His Queen of Hearts

“I—I need to take care of something,” he said, turning away and striding to the door. Without another word, he was gone.

Carly stared after him. What had she done?

Stunned, she made her way slowly to the sofa on legs that would barely hold her and sank onto it.

Maybe the question she needed to ask herself was why she wanted to kiss him so badly. Part of the answer was easy. His kisses made her forget her problems. But kissing him—even wanting to kiss him—only made the problems worse. Fleeing her wedding with no plan for her future proved how impulsive she was. Falling for Dev—

No. She hadn’t fallen for him yet.

Or had she?

Dear Reader,

April is an exciting month for the romance industry because that is when our authors learn whether or not their titles have been nominated for the prestigious RITA® Award sponsored by the Romance Writers of America. As with the Oscars, our authors will find out whether they’ve actually won in a glamorous evening event that caps off the RWA national conference in July. Of course, all the Silhouette Romance titles this month are already winners to me!

Karen Rose Smith heads up this month’s lineup with her tender romance To Protect and Cherish (#1810) in which a cowboy-at-heart bachelor becomes a father overnight. Prince Incognito (#1811) by Linda Goodnight features another equally unforgettable hero—this one a prince masquerading as an ordinary guy. Nearly everyone accepts his disguise except, of course, our perceptive heroine who is now torn between the dictates of her head…and her heart. Longtime Silhouette Romance author Sharon De Vita returns with Doctor’s Orders (#1812), in which a single mother who has been badly burned by love discovers a handsome doctor just might have the perfect prescription for her health and longtime happiness. Finally, in Roxann Delaney’s His Queen of Hearts (#1813), a runaway bride goes from the heat and into the fire when she finds herself holed up in a remote location with her handsome rescuer.

Happy reading!

Sincerely,

Ann Leslie Tuttle

Associate Senior Editor

His Queen of Hearts

Roxann Delaney

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Books by Roxann Delaney

Silhouette Romance

Rachel’s Rescuer #1509

A Saddle Made for Two #1533

A Whole New Man #1658

The Truth About Plain Jane #1748

His Queen of Hearts #1813

ROXANN DELANEY

doesn’t remember a time when she wasn’t reading or writing, and she always loved that touch of romance in both. A native Kansan, she’s lived on a farm and in a small town, and has now returned to live in the city where she was born. Her four daughters and grandchildren keep her busy when she isn’t writing, designing Web sites or planning her high school class reunions. The 1999 Maggie Award winner is thrilled to have followed the yellow brick road to the land of Silhouette Romance and loves to hear from readers. Contact her at roxann@roxanndelaney.com. Also be sure to visit her Web site at www.roxanndelaney.com.

To Allison Lyons, one of Silhouette’s best, for her hard work and dedication in keeping me on track. I couldn’t have done it without you! And to Hazel Dalbom, my high school English teacher, who not only taught but also encouraged both good writing and creativity.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Chapter One

Devon Brannigan tugged at the black leather patch covering his left eye and tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard church pew. He couldn’t believe his good luck. In only a matter of time, he would finally have his hands on his no-good, greedy former neighbor. Once J.R.’s wedding vows were spoken, and the newlyweds departed for the reception, not only Dev but his two brothers back home would taste the sweetness of revenge.

Ignoring the choking scent of flowers that filled the sanctuary of the Baton Rouge church, he settled in for what he hoped would be a short wait. But he could wait as long as he had to. If nothing else, he was a patient and thorough man. He’d been trailing J.R. for months, always missing him by minutes. This time it wouldn’t happen. This time J.R. would be stopped from conning any more innocent people and would pay for his crimes.

The organ music rose to a crescendo and then slowly came to a close. Dev folded his arms on his chest, more than willing to enjoy J.R.’s last moments as a free man. The thought made him chuckle to himself. Marriage wouldn’t be the only bonds holding James Robert Staton when everything had played out. Dev wanted every penny owed him, but, even more, he wanted the man behind bars. Once the couple was on their way to their honeymoon hideaway, it would take one call to the authorities, and the Feds would take care of J.R. He chuckled again and earned a warning stare from the plump, middle-aged woman beside him. Turning to her, he smiled, knowing what her reaction would be to the look in his one eye and the patch over the other. With a huff of air, she faced forward, her shoulders bunched in indignation, exactly as he expected.

As the droning of the minister’s voice continued, Dev focused his attention on the ceremony. Staring at the back of the groom only made him more eager to get this rolling, and since there was nothing he could do about that, he let his gaze slide over the bride. Not that he could see that much of her. If he’d known anything about fashion, he might have admired her wedding dress. But to him it was nothing more than a shroud of white covering what might or might not be a delightful body. It didn’t matter. He had better things to do than chase after women.

