âAre you always a pest or do I just bring out the worst in you?â
Donovan only laughed. âMe? A pest? You must be joking. Everyone knows Iâm a sweetheart.â
âUh-huh,â she said dryly. âAnd Iâm Snow White.â
âNo, youâre Sleeping Beauty. And you know what happened to her.â
Confused, she frowned. âThe wicked witch got her?â
âNo. The prince kissed her until she woke up.â
âOh, no!â she said. âDonât even think about going there, mister. Youâre no Prince Charming.â The second the words were out of her mouth, she knew that sheâd made a mistake. He wasnât the kind of man who ignored a challenge.
âToo late,â he chuckled, and reached for her. A heartbeat later, she was in his arms.
Moving gingerly, the incision from her surgery twinging in protest, Priscilla Wyatt stepped through the front door of her London flat and found herself blinking back tears. Over the course of the last week and a half, while she was in the hospital recovering from injuries incurred in a car accident and the emergency surgery that had saved her life, sheâd begun to wonder if she was ever going to sleep in her own bed again. When her doctor had finally told her she was being released, she hadnât known whether she wanted to laugh or cry.
Watching her as the last of her strength gave out and she sank down onto the couch, her brother, Buck, frowned in concern. âI donât know what the doctor was thinking, releasing you so soon after your surgery. Look at you. Youâre as weak as a kitten.â
âI just need to rest for a few minutes, and Iâll be fine.â
âYeah, right,â he retorted, scowling. âIn case youâve forgotten, you had a hell of an accident. You could have been killedââ
Hovering at the door, his wife, Rainey, frowned warningly. âSheâs aware of that, Buck. You donât have to keep reminding her.â
âApparently, I do,â he growled. âSheâd still be in the hospital if she hadnât pressured the doctor to release her.â
âI can recover better here,â Priscilla replied. âNo one gets any rest in the hospital. You know that.â
âWhat I know is that you had major surgery. You lost your spleen, dammit. This is serious, Cilla. Youâve got no business being here by yourself.â
âWhy donât you come home with me and Buck?â Rainey suggested. âLet us take care of you.â
âOh, no!â she said quickly. âThe ranch isnât home. This is. London is.â
Buck could understand her feelings. When Hilda Wyatt, a distant American relative from the States, had left the Broken Arrow Ranch in Colorado to him and his sisters, the place had felt nothing like home even though it had been in the Wyatt family for nearly a hundred fifty years. That was before the ranch came under attack, however. The first time he picked up a gun to defend the Broken Arrow, the land of his ancestors became his.
Not that he and his sisters could claim it outright just yet, he reminded himself. Hilda had wanted the ranch to go to the last of the Wyatts, but sheâd still left it to them with strings. One of them had to be at the ranch at all times for the period of one year. If there was no Wyatt at the ranch for two nights in a row during that year, they lost the Broken Arrow and it went to an unnamed heir. No one, however, knew who the unnamed heir was. His or her name was in a sealed envelope that would only be opened in the event that the English branch of the Wyatts was disqualified.
And it was that clause in the will that had caused countless problems for him and his sisters, Buck thought in disgust. Once the terms of the will became common knowledge, everyone in Willow Bend seemed to think they were the unnamed heir and all they had to do to inherit the ranch was drive Buck and his sisters away.
The attacks began almost immediately and had been going on for months, always coming from a different direction. And they hadnât stopped at the property lines of the ranchâ¦which was why he and Rainey were in London.