Fortune's Prince
Once upon a time…There was a beautiful princess, raised in riches but lonely of heart. When Amelia Fortune Chesterfield discovered her Texas roots, she hurried to Horseback Hollow, eager to find her past. And there she found her future….The prince wore spurs and a Stetson and was unlike any man she had ever known. In one magical night, Quinn Drummond transformed the shy, reserved girl into a passionate, feeling woman. But in the morning, the princess had to flee, tearing asunder their happily ever after. The prince, in his anger, retreated. Would a small miracle reunite the gun-shy cowboy with his lady love? Don't miss the heartwarming conclusion of The Fortunes of Texas: Welcome to Horseback Hollow!
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MEET THE FORTUNES!
Fortune of the Month:
Amelia Fortune Chesterfield
Age: 23
Vital Statistics: Doelike eyes, ivory complexion. As fragile as a china dollâand in the family way.
Claim to Fame: Did we mention that sheâs English royalty?
Romantic Prospects: Many men have pursued her for her title, but will anybody love her for just herself?
âMy whole life Iâve been a good girl, following the rules, being a proper princess. But everything changed when I met Quinn in Horseback Hollow. He made me realize what was really important. In his strong cowboy arms I finally felt safe. I never should have gone back to London. Everything went so wrong so fast! Now Quinn is acting like he hates me. How can I possibly tell him Iâm carrying his child?â
* * *
The Fortunes of Texas:
Welcome to Horseback Hollow!
There is a saying that you can never be too rich or too thin. ALLISON LEIGH doesnât believe that, but she does believe that you can never have enough books! When her stories find a way into the heartsâand bookshelvesâof others, Allison says she feels sheâs done something right. Making her home in Arizona with her husband, she enjoys hearing from her readers at [email protected] or PO Box 40772, Mesa, AZ 85274-0772, USA.
For all the Fortune Women.
As always, it is an honor to be among you.
Contents
Chapter One
He stopped cold when he heard a faint rustle. The only light there was came from the moonlight sneaking through the barn door that heâd left open behind him.
Standing stock-still, Quinn Drummond listened intently, his eyes searching the black shadows around him. Heâd built the barn. He knew it like the back of his hand. He knew the sounds that belonged, and the ones that didnât. Animal or human, it didnât matter. He knew.
He reached out his right hand, unerringly grabbing onto a long wooden handle. Heâd prefer his shotgun, but it was up in the house. So the pitchfork would have to do.
This wasnât some damn possum rooting around.
This was someone. Someone hiding out in his barn.
He knew everyone who lived in his Texas hometown. Horseback Hollow was the polar opposite of a metropolis. If someone there wanted something, theyâd have come to his face, not skulk around in the middle of the night inside his barn.
His hand tightened around the sturdy handle. His focus followed the rustling sound and he took a silent step closer to it. âCome on out now, because if you donât, I promise you wonât like whatâs gonna happen.â
The faint rustle became a scuffling sound, then the darkness in front of him gathered into a small form.
His wariness drained away. His tight grip relaxed. Just a kid.
He made a face and set aside the pitchfork. âWhatâd you do? Run away from home?â Heâd tried that once, when he was seven. Hadnât gotten far. His dad had hauled him home and would have tanned his butt if his mother hadnât stepped in. âNever works, kid,â he advised. âWhatever you think youâre running from will always follow.â
The form shuffled closer; small, booted feet sliding into the faint moonlight, barely visible below the too-long hem of baggy pants. âThatâs what Iâm afraid of,â the shadow said.
Forget wariness. The voice didnât belong to a child. It was feminine. Very British. And so damn familiar his guts twisted and his nerves frizzed like they wanted to bust out of his skin. A runaway would have been preferable to this. To her.
Amelia.
Her name blasted through his head, but he didnât say a word and after a moment, she took another hesitant step closer. Moonlight crept from the dark boots up baggy pants, an untucked, oversize shirt that dwarfed her delicate figure, until finally, finally, illuminating the long neck, the pointed chin.
The first time that heâd seen her had been six months ago on New Yearâs Eve, at a wedding for one of her newly discovered cousins, right there in Horseback Hollow. Her long dark hair had been twisted into a knot, reminding him vaguely of the dancers at the ballet that his mom had once dragged him and his sister to. The second time that heâd seen her months later at the end of April, had been at another wedding. Another cousin. And her hair had been tied up then, too.
But that second time, after dreaming about her since New Yearâs, Quinn hadnât just watched Amelia from a distance.
No.
Heâd approached her. And through some miracle of fateâor so heâd thought at the timeâlater that night, heâd taken the pins from her hair and it had spilled down past her shoulders, gleaming and silky against her ivory skin.
He blocked off the memory. Heâd had enough practice at it over the past two months that it should have been easy.
It wasnât. It was the very reason he was prowling restlessly around in the middle of the night at all when he should have been sleeping.