But he couldn’t ignore the perfection of her profile when she turned to smile at her groom. J.R. might be considered a handsome man, but he didn’t deserve the beauty he’d soon be wed to. Did she deserve the shock she’d be in for as soon as the I do’s were said?

Before Dev could imagine how distraught the bride might become when he played his hand and how she might just throw in a wild card he hadn’t considered, she faced the guests. Enchanted by the vision of the auburn-haired beauty, Dev barely heard her clear her throat, intent on the nervous smile playing at her full lips.

“Thank you all for coming to share this special day,” she said, her husky voice wobbling slightly. “I want to thank my mama for this beautiful wedding. And my bridesmaids for all their loving support.”

Dev wasn’t sure if her gesture was customary, but by the wary look in J.R.’s eyes, he knew something unplanned was happening. Uncrossing his arms, he sat up straighter, still hoping to remain unnoticed, yet wishing he had a better view.

The bride’s gaze darted from one side of the church to the other. J.R. reached out to take her hand, but she pulled back, bestowing him with a trembling smile, and looked directly at one of the women in the wedding party. “I’d especially like to thank my maid of honor, Priscilla. She probably isn’t aware of it, but she did me a great service two nights ago by sleeping with James.”

A collective gasp rose among the guests, followed by silence and then a quiet murmur that grew louder. A spattering of giggles could be heard near the front of the church where J.R. stood like a marble statue, never batting an eye. The maid of honor turned to glance at the guests, her face pale. As bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks, her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“It’s all right, Prissy,” the bride told her. “It really is.” She smiled, her eyes glittering, and looked down at a woman on the end of the front row. “I’m sorry, Mama, but I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

Gathering her voluminous skirt, she nearly flew up the aisle. For a moment there was no sound, and then an anguished cry from the woman she’d spoken to filled the crowded room. “You have to, Carolyn!”

The rustle of lace swept past Dev. Acting on instinct, Devon slammed his Stetson on his head and jumped to his feet, hurrying to catch her by one lace-covered elbow as she pushed open the massive wooden door. Sunlight blinded him for a moment, but he held tight to her to keep her from stumbling.

“God help me,” he heard her whisper.

He tugged his hat farther down as a shield from the sunshine and prying eyes. “Well, I’m sure not God, sugar, but I’ll be more than happy to do whatever I can,” he replied, guiding her down the steps.

She didn’t fight him as he hustled her toward his Jeep, parked less than half a block away. The click of her heels on the sidewalk echoed with each step, until they heard the church doors burst open and the sound of agitated voices behind them. Reaching his vehicle, Dev yanked open the passenger door for her and waited until she bunched her dress enough to slide in. Then he circled the front of the Jeep and climbed in behind the wheel.

Checking for traffic, he started the engine. “Hang on, sugar,” he said, twisting the steering wheel to leave the parking spot with a squeal of rubber. He made a tight U-turn and stomped the accelerator just as they passed the growing crowd of people on the church steps. With a quick glance in that direction, he saw J.R. near the door, his hands fisted at his sides and a deep frown marring his good looks.

Gotcha. Dev smiled to himself. Things sure hadn’t worked out as he’d planned, but he’d played the surprise hand he’d been dealt with his usual talent. Satisfied, he eased off on the gas and sneaked a look at his passenger.

Head tilted back to lean against the headrest and eyes closed, she was the perfect picture of a serene bride. But she couldn’t be. She’d just jilted her groom at the altar. Any woman who’d been through what she must have couldn’t be feeling calm.

“You okay?” he asked.

After a brief moment she nodded.

He glanced down at her hands. Knotted tightly in her lap, they gave her away. He was an expert at reading body language in his business and in everyday life, too. His thirty-four years had taught him well. He would let her calm down and get her thoughts together, and then he’d find out what was going on. Were J.R.’s cheating ways the only reason she’d dumped him, or was there more to it?

She didn’t know it, but Dev had a stake in this. And she’d become his ace in the hole.

When her heart stopped slamming against her ribs and her body ceased trembling, Carly Albright took a deep breath and slowly let it out. How had she done it? Of course there’d been no choice, but how had she stood there and announced that she couldn’t marry James? What would he do? What would her mama do?

So many questions and no answers. Maybe that was a good thing. If she could just put the incident out of her mind and—And what? She didn’t even know where she was going, let alone how to deal with life once she got there.

And what must this man beside her, who’d blessedly come to her rescue, think of her?

She opened her eyes and peeked at him from under her lashes. For one second she couldn’t breathe. Mercy goodness, but he was handsome! Dark, nearly ebony hair curled beneath the brim of his black cowboy hat. He wasn’t dressed in western clothing, but something about him other than the hat shouted “cowboy.” His jaw was strong, angular, his nose long and straight. High cheekbones gave him a European air, while a silvery scar ran across the bridge of his nose and disappeared on the other side. And those lips! Firm, yet full. Sensual. Carly had to press her own lips together to capture her sigh before it escaped.

