2

Prince Anders made my heart sing and my hands shake when he held out my chair at suppertime. Like a real knight in shining armor. I mean Brodie. We were eating in the kitchen for once. Not the gigantic dining room table sized for Buckingham Palace.

“I’ve always wanted to meet a real cowgirl,” Brodie said softly, taking the chair on my right after he slid me in. My heart shouted. And my nerves eased a little. Not only was I left-handed and we wouldn’t bang elbows, but Gram-Elaine hadn’t placed him across from me to get stared at while I gnawed and chewed. And spilled. “We have no such women in Dornfeld. We have mostly sheep.”

So he knew I knew who he really was. His mention of Dornfeld had been deliberate. I glanced sideways at him, gorgeous in a creamy sweater that made his champagne-colored eyes seem dark.

“I guess I’m more of a wrangler,” I said, inane. “I work more with horses than cattle.”

Gram-Elaine lugged a huge tray of lasagna to the center of the table, and Grampa-Doyle all but licked his lips. The scent was magnificent, but real terror chugged through my veins. Lasagna. Spillage of bright red sauce in front of a real prince was a real threat. Why had I worn my lovely white holiday sweater sprinkled with pearly snowflakes?

Well, because it was my lovely white holiday sweater sprinkled with pearly snowflakes, and they matched my earrings, is why.

Gram-Elaine smashed her frame into a kitchen chair, but somehow delicately. “Brodie, would you do the honors and say grace?”

“What?” His chivalry seemed to vanish. “Beg pardon, what?”

With a surge of confidence more than compassion, I helped him out. “The blessing. The table prayer.” My voice didn’t even shake.

“Oh, yeah.” His eyes widened as though he’d been asked for the nuclear codes. “Sure. Our governess used to pray one with us. Let me see what I remember…” He closed his wonderful eyes for a long moment while the rest of us grabbed hands around the table. I took his, held back a sacrilegious gasp, felt his warmth cover my fingers. He mumbled in another language.

His cheekbones colored themselves into a handsome burgundy. “I don’t know if I remembered it the right way. It’s been so long. But in English, it means eating and drinking in Jesus’s name and giving God the honor for our gain.”

I did wonder why he couldn’t remember a childhood prayer. Or why he didn’t know a grown-up grace. Maybe saying a blessing wasn’t a thing back at the palace, and he truly had forgotten. Sadness rustled through me. Faith was as much a part of Hearts Crossing as food.

“It’s a lovely prayer,” Gram-Elaine murmured, not at all perturbed. We all squeezed hands and said Amen. “So that is your native tongue?”

He nodded. “Yes, Dornish, which is closely related to Danish.”

Gram-Elaine heaved a big knife through the lasagna, cutting perfect pieces. “So you are near Denmark then? Geography in school was not my best subject. Since then, I’ve barely left Colorado.”

With great elegance, Brodie dug out a big piece of lasagna with a spatula and smiled at her. “This looks and smells delicious.”

Gram-Elaine beamed.

“Thank you.” Then she pretended to act shy, lowering her chin and eyelids. But I knew better. Her confidence rivaled any queen’s. “It’s long been a family favorite. And I don’t make it for just anybody. So, go on,” she ordered.

Brodie grinned. “Don’t expect a thrill a minute,” he warned. Shrugged. “Dornfeld is an island in the North Sea. Past the Faroe Islands and closer to Iceland, but has maintained close ties to Denmark. Danish is our second official language.”

“What’s the story there?” Grampa-Doyle’s interest was real. Unlike Gram-Elaine, he was well-travelled.

Brodie laid a black-checkered napkin over his knees. “Dornfeld had been a Danish colony since Viking raiders settled there in the 900’s. They named it ‘field of thorns.’ In the 1500’s, a Danish soldier was rewarded the island for his loyalty to the king. And elevated to high nobility. But rather than appreciate his sudden status, Amaker moved to Dornfeld and declared himself king instead of count. And the rest as they say, is history.”

“Was Denmark mad?” I asked.

Gold and brown hair swished together as Brodie shook his head. “No. Not worried either. Amaker was loyal. And Dornfeld is a good position for defense and shipping. Maintaining a friendly relationship was and is important.”

