Royal Bastard (Instantly Royal 1)

“What are grouse?”

“Birds.” She flipped through the book to a specific page and then turned it around and held it open so he could see the sketch of a small bird that the tenth earl must have drawn.

It was a good drawing, but he couldn’t take being trapped inside this stuffy house any longer. “And there’s still grouse out there?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go have a look at the grouse survivors’ progeny.” He crossed over and plucked the book from her hand and slid it back on the shelf to the right of the fireplace. “Come on. I’ve been a good boy. Let’s go on a field trip.”

She smoothed back a hair that had had the gall to slip from her ponytail and let out a sigh. “Fine.”

Twenty minutes later, they were bouncing around in the seats of the Range Rover that managed to hit every rut and pothole in the bumpy dirt road winding through the hilly moors. Finally, she pulled off and parked on top of the hill and killed the engine.

“Something, isn’t it?” she asked.

It was. The clear blue sky went on for miles with only a few white cotton ball clouds dotting the view. One direction it was all purple hills, and the other showed more hills bordered by a strip of sandy beach and then the North Sea beyond. It wasn’t the lake view from his back porch outside of Salvation, but it was fucking beautiful just the same.

“How much of this is part of Dallinger?”

“Everything you can see.” She opened the door and got out. “Come on, Mr. Field Trip. Let’s go look at butts.”

He’d never gotten out of a car so fast in his life. But, despite that little tease that had raised his hopes and other things, it turned out that the butts she meant were actually fortified five-foot holes in the ground that hunters would stand in to wait for the grouse that were being pushed out of the underbrush by drivers and dogs. As he and Brooke clomped through the bush-like heather that went almost up to his knees, she explained how a grouse shoot worked.

“So,” he said, looking at her and trying not to be distracted by the way she looked out there in the rare sunshine with the breeze whipping free long lashes of her hair. “There are drivers who start out a mile away and walk through th

e moors rousting the grouse by stomping through the heather and beating it with sticks so the birds fly into the air, and people actually pay to shoot them.”

She nodded, tucking a windblown strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Yes.”

He turned that over in his mind as they approached a butt. She took the three steps down into the trench big enough for two that put them almost at eye level with the ground. Looking out onto the hillside, he tried to imagine a group of drivers and their playful dogs marching through the heather, moving the grouse forward as shooters with rifles took aim at the birds in flight. For a guy who’d gone hunting once—and spent most of that time freezing his balls off in a deer stand in the trees—it was hard to wrap his brain around. At least that’s what he was telling himself to account for his current distracted state that had nothing to do with the gorgeous blonde standing with her face tilted toward the sky, her eyes closed, and a look on her face of total and complete bliss. It had to be how she’d look after a long night of infinite orgasms.

Where in the hell did that thought come from, Vane?

Sure, he had his nighttime fantasies, but that’s all they were. Playing those kind of games with someone dead-set on getting him to do the exact opposite of what he wanted to do wasn’t an option—no matter how much his dick protested, and boy did it ever.

Desperate to pull his thoughts back onto safer ground, he said the first thing that popped into his head that wasn’t X-rated. “And no one thinks grouse shooting like this is weird?”

Brooke tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and looked out onto the moor before answering his question. “Well, there are some who oppose it, but the shoot helps manage the grouse population and it helps employ people in Bowhaven who act as the drivers—something that is desperately needed after the chemical factory shut down. Those pounds have helped people put food in their kids’ bellies. Plus, the grouse are sold to local restaurants. There’s an entire much-needed economic life cycle out here on the moors.”

Dragging his gaze away from her, Nick took in the view and spotted what had to be the top of the now-closed chemical factory a ways off. Other than that, the only thing he could see was the village of Bowhaven tucked into the side of a hill, more purple heather and the sea. She’d spent the past forty-eight hours telling him about the area and the Vanes, but it hadn’t really sunk in until now. This situation wasn’t a game for her, the earl, or the people of Bowhaven. It wasn’t just a chance for him to tell the earl to fuck off. That sucked. It didn’t change his mind about leaving, but maybe there was something he could put in place, some plan to change things before he did hit the road.

“There doesn’t seem to be many opportunities out here.” Fishing for ideas? Him? Hey, whenever working a problem, the smart move was always to go to those closest first.

“There will be.” The blissed-out look on her face was gone by the time she leveled a tart glare at him. “I’ve been talking to the earl and the village council about all the things they could do to draw in money.”

There was no missing the defensiveness in her tone.

“And are they listening?” His money was on no.

Her lips twisted as she straightened her shoulders and headed toward the steps leading out of the butt. “They will—especially once I’m voted onto the village council.”

There it was, that spark of something he couldn’t figure out that tugged at his curiosity and made him want to know more. “Why are you here in Bowhaven?”

The question stopped her in her tracks, one foot on the bottom step, and she turned back to look at him. “It’s my home.”

“But you don’t have to stay here,” he pushed. “You could go to Manchester or London.”

Her jaw stiffened. “This is my home.”