Prince Charming

Summers took his seat behind the desk. He turned in his chair to look at his client.

“My dear, you’re going to have to sign a few papers in order to gain access to your funds.”

She turned around. “What happens if I refuse to sign?”

Summers thought she was jesting with him. The notion that anyone would deliberately turn down any amount of money made him smile.

“It wouldn’t matter if you signed or not,” he said. “It’s really just a formality for the bank’s records. The money will stay in trust, earning you a handsome figure in interest if you decide not to spend any of it now.”

“Please give me the particulars again. How exactly is the money divided?” she asked.

“Two-thirds of the estate goes to charities, as I explained earlier,” Summers said.

She impatiently brushed her hair back. “Yes, yes, the charities. I knew about the charities, but Uncle Malcolm . . . You said he doesn’t get the rest. I don’t understand. Are you telling me Madam didn’t leave her son anything?”

“Let’s take this a step at a time,” Sherman suggested. He could tell Taylor was extremely anxious and was trying to calm her down by being methodical.

“The third left after donations to her charities still amounts to a sizable sum, my dear. Your great-uncle Andrew will receive a nice allowance and title to the estate in Scotland. The rest is split between you and the children.”

Taylor closed her eyes. “Was Madam specific or did she simply say children,” she asked.

“She was quite specific. Georganna and Alexandra Henson each receive one-third.” Summers turned to Lucas. “The twin girls are Lady Esther’s great-granddaughters.”

“Has the will been read in London yet?” Taylor asked.

“The reading is scheduled for Tuesday,” Summers answered.

“Tomorrow,” Sherman said at the same time.

“Didn’t Madam leave anything to her son and his family?” Taylor asked.

“Yes,” Summers replied. “But it’s barely a pittance.”

“Not quite so,” Sherman argued. “Malcolm will receive a small monthly stipend. It isn’t much, but if he adopts a frugal lifestyle, he should get along all right. Lady Esther left Malcolm’s wife exactly one hundred pounds. She said it was the amount of weight her daughter-in-law had put on since she married her son. Madam did have a rather twisted sense of humor,” he added. He turned to Lucas to once again explain. “Lady Esther didn’t much care for Loreen. Said she was a complainer.”

“What about Jane?” Taylor asked. “Did Madam leave her anything?”

“She gets the same amount as her mother,” Sherman answered. “Exactly one hundred pounds and not a shilling more.”

Taylor shook her head. She was filled with dread for the future. “When Malcolm finds out what his mother has done, his roar will cross the ocean. He’ll be outraged.”

Sherman, who knew Malcolm better than Summers did, nodded agreement. “He’ll try to cause trouble, all right. I warned your grandmother, but she wouldn’t listen to reason. She told her legal advisers to make certain the will was airtight.”

“What about Malcolm’s lands?” Taylor asked.

“As you probably know, he had already mortgaged the property. Your grandmother assigned enough money to pay off all of her son’s considerable debts. The total is just above fifty thousand pounds.”

Lucas seemed to be the only one in the office astonished by the figure. How could any man owe others so much? What had he purchased on credit?

Taylor inadvertently answered his question. “He won’t quit gambling,” she predicted.

“Your grandmother was well aware of his vice. She decided to give him one last fresh start. If he chooses to run his credit up again, he’ll have to find another method to repay. His mother’s estate won’t bail him out.”

“Oh, he’ll find another way,” Taylor whispered. “Uncle can be very creative.”

“Now, now, don’t borrow trouble,” Summers advised.

Taylor’s shoulders slumped. “I know what you’re thinking, my dear,” said Sherman. “He won’t last a month without trying to beg or borrow from you.” He turned to Summers then to give further explanation. “Malcolm’s a man of excesses. He won’t take this sitting down.”

“He’ll come after me.”

She looked at Lucas when she made the statement. He appeared to be half asleep. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his hands rested on the side arms, and his eyes were half closed.

“It won’t matter,” Summers insisted. “Even if you wanted to give him some of the inheritance, you can’t. Your grandmother was very specific. What you don’t spend will stay in trust for your children.”

“And if I die?” Taylor asked.

Lucas took exception to the question. “You aren’t going to die.”

“But if I did?” She directed her question to Harry Sherman.

“Malcolm still won’t get the money. Your husband is the only one who stands to gain.” He paused to smile. “From the emphatic way he just spoke to you, I can only surmise he’ll do whatever it takes to make certain you live a long, healthy life. Stop this talk about dying, Taylor. Malcolm can’t hurt you. You don’t have to be afraid of him any longer. I, too, remember what you were like as a little girl. You were certainly frightened of your uncle. But you’re all grown up now and married. Put your childhood fears to rest. England, remember, is an ocean away.”

“Yes, you’re right.” She feigned a smile so he’d believe he’d swayed her with his argument to let go of her worry.

They finally got down to the business at hand. Taylor signed the necessary papers, and when the forms had been witnessed and executed, she opened two accounts. One was a joint account in her name and Mr. Ross’s, which required both their signatures, and the other account was in Victoria’s name.

