to marry a man who didn’t love her.
“She’s really looking forward to coming for the Cantina’s grand opening,” Amelia told Jeanne Marie. “She hinted that she might be able to stay a few days longer than she expected.”
“That would be marvelous.” Jeanne turned back to her car and opened the back door. She pulled out a plastic shopping bag and handed it to Amelia. “Whatever doesn’t fit can be returned,” she said. “I made sure of that.”
Amelia peeked inside the bag, seeing a couple T-shirts, a skirt and a package of white cotton underpants. “Perfect,” she breathed. “Thank you so much, Aunt Jeanne.” She carried the bag up onto the porch and set it on the wooden rocking chair and her aunt followed.
“Where’s Quinn?”
“Off doing chores,” she said vaguely. She wasn’t entirely sure, because she’d been giving the man a wide berth since he’d insisted she take his bed the night before.
She’d been as wary of instigating another episode that led to torn panties as she was finding herself weakly admitting that she preferred a minister over a justice of the peace.
And her cheeks heated just thinking of panties and a minister in the same thought.
She realized her aunt was watching her thoughtfully, and quickly plucked the receipt for the purchases out of the bag. She drew a couple folded bills to cover the amount out of her sundress pocket and handed them to her aunt.
“All right now,” Jeanne Marie said, tucking the cash in her own pocket. “Can you and Quinn come for dinner later? Christopher and his gal, Kinsley, will be there. You know he’s opening a branch of the Fortune Foundation here.”
Amelia smiled. “I know you’re excited about that, but I suspect it’s mor
e because Christopher’s moving back here from Red Rock.”
“It was hard when he was gone,” Jeanne Marie admitted. “When he left, there was such turmoil between him and Deke. All came to a head because of that darned money James Marshall wanted to give me.” She let out a huge sigh as if she were dismissing all her bad thoughts and smiled again. “The important thing is our boy is coming home. Kinsley will be a beautiful wife for him and he’s happier than he’s ever been. He’s finally found his niche with the Foundation.”
“Tell me again how we’re all connected to it?”
Jeanne Marie leaned against the porch rail, her expression bright. “Chris could tell you far more than I ever could since he works there, but it was founded in memory of Ryan Fortune who was a distant cousin of ours. They have all sorts of community programs and they help fund clinics and—oh, just bunches of good things for people. Having a branch in Horseback Hollow is going to mean so much. It’ll be jobs, it’ll be aid for those who need it—” Her eyes sparkled as she focused on Amelia’s face. “Where was I? Oh, yes. Ryan’s cousin William Fortune—he used to have a business in California—is married now to Lily, who was Ryan’s widow and they’re in Red Rock. I know it sounds scandalous, but it really wasn’t. And then there are the Atlanta Fortunes—John Michael is our oldest brother, then James Marshall and your mama and me.”
Amelia chuckled. “I need a map.”
“I know.” Jeanne Marie laughed merrily. “And they all have grown children and some of them are starting families, and it’s just... Well, I hit the mother lode in family when I grew up with none except my adoptive parents.”
Amelia smiled. It was hard not to let her aunt’s delight infect her as well. “And to answer your question, yes, I’d love to join you all for dinner.” She wasn’t going to speak for Quinn.
Jeanne Marie glanced at her watch and tsked. “Speaking of, I’ve got to get the roasts in the oven or we’ll be stuck eating at the Horseback Hollow Grill. Come by anytime. Food’ll be on around six.” She kissed Amelia’s forehead and went back down the steps, briskly returning to her car.
Fortune's Prince Page 10