“How thrilling. And your ancestors were a part of it all.” Gram-Elaine handed Brodie a mountain of green salad in a wooden bowl. “I always liked my family history, settling this ranch almost two hundred years ago, but you beat all. We are fortunate to get to know you.”

I couldn’t find my tongue to agree with Gram. Brodie had just hammered it all home harder—he could have been a mere count. But thanks to Amaker and his ambitions, he was the son of a king. He handed the wooden bowl to me.

My fingers trembled, and I dumped more dressing on my portion of salad than I needed. Nate watched me so carefully I wanted to scratch out his eyes. I might think Brodie was handsome and I might, well, crush on him, but fact was this. I was barely twenty years old and not in any mood to end up with anybody just yet. It was just being fifteen inches from a prince that got my heart beating up my ribs. Unsettling for anybody.

“What do you eat in Dornfeld,” I asked for lack of anything else. Since we were actually eating, it didn’t seem that ridiculous of conversation piece.

Nate rolled his eyes, and Brodie laughed. “Fish, and more fish. Herring, cod. Mackerel. And yoghurt similar to Icelandic skyr. Rye bread. Greenhouse herbs and vegetables. A lot of cheese similar to Danish danbo. And definitely nothing like this.”

We all laughed, and everybody but me dug into the food on our plates. My white sweater screamed out warnings. Then Nate grunted across from Brodie as though he meant to tease me in some way. Six years older but the sixth-grade part of him never stopped.

So I spoke up first. “Well, I like fish. Especially fresh-caught trout. And I’m no cowgirl, but I know horses and ride pretty well.”

Brodie nodded in approval.

“But, but mostly,” I said, “I’ve worked with horses at the rescue we run a few miles from here.”

Right now, I didn’t feel the need to explain that my horseback riding origins had to do with equine therapy years ago to help my damaged spine. Once, I’d been one of the kids enrolled in Hearts Crossing’s well-known hippotherapy program. These days, I can hold my own on horseback, but even more, I love helping beautiful rescued horses that have been abused and abandoned. That have special needs, like me, and need tender loving care.

“Nate’s mentioned the Red Hill Rescue.” Brodie blinked eyes that were outlined in gorgeous black lashes. “I’d like to see the place.”

Because my mouth seemed very far away, I carefully held a dangerous forkful close to my plate. “It’s not a bad drive. If the weather holds, maybe Nate can take you.”

“Or you can.” My brother took a big bite of lasagna but managed to talk without seeming as if his mouth were messy and full. “I’m only here for the weekend. I fly back to the office on Monday.” Nate was executive project manager for our dad’s successful real estate development empire back in L.A. Since our move to Colorado, Dad did everything remotely and Nate, now with his MBA in urban planning, did the footwork.

I was both delighted and shocked. “You’re leaving Brodie alone here?”

Nate shrugged. “Dad just texted. I gotta go.”

Brodie laughed out loud, both manly and elegant. The same way he ate. “I’m going to be fine. Not my first rodeo meeting people and making new friends.”

I loved his western lingo. His lips speaking it. Gram-Elaine winked at Brodie but looked over at Nate.

My brother yammered on. “I’ll be back for Christmas, Adds, Grams. No worries. And y’all know that nobody is ever alone at Hearts Crossing.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. Except for tonight. I think I mentioned that Gram-Elaine had eight kids, and each has a spouse and offspring. All the families live on or close to the ranch, in cabins or cottages or nearby condos. And to add to the fun, Gram-Elaine had married another successful rancher a few years back. Grampa-Doyle Calhoun. He came with a mega-family and an historic spread of his own, so they split time between their ranches and alternated Christmas and Thanksgiving. We’d all gone to the High Noon for turkey day. For Christmas, Grampa-Doyle’s horde of kinfolk was arriving any second. Right now, he faced Gram-Elaine across the table with eyes aglow. He was a real sweetheart. Their second chance at love was obvious and real.

