The Blacksheep Prince's Bride

Word has it that Rowena Wilde, lady-in-waiting to Princess Isabel, has devoted herself to caring for the two-year-old son of gorgeous royal cousin Jake Stanbury—the number-one suspect in King Michael’s disappearance!—while the Americans are still on Edenbourg soil. However, what started as a simple “favor” seems to have escalated into something a bit more long-term—for Jake has just proposed marriage to the lovely virgin! But will a secret Rowena holds in her heart keep their temporary arrangement from becoming a lifetime commitment?

Now Nicholas is missing, too!

Or is he?

Code Name: Prince (SR#1516) by Valerie Parv

Dear Reader,

The year is off to a wonderful start in Silhouette Romance, and we’ve got some of our best stories yet for you right here.

Our tremendously successful ROYALLY WED series continues with The Blacksheep Prince’s Bride by Martha Shields. Our intrepid heroine—a lady-in-waiting for Princess Isabel—will do anything to help rescue the king. Even marry the single dad turned prince! And Judy Christenberry returns to Romance with Newborn Daddy. Poor Ryan didn’t know what he was missing, until he looked through the nursery window.…

Also this month, Teresa Southwick concludes her much-loved series about the Marchetti family in The Last Marchetti Bachelor. And popular author Elizabeth August gives us Slade’s Secret Son. Lisa hadn’t planned to tell Slade about their child. But with her life in danger, there’s only one man to turn to.…

Carla Cassidy’s tale of love and adventure is Lost in His Arms, while new-to-the-Romance-line Vivienne Wallington proves she’s anything but a beginning writer in this powerful story of a man Claiming His Bride.

Be sure to come back next month for Valerie Parv’s ROYALLY WED title as well as new stories by Sandra Steffen and Myrna Mackenzie. And Patricia Thayer will begin a brand-new series, THE TEXAS BROTHERHOOD.

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

The Blacksheep Prince’s Bride

Martha Shields

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Lisa Turner

Books by Martha Shields

Silhouette Romance

*Home Is Where Hank Is #1287

*And Cowboy Makes Three #1317

*The Million-Dollar Cowboy #1346

Husband Found #1377

The Princess and the Cowboy #1403

Lassoed! #1461

The Blacksheep Prince’s Bride #1510

MARTHA SHIELDS

grew up telling stories to her sister in the back seat of the family Rambler on the way to visit their grandparents in Florida. A way to pass the time turned into a love of words, which led to an education in journalism. Fresh out of college, Martha discovered romance novels and finally found a focus for her writing. Martha lives in Memphis, Tennessee, with her husband of over twenty years, a college-age daughter and a Cairn “terror” who can’t believe he’s not in Kansas anymore. During the day, Martha tries to make college courses sound exciting, and at night, she escapes the pressures of the day by weaving tales of romantic worlds, hoping readers can do the same.

You can keep up with Martha’s new releases via her Web site, which can be reached through the author page at www.eHarlequin.com.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Rowena Wilde hated this house.

The Dowager Cottage was a dismal place. Built three centuries ago of native granite, the three-story “cottage” sat on the edge of the cliff like an old woman hunkered down against the storms blowing off the North Sea.

It was where extraneous queens grieved for lost husbands, relived former glory and waited to die.

As she stood with one hand wrapped around a cold iron spoke on the front gate, Rowena recalled the times she’d accompanied Princess Isabel as she visited her grandmother, who’d died three years ago. They’d sipped tea in the gloomy parlor with heavy velvet curtains shutting out the light. Though central heat had been installed years ago, the house was never warm. Even with a blazing fire. Even in the middle of July.

Rowena had known she’d have to stay here when she and Isabel had concocted this plan. Which was one reason she’d been half-hoping Jake Stanbury would refuse to accept her as his son’s nanny.

The cottage was full of ghosts, and Rowena had never been comfortable around ghosts.

The other reason, of course, was Jake.

Jake and the Dowager Cottage. Alone, each was a daunting prospect. Together…

Rowena shivered despite the bright April afternoon sunlight.

Both Jake and the cottage got her blood pumping, but for vastly different reasons—all related to fear.

Which was ridiculous.

Taking a deep breath, Rowena marshaled her inner resolve.

There was nothing to be afraid of. The cottage was just a pile of stone. She could dissipate the gloom by tearing down curtains and turning on lamps. And Jake…

Well, she was here for a reason. As long as she kept her mind on her purpose, she wouldn’t get sidetracked by feelings she understood all too well…and dreaded.

Rowena forced her lips into her customary smile. Her mother had always said that the best way to conquer fear was to smile your way through it. She’d learned a long time ago that her mother was right. As long as she was smiling, she couldn’t scream.