He had a dangerous look about him, but she didn’t feel threatened. In fact, she felt more secure than she had for weeks, ever since she’d started having doubts about marrying James.

Well, what’s done is done, she thought, opening her eyes wide and lifting her hands to slip out the hairpins that held her headpiece. She’d find a way to make the best of it. She only hoped it didn’t become a disaster, like her wedding.

“Do you mind if I toss this in the back?” she asked, pulling the multitiered veil off her head.

He didn’t turn to look at her. “Be my guest.”

Pivoting in the seat to stuff the netting in the back, she checked behind them to make sure no one was following. When she was satisfied that the highway behind them was clear of any familiar vehicles, she settled back into the seat again.

There was no sense worrying about it. It was done and over with. The only thing that worried her was her mama. But somehow, Carly knew Lily Mae Charpentier Albright would make out just fine. Maybe even better, if she went on with the plans they’d made about selling the mansion. Just as she would, herself. If only she had a plan.

“So. Where are we headed?” she asked over the muted strains of country music playing on the radio.

For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her. “Where can I drop you?” he finally asked. When she didn’t answer, he glanced at her. “At home? A friend’s? Relative’s?”

Going home was out of the question. At least for now. The chance was too big that James would look for her there. She couldn’t face him. And seeing family and friends would be more than humiliating. She felt bad about leaving her mama to deal with the backlash, but Mama could handle it with her usual Southern grace. Carly just wasn’t up to it.

She looked down at her hands, tightly fisted in her lap. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “You were there. You saw what happened.”

He was silent again, until a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you need some time. Would you like to go somewhere they can’t find you?”

She really hadn’t given it any thought, concentrating only on the wedding and how to stop it. “Well, yes, I guess I do.”

“Thought so. I saw you checking to make sure we’re not being followed. You can rest easy. We aren’t.”

Carly worried her bottom lip, imagining the mess she’d left back at the church. If she could trust Prissy, she’d call her, but since her best friend had taken it upon herself to avail herself of the groom’s sexual charms, she wasn’t the wisest choice for a confidante at this point in time.

Maybe she could start fresh somewhere, or at least wait until the uproar died down before returning home. After quickly reassuring herself that she was safer nowhere near Baton Rouge, at least for a while, Carly relaxed. One less thing to worry about and, hopefully, she would learn to be a better judge of people.

“We’re headed west?” she asked, looking to the future, instead of the past.

Nodding, he kept his eyes on the late-afternoon traffic. “To Texas?”

He briefly took his attention off the road long enough to glance at her. “What makes you think so?”

“Your Texas drawl.” When he glanced at her again, she felt more than saw his surprise. “It’s not the same as a Louisiana accent,” she quickly explained. “Or Georgia or Arkansas or Mississi—”

“Right.” His long fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “I never realized I still had it,” he muttered under his breath.

“That black hat’s a good hint.”

“Men wear Stetson’s in Louisiana, too.”

“But you’re not from Louisiana.”

This time his fingers gripped the steering wheel, and the hard, sharp angle of his jaw moved before he spoke. “Same thing as.”

Carly wished he’d do more than glance at her. Having a conversation with someone she couldn’t make eye contact with always made her uneasy. That’s what had started her wondering about James over the past week. It wasn’t that he never looked at her directly. He did, often. But lately there had been something in his eyes. Something that had begun to make her uncomfortable at times. He had never given her a reason not to trust him. In fact, he had swept her off her feet the first time she met him. She now understood what a whirlwind courtship was. Flowers, candlelit dinners, expensive trinkets and lots of attention. James certainly knew how to turn a girl’s head. And he had been more than a gentleman with both her and her mama. But although she had made it to the age of twenty-six without making a major mistake with a man, she knew now that her judgment, of men especially, was practically nonexistent. She had always considered herself a good judge of character. Not that her family and close friends agreed. Now she had proof they were right.

“You always lived in Louisiana?”

So lost in thought, his question startled her, and she answered automatically. “Born and raised in Baton Rouge, like all the Albrights and Charpentiers. I guess we’ve been here forever. I’d even bet we were here before the city was founded.” She turned to look at the man next to her. “What about you?”

“You’re a betting woman?”

It was the third time he’d answered a question with a question, and she didn’t like what it might mean. “No, what I meant was, where are you from?”

“Didn’t we just cover that?”

It was exactly as she had suspected. He didn’t want to answer her questions. What was he hiding? Was Prissy right? Was she too trusting? Well, she certainly had been where Prissy and James were concerned.

“Do you always do that?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t as gullible as everyone told her she was.

“Do what?”

She gave a nervous little laugh. He wasn’t making things look any better with his evasion. “Answer a question you don’t want to answer with another question.”