All of that reminded me, and I reckoned Brodie deserved a warning since he was so top-secret. I looked at him. “We have about ten thousand relatives. A quiet meal like this is unusual. Gram-Elaine’s cooking is legendary. I have no idea where they are tonight. Our folks are at a Christmas party, and our little brothers are caroling at the retirement home with the Sunday school. So I’m sure a few of the herd are chaperoning that. Where is everybody else?”

Brodie moved a bit in his chair, and our hands accidentally met reaching for the fresh-baked bread Gram-Elaine had spent the afternoon beating up. My flesh heated.

Grampa-Doyle shrugged. “Holidays are busy times, darlin’, and it’s Friday night to begin with. Parties, shopping. Ranch hands always go to town. Big basketball game at the high school tonight.” He peered at Brodie over his half-glasses. “The kids’ Uncle Kenn is assistant coach.”

Gram-Elaine nodded at Brodie. “And their aunt Kelley is catering a party in Promise. The very party your parents are at, kids. Their cousin Elli’s got Nutcracker rehearsal at the community center.”

Nate chortled at Brodie. “And there’s about a thousand more.”

With true love, Grampa-Doyle touched Gram-Elaine’s hand. “My beautiful bride here says she’s fixing up a big Sunday brunch right here after church. Brodie can meet everybody then.”

Now I felt Brodie stiffen. Just what he needed, facing a swarm of interested if not nosy folks. But at least he could hide out in the bunkhouse.

And it wasn’t his first rodeo anyway.

“I look forward to meeting them,” he said as if he meant it.

To protect my lovely sweater, I mostly chewed on lettuce and sliced my lasagna into small pieces across my plate. However, I reckoned a slice of the warm white bread couldn’t do too much damage. Of course, there was homemade blackberry jam, too, but I didn’t want to push my luck. Over the sounds of chewing and cutlery, I felt the need to speak the first thought in my head.

“Brodie, your English is perfect. You don’t have an accent at all.”

He grinned at me and my heart stopped for about three seconds. “Thank you. I do try. But actually, Dornfelders learn English in infancy along with Dornish and traditional Danish. So I’ve been fluent in three languages since I could talk.”

“Wow.” I held off a tremble. I’d barely passed Spanish, my almost second language. I rushed on. “I hope Nate told you I promised to keep your secret.”

Brodie’s smile warmed me through. “He did, but I don’t mind the truth much. I just want to keep the press away from this beautiful place. They’re a bunch of snoops.”

“Don’t we know.” Grampa-Doyle nodded, and his grey curls moved enough to show off his little bald spot. “I had my own reality TV show about ranching for a few years. It was pretty popular. Made privacy hard to find.”

“The Last Real Rancher.” Brodie beamed over a sip of ice water. “I know it well, and it was really successful. Anything about the American West is popular in Dornfeld.”

At the same time, Brodie and I turned to each other and my heart hitched. “Really?” I managed. “With your spare, elegant furniture, and sleek architecture? We’re so—rustic.” I’d spent the afternoon cyber-stalking his homeland, so I didn’t sound too lame in conversation. Apparently, however, I was wrong.

“Nothing in Dornfeld is fancy. We have little timber, so our furniture is imported from other Scandinavian countries. Grass covers many roofs, many homesteads are made from stone, hundreds of years old. We also have horses—Icelandic horses—and a few cattle. Fishing, and plenty of sheep.” He beamed at me, boiling my cheeks. “But our capitol city, Valdomar, is both historic and modern, and we enjoy some healthy tourism.”

“Sounds just wonderful,” Gram-Elaine announced with a huge smile. “Reminds me to get some travel and exploration done before I’m too old to leave my armchair.”

We all chuckled. Nothing would keep down Gram-Elaine even if she lived past one hundred. Then she scowled at my plate. “What’s wrong with my lasagna, girl? You’re not on one of those foolish diets again, are you? You’re beautiful as you are.”

Brodie grinned with another glance at me. “I have to agree with your grandmother.”

Nate grunted as my face scalded again. I wasn’t a great beauty, but I wasn’t a mongrel, either.

“You’ve missed out on a great treat, Addie,” Brodie said.