Rowena released the gate latch…wishing she didn’t feel like Sleeping Beauty about to prick her finger.

“I’m going to get you.”

Jake Stanbury stopped dead, his hand still on the knob of the massive, intricately carved front door. He recognized the voice immediately.

So Rowena Wilde had moved in.

The new nanny’s heavily sinister tone seemed to prove the possibility that had occurred to him when his royal cousin, Princess Isabel, had suggested her lady-in-waiting as caregiver for his two-year-old son—the possibility that Rowena had been placed in his household as a spy.

What the hell was he going to do now? Leave her here to poke through his papers and roam the dreary old house he’d been assigned when Sammy’s noisy antics became too much for the guests—notably Edward, his own father—in the palace apartment where they’d been staying? What if she rifled through his things while Sammy was around? Would she blithely tell the boy that his father was suspected of kidnapping the King of Edenbourg?

“I’ll find you, Sammy-Jammy. You just wait.”

Muffled giggling followed her words.

Relief flooded through Jake. They were playing a game.

Shaking his head, he closed the door and placed his briefcase on the chest in the foyer.

This is what the strain of the past month had brought him to—suspecting a sweet, beautiful young woman of playing Mata Hari. Probably the biggest intrigue Rowena had been involved in was finding the laundress responsible for scorching the princess’s favorite gown.

Jake stripped off his suit coat and laid it across his briefcase, then followed the happy sounds to the door of the formal parlor, heavily furnished in some Gothic style. Whoever had decorated this house either had eclectic tastes or access to the palace attic, because every room was decorated with a different period of antiques.

Blindfolded, her arms outstretched, Rowena wandered around the large room. Sammy peeked out from under an antique side table on the other side of the couch, one hand over his mouth to stem the tide of his laughter.

Blind Man’s Bluff. Such a simple game, but Jake had never thought to play it with his son, who was having such a good time he relieved Jake of any lingering suspicions. Sammy’s happiness was all that mattered.

Ever since Sammy’s mother had deserted them, his son had panic attacks every time Jake had to leave him with a sitter. Which was the main reason Jake needed a nanny.

He was determined to give his son a stable home. He’d been forced to use baby-sitters—strangers to Sammy—when he was out of the house, and had rarely managed to get the same one twice. Since Jake couldn’t be with Sammy twenty-four hours a day, he hoped having a live-in nanny would add stability to his son’s life.

Though he no longer had to work for a living, Jake’s expertise in mergers and acquisitions was in high demand. And there were some offers he couldn’t refuse. Like the one presented last week—as a consultant to Edenbourg’s acting king, his cousin, Nicholas.

The work was just a way to keep him busy. He knew it, and everyone else knew it. The suggestion that his expertise was needed by Nicholas was simply a way to save the royal family the embarrassment of asking him to turn over his passport so he couldn’t leave the country and return to America while they investigated any involvement he might have had in the king’s disappearance. His uncle’s disappearance.

Recognizing the frustrating path his thoughts were traveling down, Jake forced his attention back to the playful pair in the parlor.

Sammy’s giggling should’ve led Rowena right to him, of course, but she flailed around comically, running into tables and upsetting lamps and antique knickknacks which she pretended to barely catch in time. Her antics sent Sammy into fresh peals of laughter.

Jake couldn’t suppress a smile, though the tenderness melting his heart was all for his son. It definitely wasn’t for the petite, auburn-haired beauty bungling around his living room.

The only thing he felt for Rowena was gratitude. He finally had someone he could leave Sammy with—and feel good about it. Someone who’d already proved she could coax his son out of his panic attacks and shyness.

Jake leaned against the doorjamb to watch their antics, but straightened abruptly a moment later. Something was out of place. The only item in the room made during the last century was a shiny steel step stool…directly in Rowena’s path.

He didn’t have time to wonder what it was doing there. Vaulting over the couch, he launched himself off the side table just in time to catch Rowena as she stumbled into it.

Their combined momentum took them down, but Jake grabbed her waist and twisted so his back hit the floor first, taking her slight weight.

Rowena didn’t scream as they fell, just emitted a quick, “Oh!”

She landed flat on top of him, her legs straddling one of his, her nose buried in his chest. “What in the…?”

Because of the antique oriental rug covering the centuries-old oak floor, Jake wasn’t in enough pain to keep his body from reacting—especially when Rowena started squirming to free her hands.

Though his mind denied the feelings every time they surfaced, his body knew that he’d been attracted to Rowena since the instant he’d seen her. And now his body reminded his mind of every moment he’d indulged in sensuous fantasies about what his body wanted to do to her small but oh-so-curvaceous body.