Mr. Sherman agreed to bring the necessary papers over to the hotel at four o’clock to meet with Victoria and gain her signature. “You’ve been extremely generous with your friend,” he remarked as Taylor was getting ready to leave. She was in the midst of putting her gloves on. Lucas held her coast.

“Madam would approve,” she replied.

A few minutes later they were on their way back to their hotel. Taylor wanted to walk. Lucas told her he didn’t have time. He wouldn’t let her stroll down the street by herself either but insisted she ride with him back to the hotel. He hailed a vehicle, assisted her inside, and then took the seat across from her.

He didn’t ease into the topic he wanted to discuss. “Why are you afraid of your uncle?”

She didn’t soften her answer. “He’s a snake.”

“And?”

“I hate snakes.”

He smiled in spite of his frustration. The woman had a way with words and an even better way of avoiding direct answers. She would make him crazy if he stayed around long enough to let her.

“When are you leaving Boston?”

He wasn’t going anywhere until he was certain she was going to be all right. God only knew when that would be. He was anxious to get going, yet the thought of leaving her made his stomach turn. The truth was staring him in the eyes. He didn’t want to go anywhere without her.

He immediately tried to block the notion. He wasn’t ready to accept what part of him was insisting was inevitable. He blanched inside and might have even shuddered. No, he wasn’t ready to think about anything remotely permanent.

And yet the truth persisted.

Taylor wasn’t certain what had come over her husband. He was giving her that mean I’d-rather-behanged-than-married-to-you look she was really starting to dislike intensely, and she didn’t think she would have been surprised if he’d started growling like a bear.

Her mind took a leap from that thought to another. “Are there any bears in Montana Territory?”

Where had that question come from? “Yes.”

“I thought there were, but I wanted to be certain. W

hat kind is most prevalent?”

“The black,” he answered. “And the brown, I suppose.”

“What about the grizzly?”

“Those too.”

“They’re terribly clever.”

“Is that so?”

Taylor nodded. “They’re known to hunt the hunter. They circle back on their stalker. They’re mean spirited, too. Daniel Boone killed a good dozen before he was ten years old.”

Lord, she was naive. “Is that so?”

“Every time you say, Is that so? you’re really saying you don’t believe a word I’m telling you. Isn’t that right, Mr. Ross?”

He didn’t bother to answer her. The vehicle stopped in front of the hotel. Lucas helped her out, paid the fare, then grabbed hold of her hand and dragged her through the lobby.

“I’m perfectly capable of getting to our room on my own, Mr. Ross. Do let go of me.”

“You draw a crowd wherever you go,” he countered, continuing to pull her along.

She snorted. “You’re the popular one, not me.”

He was taking the steps two at a time. Taylor was out of breath by the time they reached their floor. “Do people call you by any special name?”

“Lucas,” he interrupted. “My friends call me Lucas. And so does my wife. Got that?”

They reached the door to their room. He was digging in his pocket for his key. Taylor collapsed against the wall. If she’d had a fan handy, she would have used it. She hadn’t had to run like that for ages.

“It would be greatly disrespectful of me to call you Lucas, but if you insist . . .”

“Why?”

He’d just put the key in the lock but stopped and turned to look at her. He only then realized she was out of breath. He couldn’t help but smile. A wisp of hair had fallen out of her prim bun and now curled in front of her ear. She looked utterly feminine. And thoroughly kissable.

They stood just inches away from each other. Taylor couldn’t seem to take her gaze off her husband. He had the most adorable smile. His eyes seemed to turn a warm, golden brown. A lesser woman would have melted under his close scrutiny, but she was made of stronger stuff. She let out a long sigh.

“Aren’t you going to answer me?” he asked.

She couldn’t remember the question. He was forced to repeat it. “Wives in the wilderness call their husbands mister whatever as a way of lifting their status. The hired hands are called by their first names. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

He didn’t look like he believed her. His question confirmed that guess.

“Says who?”

“Mrs. Livingston,” she answered. “It was in her journal.”

“I should have guessed.”

“And while we’re on the subject of what is considered proper and what isn’t, I would like to point out that the majority of men, married and single, never, ever curse in front of a woman. It’s considered bad form, Mr. Ross, and very disrespectful.”

“Is that so?”

She was beginning to hate that expression. “Yes, it is so.”

He opened the door for her, but just as she started to go inside, he grabbed hold of her shoulders and turned her around.

His head was bent toward her. “Let me get this straight. When you call me Mr. Ross, you’re actually being respectful and not trying to infuriate me? Is that right?”

She nodded. He smiled. He didn’t let go of her. For a man in a hurry, he was suddenly acting as though he had all the time in the world. Taylor really wished she could stop herself from staring at him. Was it her imagination or had his skin become even more bronzed in the last twenty-four hours? She wondered if he had any idea how handsome he was.

“I’ll probably be late.”

His right hand moved to the side of her neck. His fingers brushed the strand of hair back behind her ear. A shiver passed down her arms. She had to force herself not to lean into his hand. She couldn’t stop staring into his eyes.