Once again the corner of his mouth turned up, and Carly wondered what a full smile looked like. Mercy goodness! She hadn’t even had a good look at him when he’d helped her into the vehicle. Pauvre Défunte Mamère, rest her soul, had told her time and again that she would come to a bad end if she didn’t curb her impulsivité. She had been in such a panic to get away from the church as fast and as far as possible, she hadn’t given any thought to what kind of man he might be. Only that he had come along when she had needed someone the most. He could be anybody. A kidnapper, for instance. Although why anyone would want to do that, since she and her mother didn’t have two nickels left to rub together, was beyond her. Things had been bad enough before the wedding, but after all the expenses, she wondered what would happen if she were held for ransom. Would he kill her? Or would he merely leave her in some horrid place to fend for herself?

“Should I be afraid of you?” she asked, suddenly praying that, if nothing else, this stranger was truthful.

“Are you?”

“See? You did it again. And that makes me wonder if I shouldn’t demand that you stop this second and let me out.” She had never done anything this reckless or foolish. But there hadn’t been time to think through the situation. She’d needed a way out of the worst moment in her life, and he’d been there to save her. What would happen if she now needed rescuing from her rescuer?

Making certain he was watching the road and not her, she slowly reached for the doorhandle, grateful that her bouffant skirt hid her movement.

She froze when he leaned over to grasp the wrist of her free hand. He kept his eyes on the road and his voice low. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sugar. Jumping from a car going ninety miles an hour isn’t healthy.”

Carly swallowed the lump of fear in her throat, acutely aware of the tingling in her fingertips from his touch.

Releasing her, he slowed the car as they entered heavier traffic. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yeah, right,” she muttered under her breath.

His soft chuckle sent a warm shiver up her spine. “Trust me,” he said, his voice setting butterflies free low in her middle. “The last thing I want is to see you hurt.”

She ignored the flutterings and noticed that he was looking for a spot to pull off the road. If she could stall him long enough, make him think she was going along with this, maybe she’d get the chance to escape.

“Trust you?” she asked, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her nervousness. “I don’t even know your name.”

“What’s yours?”

Frustration warred with fear and won. “Carolyn. Carolyn Albright. But my friends call me Carly.”

“Nice to meet you, Carly. Mine’s Dev Brannigan.”

Slowing almost to a stop, he pulled into the drive-through of a familiar hamburger chain. “You hungry?”

She started to tell him he couldn’t change the subject. But when he turned in the seat to look at her, the words died on her lips.

One dark eyebrow arched over a sapphire-blue eye, the other was covered with a black leather patch, giving him a rakish appearance. Like a pirate.

Or the Devil.

While his traveling companion slept, Dev thought about her reaction to what must have been her first view of his eyepatch. Surprise had been the first emotion to cross her face. But it hadn’t lasted more than a second. He hadn’t seen the next thing coming, but he should have. If she had screamed, he would have been prepared. Not Carly Albright. Nope. She’d just matter-of-factly asked him if Dev was short for Devil.

Chuckling softly so he wouldn’t wake her, he shook his head. Just like his mother, who had often told him she had named him for Lucifer, not a French ancestor. Carly certainly was straightforward. No keeping her hand close to her vest. And the questions! Right and left. He felt like a novice tennis player trying to field McEnroe’s volleys. He had wanted to ease the fear she had eventually shown of him, but the less she knew, the better. At least for now. And until he could discover what, if anything, besides J.R.’s last-minute infidelity, had caused her to run out on her wedding, he wasn’t revealing anything about himself until and unless it was absolutely necessary.

His older brother, Chace, referred to their former neighbor as a snake. Considering the story of how Chace had met his wife, Ellie, Dev agreed that the term fit. He preferred weasel. Like the predatory animal that sneaked into henhouses in the dark of night, J.R. did his damage and was gone before anyone was the wiser. Was Carly Albright his latest victim? Had she, like Ellie almost had, fallen for one of his schemes?

When he had helped her from the church, Dev’s only thought had been to question her while he took her wherever she wanted to go. He hadn’t planned anything more, until he learned she had nowhere to go. Now that she was in his care for however long, he hoped J.R. would come after her.

He had waited for the right moment to ask a few questions, but once they’d eaten and driven another thirty minutes, her eyelids had fluttered shut, hiding her blue-green eyes, and he hadn’t wanted to disturb her. Especially when he noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

This wasn’t the way he’d expected to be driving home, with an almost-bride on the run, but it sure beat the alternative. He was pretty certain J.R. hadn’t recognized him, but even that didn’t matter. No one, not even his family, had any idea what he did or where he lived. He had planned it that way. Maybe he would soon be able to tell them about his life. Then again, once they knew everything, they might not give a damn.

The miles ticked by while he considered how to let J.R. know where to find the blushing bride. By the time the sun blazed its lowering path to the horizon, and the highway led him into the heart of Shreveport, he had planned his next play.