He couldn’t remember having such a strong reaction to a woman. Ever. Including his ex-wife.

“Daddy’s home!”

His son’s cry doused enough flames for Jake’s mind to regain control.

He grabbed Rowena’s hips to keep them still…but it didn’t help. Having his hands on her bottom incited his libido just as much. Her curves were soft and warm, as was the sweet scent of roses wafting through his brain.

He could only hope she was too confused to notice what was happening between them.

When Rowena freed a hand and peeled back her blindfold, the instant of surprise lighting her long-lashed, wonderfully expressive, golden hazel eyes held a hint of pleasure. “Mr. Stanbury.”

Or was it another trick of his mind?

He couldn’t tell, because the pleasure was quickly masked with concern. “Where did you come from? Are you all right?”

Having clambered out from under the table, Sammy threw himself onto the pile.

Jake emitted a soft “oof” with the added weight.

Rowena struggled to rise. “Oh, dear. Sammy, please get off. We’re crushing your father.”

Jake smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Rowena couldn’t free herself with Sammy half on top of her. “Allowing you to breathe is ridiculous?”

He chuckled. “The two of you together don’t weigh as much as one normal person.”

Her dark red-brown eyebrows drew together as if she couldn’t decide whether he was insulting or complimenting her. “And just how often do you have ‘normal’ people on top of you?”

“Often enough to tell,” he countered.

“Daddy, guess what?”

“What, Sammy?”

“Ena’s here.”

“I know.” Jake’s smile turned to a grin. “Her elbow is sticking into my ribs. Or is that your knee?”

“Why didn’t you say something?” She carefully extricated herself from between them.

“I did.” Jake sat up easily, bringing Sammy with him. He froze immediately.

Rowena had rolled to her knees and her silk blouse had pulled away from her chest. Jake had a clear vision of two wonderfully ripe breasts falling into a black silk bra that would’ve done Victoria’s Secret proud.

As he swallowed the thick lump which suddenly stopped his air supply, Sammy scrambled over to Rowena, who sat back Indian-style and patted the full skirt that modestly covered her legs. She smiled fondly and settled Sammy in her lap.

Though Jake felt deserted, he was glad Rowena was covered up, and that she was unaware of how much he wanted to slowly unbutton every silk-covered button and—

“Thank you for rescuing me, Mr. Stanbury. Although there was no need.”

Jake’s attention swung back to reality with a hard blink. “No need? You were about to break your neck.”

“I doubt it would’ve broken.” Her smile turned impish. “As you pointed out, I’m not very tall. Which means my neck is much closer to the ground than yours.”

Beautiful, funny and she could turn a joke on herself as well. Jake had always admired people who could laugh at themselves. He’d found it an indication of intelligence and self-confidence beyond the norm.

Damn.

What the hell was he doing sitting on the floor with her? The last thing he needed was to let his libido lead him down the path to destruction. He’d been there, done that.

Annette had taken his heart and ripped it into shreds—which she threw in his face as she walked out the door for a man with more money and more ambition.

And Jake had a sneaking suspicion that Rowena had more than beauty in common with Annette.

His cousin’s lady-in-waiting didn’t top the list of the hot palace buzz. The gossip was low-key and inconsistent. Still, Jake had made enough firsthand observations and gleaned enough information to piece together an unflattering picture.

Rowena dated more than a few of the diplomats and officials who visited Edenbourg, never going out with the same man more than a few times. But what was more important, she never dated anyone who didn’t have a title.

He’d learned too late that Annette had only married him because of his royal blood. Annette had learned too late that she wouldn’t benefit from his connections to the royal family of Edenbourg.

He was American through and through, and didn’t give a damn about a country he’d never visited, or a family who’d never so much as sent him a birthday card.

Rowena also had a flirtatious nature in common with Annette, which he’d witnessed on the few occasions she’d attended royal functions. She flitted around the palace rooms like a butterfly, bestowing her devastatingly bright, sweetly impish smile on every man there…except him. Because he didn’t have a title.

Jake shoved aside the irritation that realization always brought. He was glad she didn’t come on to him. It made it easier to listen to his brain rather than his libido. He was definitely not interested in having a relationship with her.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

He’d all but panicked when Isabel had suggested Rowena as his nanny. But since the proposal came from his royal cousin, he knew it was yet another offer he couldn’t refuse.

He’d been able to avoid close contact with the lovely lady-in-waiting for the month he’d been forced to stay in Edenbourg. And because he knew he couldn’t avoid her altogether if they lived in the same house, he’d planned to stay clear of her as much as possible when he was home.