He was staring at her mouth. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“I’ll probably spend the evening in Victoria’s room,” she said. It was a lie, of course, but since she wasn’t certain how long it would take to reach Mrs. Bartlesmith’s residence or how long she would spend getting acquainted with her nieces, she decided to play it safe. She didn’t want Lucas looking for her. “Victoria has quite a few things she wants to discuss,” she said. “I could be there until midnight, maybe even later.”

He barely paid attention to what she was saying. He wanted to kiss her. He was patiently waiting for her to finish talking so he could.

She took a breath and he leaned down. The thought that he might kiss her had only just registered in her mind when she leaned into him and tilted her head back. His mouth was just an inch away.

A door slammed somewhere down the corridor. A man’s laughter sounded in the next instant. Then a woman’s. The spell Lucas Ross had cast upon her lifted, and she suddenly realized where she was and what she was doing. She was immediately horrified by her unladylike behavior.

She acted as though she’d just been caught stealing. She literally pushed herself away from him, bumped into the wall behind her, then turned and hurried inside. She called good-bye over her shoulder and swung the door shut.

Lucas couldn’t believe what had just happened. Damned if she hadn’t just slammed the door in his face. And what in thunder caused her to blush?

“Women,” he muttered to himself. Most didn’t make a lick of sense. He shook his head and started down the hallway. He stopped when he reached the steps.

Taylor had just collapsed in one of the chairs and let out a loud sigh when a knock sounded at the door. She assumed it was Victoria. She stood up, straightened her skirt, and then hurried across the room. She forced a smile so her friend wouldn’t know she was in such an irritable mood and all because she hadn’t been kissed and then opened the door.

Lucas filled up the entrance. He was leaning against the door frame, one foot crossed over the other, with his arms folded across his chest, as though he’d been lounging there a long, long time. He was frowning intently.

“Did you forget something, Mr. Ross?”

“Yeah,” he drawled. Then he moved. It happened so quickly, she didn’t even have time to gasp. He reached out, grabbed hold of the back of her neck with his right hand, and hauled her up against him. His fingers threaded through her hair, the pins holding it up flying every which way. The heavy mass of curls cascaded down her back, covering his arm. His fingers gently pressed against her scalp. He lowered his face until his mouth was directly above hers.

“I forgot to kiss you.”

“Oh.”

She whispered the word into his opened mouth. It sounded like a groan. His mouth settled on top of hers with blatant ownership, effectively sealing off any other sound she might have made. He kissed her ravenously. Taylor grabbed hold of his jacket so she wouldn’t fall down. And when his tongue swept inside her mouth and rubbed so erotically against hers, she felt as though she were dissolving in his arms. Her knees went weak and her heart started pounding a wild beat. She felt hot and yet was shivering at the same time. Her arms found their way around his waist. She held onto Lucas and let him sweep her off her feet. She didn’t even try to control her own passionate response. She wouldn’t let him stop. She wanted another hot, opened-mouth, tongue-dueling kiss, and Lucas, shaken by her uninhibited reaction to his touch, didn’t deny her. They were both just as hungry for each other. She made it impossible for him to hold back. His mouth slanted over hers again and again, and each time the kiss was longer, more sinfully erotic. He was hard and hot. And still he wanted more. His hands moved down her spine, rubbing, caressing. He cupped her sweet backside and lifted her up on her tiptoes until they were intimately rubbing against each other. She instinctively cuddled his arousal between her hips. She moved restlessly against him.

She was making him burn with desire. He knew he had to stop. He’d take her in the corridor if he didn’t f

ind a little discipline to pull away from her. God, she was good. He was fast losing all control, and damn but she felt right pressed up against him. She was all soft and feminine, and Lord above, could she kiss.

He was abrupt in his departure. He jerked back, then began to peel her hands off him. He knew he had to put some distance between them with all possible haste, but he made the mistake of looking at her, and when he saw the passion in her eyes, he almost lost the battle. Her lips were rosy and swollen from his none too gentle attack, and all he could think about was tasting her one more time.

Lucas clinched his jaw in frustration. She had the most bemused expression on her face. He found himself arrogantly pleased. She’d obviously been just as affected by their kisses as he’d been. He would have told her to move back so he could pull the door closed when he left, but he didn’t think she’d move quick enough to suit him . . . or save her virginity.

She couldn’t possibly know how close he was to carrying her to their bed and making love to her. Taylor was simply too naive and inexperienced to understand her own jeopardy. He understood all right. He was hard and throbbing and aching, and damn it all, if she didn’t quit looking at him with those beautiful blue eyes, he knew exactly what was going to happen.

He had to get the hell away from her. With that single thought in mind, he grabbed hold of her shoulders, forced her to move back, then turned around, took hold of the doorknob, and pulled it shut behind him.

She was left staring at the door. “Oh, my,” she whispered. She suddenly needed to sit down. She needed a fan, too. It had gotten warm all of a sudden.

Taylor started to cross the room to get to the nearest chair so she could collapse properly when another knock sounded at the door.

Lord, she wasn’t up to another round of kissing. Yet she found she was running to the door to answer the summons.