Westin's Wyoming. Alice Sharpe

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СКАЧАТЬ his voice and added, “I guess you’re it, buddy.”

      But Toby had already run over to Jamie and put a hand on the mare’s glistening brown neck. “I want to ride this one. Is her name Star? May I, please?”

      Jamie chuckled. “I can take the little fella,” he said. “Come on, son, up you go.”

      “And I will ride with you,” Princess Analise announced, looking Pierce straight in the eye. He smiled at her. Fine by him but her announcement seemed to have galvanized the bodyguard who approached like a belligerent bull.

      The general sputtered. “But, Princess. It is hardly necessary or appropriate for you to ride with this man. Nor is it safe—”

      “Nevertheless, I will ride with him,” she said, and there was a change in the timbre of her voice that stopped the bodyguard dead in his tracks and shut down the general.

      The corner of Pierce’s upper lip lifted. Nice to see the princess square her shoulders and jut her chin. He climbed back in the saddle and, freeing a stirrup for her use, extended a hand and pulled her up behind him, smiling to himself as her hands landed on his waist.

      “You will be cautious,” the general said, gaze darting between Pierce and the princess.

      “Sure,” Pierce said.

      Before he could turn the horse, the general caught the bridle. “Once we have suitable accommodations, you will explain what precautions you’ve taken to protect the princess.”

      There it was—the dead fish in the punch bowl, the issue everyone had been skirting around since they landed. The pushy bodyguard, the flustered general, a princess looking over her shoulder…

      “You know, maybe it’s about time someone tells me exactly what she needs protection from,” Pierce said.

      The general raised gray eyebrows. “From whoever is intent on killing her, of course.”

       Chapter Three

      Analise tightened her grip on Pierce as he turned his head slightly and said, “Someone is trying to kill you?”

      She cringed at the theatrics of the general’s statement though there was more than a grain of truth behind it. “Yes,” she said.

      “No wonder the general looked jumpy when you announced you were leaving him and the bodyguard behind.”

      “The general is a very old and trusted friend of my father’s, but I’m a twenty-six-year-old adult and his hovering gets on my nerves.” She instantly regretted speaking out. The general was the general. He was not the reason she was nervous and not the reason she’d insisted on riding with Pierce.

      The past week had passed in a blur as she did her best to pretend she wasn’t worried about death threats or arriving at this ranch. Twenty-four hours from now, this would be over. Well, at least part of it would.

      She took a few deep breaths of blessedly unrecirculated air and concentrated on the moment. The sway of the horse, the faint smell of the pines. The low growl of the truck rumbling behind them. The solid feel of the man whose back she hugged.

      He did resemble the photo she’d seen of his mother, but in a masculine way. At least six feet tall, broad shoulders, gorgeous slate eyes and strong features, a sensuous mouth. Even through the padding of a winter coat, she could tell he was fit and muscular.

      As for the glint in his eyes and the deep voice? Those were masculine, too. Intimidating, perhaps, but in a way that made her feel protected. He looked competent, more than able to take care of himself and anyone else for that matter.

      These thoughts brought up images of the man she was expected to marry next year, a Chatioux nobleman of some distinction. He and Pierce Westin were both in their mid-thirties, but there all similarities ended.

      She wouldn’t think about Ricard right now. She had the rest of her life to do that.

      “Let’s talk about who’s trying to kill you,” Pierce said, glancing over his shoulder again, the flash of his eyes surprisingly warm. “Is this person the reason you came to the ranch? Are you here for refuge?”

      “No, I made arrangements to come here months ago and this situation is relatively new.”

      “Months ago and Cody never told anyone? That’s pretty amazing.”

      A little flutter in her throat kept her from responding immediately. She’d insisted on riding with him to have the privacy in which to reveal the true nature of her visit. Allowing herself to get sidetracked would squander the opportunity.

      “Princess? You still back there?”

      “I want to explain why I begged you to let us stay—”

      “And I’d like to hear it,” he interrupted. “But first tell me about the would-be assassins just in case your general is right and one is hiding behind those rocks over there with a howitzer. Start with what you were doing in Seattle.”

      She glanced at the rocks, then shook her head. “We were attending an environmental symposium.”

      “And someone tried to do what? Shoot you, shove you in front of a bus?”

      “Nothing so direct. Two days ago I received an anonymous note. It warned that if I valued my life, I would convince my father to vote against the natural-gas pipeline proposed for Chatioux. There was no way to respond, but I could have told the writer that while my father will weigh my opinion, in the end will do what is best for our country. He would never put family over duty.”

      “He sounds like my father,” Pierce said.

      “Are you close to your father?”

      “Not exactly,” Pierce said. “I’ve been back here three days and I think we’ve spent all of ten minutes in each other’s company.”

      “Why? What happened between you?”

      He laughed but the sound held little humor. “Don’t try wiggling out of your story by trying to uncover mine. When does the king vote?”

      “In five days. The parliament is divided so my father’s vote will be the deciding factor.”

      “And how is he leaning?”

      “Construction of the pipeline would bring in much-needed revenue. Our country is in the middle of great flux. There aren’t enough jobs to keep our young people employed and they immigrate elsewhere in alarming numbers. We import too many things and export too few. This weakens us socially as well as economically and that puts our national security at risk. It’s all interconnected and Russia would love to see us crumble.”

      She sighed again. “The bottom line is this pipeline would make the difference between a brighter, safer future and a continuing spiral downward resulting in citizen unrest if not out-and-out war on our borders. If environmental concerns can be met, my father has no choice but to embrace it.”

      “Can these concerns be met?”

      “Yes.”

      “And СКАЧАТЬ