He’d ruined the moment. Now I’d have to defend myself instead of wallow in his compliment. Besides which, I felt mega-dumb. “Uh, I filled up too much on the bread. It’s so scrumptious.”

“If you’re done eating, why don’t you start clearing the table?” Nate smirked. “And let the grown-ups chat over dessert.”

I loved Nate but loathed when he treated me like the kid sister I no longer was. “You do it. You’re not my mom.” I pouted back. I did know that Brodie—Prince Anders—had one sister, and I wondered if they ever behaved like Nate and I did. Or whether governesses and protocols had prevented any sort of family life. After all, here he was, hiding in Colorado at the most wonderful time of the year while his parents traveled on business. What kind of business kept a happy family from enjoying Christmas together at the palace? I hoped their travels dealt with some of the many humanitarian causes they were known for.

What was up? Maybe they weren’t a happy family…

Nate got up and laughed normally, blew me a kiss. “Just kidding, sis. I will do it. Now, you and Brodie go enjoy the fire.”

“Let me help.” Brodie said, polite.

“No, bro, I got it. Adds, you’ll need to keep Brodie company while I’m gone, anyway. I’ll join you in a bit.”

What? He actually trusted his dorky little sister with a European prince?

“Yes, let’s.” Brodie actually sounded eager.

I held down my excitement, though. He was, after all, one of the most eligible bachelors in the world, and my dorkiness hadn’t changed in the last five minutes. Even if my grandmother had declared me beautiful—what choice did she have? Then again, Brodie, who did have a choice, had sort of complimented me.

“I’ll bring in coffee and dessert,” Gram-Elaine announced, before another scowl. “Although you didn’t clean your plate, Adelaide.”

Talk about reminding me I was nothing but a dumb little sister. And using my full name to boot. “Join us, Grampa-Doyle?” I pleaded.

He grinned. “Darlin’ the apple dumplin’s are my very own recipe. They need careful tending for ten more minutes, else the caramel candy in the center’ll turn to goo. I’ll see you two then.”

Nate’s phone exploded into Disturbed’s version of “Sounds of Silence.” Ironic. I cringed along with him. He’d broken Gram-Elaine’s most fundamental rule—no electronics at the table. She frowned.

“Well, go on then,” she snapped. “Get to it so the blamed ring tone doesn’t keep on bothering me. It’s a fine version, but the song from my youth is so much better, in my opinion. Y’all understand the key word is silence!”

Setting down the dishes he’d cleared, Nate garbled his half of the conversation into his shoulder. When he hung up, he grinned up at me. “That was Blake and Adam. They want to meet us at the basketball game and then come over to shoot some pool.”

Me? Of course they meant Brodie. “You guys go on ahead,” I told him. “Stella’s not home from college yet.” Their younger sister had been my best friend since moving here, and I didn’t want to get stuck having our big brothers talk over me the entire night. Or beat me yet again at pool and tease me forever.

Brodie stood, grabbed his plate to clear. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass, Nate. I had a video conference with my parents and the High Commissioner this morning at three, and I’m beat. National business.” He rolled his eyes. “I might just head off to the bunkhouse.”

Then he looked straight at me. “After dessert, I mean.”

“Business? Sounds pretty official.” Nate ruined the moment.

“Uh, yeah. My father wants me to head an investigative committee on the possibility of an underwater cable to nearby countries. I can’t really say no. It’s a wonderful idea.”

“A cable? Why?” I asked, already shaky about being alone with him in front of a fire. A good shaky.

Brodie shrugged. “Both to sell and provide renewable energy to our neighbors and to trade surpluses of it.” He glanced at Gram-Elaine again. “Dornfeld is volcanic, and our energy sources are powered by underground heat. Sometimes, we have more than we use.”

“Underwater sounds expensive,” Gram-Elaine mused.

“Clean energy, no. A cable, yes. A king’s ransom, as they say.” Brodie chuckled over the ding of the oven timer. “And then some.”

Grampa-Doyle jumped to his feet. “Gotta check those caramels.”

A king’s ransom. Talk about different worlds. I could barely afford Christmas shopping. Not that my dad wasn’t wealthy, too. I just liked paying my own way when I could.