He certainly hadn’t planned to take a tumble with her on the parlor floor the minute he walked through the door. Or to be sitting here longing to drag her onto his lap. He would snake one arm around her tiny waist, then with the other he’d stroke back her thick, richly-hued auburn hair and kiss the soft skin of the small, curving neck—

Damn.

Jake dragged his eyes away from the lovely neck she joked about. What was wrong with him? Sammy was sitting right there on her lap.

This was not starting out well.

The smart thing would be to stand up—now—dust himself off and make some excuse about paperwork.

Instead, he said, “Jake.”

“Pardon me?”

If he could’ve kicked himself in his traitorous mouth, he would’ve. His insistence on her calling him Jake had come in a moment of weakness…right after he’d agreed to accept her as Sammy’s nanny.

He’d had to take Sammy along with him to the palace one day when the sitter didn’t show. Isabel had simply nodded to Rowena, who stepped forward and charmed Sammy so much he allowed her to lead him away, all smiles. And his son had returned the same way. Right then, he’d known Rowena was worth her weight in platinum and he’d offered her the nanny job on the spot.

That was his excuse at the time. What was it now?

But…he had to finish what his mouth started. Didn’t he?

“When you agreed to stay here with Sammy, you also agreed to call me Jake, not Mr. Stanbury. We shook hands on it, remember?”

“Oh. That’s right.” The faintest blush touched her cheek, and she forced a smile. “I’m sorry…Jake. I just…I guess I didn’t want to seem forward.”

Her blush caught and held Jake’s attention. He’d never seen Annette blush. His ex-wife was so calculating that she was no longer capable of blushing.

Damn. Why did Rowena have to go and do that?

There’d been enough of these seemingly insignificant clues to keep him guessing. To keep him from believing—deep down—the conclusions he’d come to about Rowena. To keep him thinking that there was more to her than she wanted anyone to see.

Jake wanted to peel back the layers and search for the real woman beneath.

Unsettled by the revealing realization, Jake didn’t even try to keep sarcasm from his voice. “And you’re never forward, are you, Miss Wilde?”

Her face registered mild shock at his rude comment. She started to say something, then pressed her lips together and used them to place a kiss on Sammy’s head. From that position, she said softly, “If I have to call you Jake, then you should call me Rowena.”

Jake was too much a lawyer to be dragged from the subject so easily. “I—”

Suddenly a bright ray of light struck Jake’s eye, catching his attention. Glancing around, he saw afternoon sunlight streaming into the west-facing bank of windows, lighting up the room.

Then he saw why. The heavy velvet curtains had been taken down, though one at each window had been draped on the curtain rod as a swag. Not enough to get in the way, just enough to add a decorative touch.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, a bit defensively. “I couldn’t bear to live here in all the gloom.”

“Gwoom?” Sammy lifted his head to look straight up at her. “Whatsat?”

She peered down at him. “Remember how dark the room was before you helped me? Gloomy is just another word for that.”

“We do all rooms, right? You said?”

Rowena smoothed Sammy’s hair off his face, then glanced up at Jake. “If your father doesn’t mind.”

Jake let go of his pique. Rowena’s ambitions were no concern of his. “I guess that explains what the step stool is doing here. Yes, please take down as many curtains as you like. This is much better. I didn’t like it being so dark, either, but I didn’t realize I could do anything about it.”

She lifted a slender shoulder. “No one has lived here for three years. Every dowager queen redecorates when she moves in, anyway. I’m just saving Queen Josephine the trouble of—”

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked when she broke off suddenly.

Her eyes were wide as they met his. “I’m talking as if she’d be moving in soon. Which means I must think, deep down, that…”

“That my uncle is dead.”

She nodded fearfully.

Jake was touched by the tears in her eyes. Her emotion was sincere. He’d bet his next consulting fee on it. She really loved his uncle.

He wanted to lean forward and place a comforting hand on the arm wrapped around his son, but didn’t. “It’s frustrating to everyone, not knowing. I never met my uncle, but from what I’ve heard, he’s a good man.”

She searched his eyes, then asked, “You think he’s alive?”

Jake didn’t look away. “I don’t know. If he wasn’t, I think they would’ve found…some evidence.”

“You mean his—” Her gaze dropped to Sammy, then she sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“He’s okay,” Jake said. “I know you’re worried. I’m worried, too. Everyone’s worried.”

Their gazes met again, and held. Hers asked questions her lips wouldn’t.

Had he kidnapped…and killed…King Michael?

It was the first intimation that she might think so, and once again the possibility flitted across his mind that Rowena had been placed in his house to spy.

Jake wasn’t the only suspect, of course. His cousin, Nicholas, Jake’s father, Edward, and his older brother, Luke, were also considered to have motivation since they were first, second and third in line for the throne, respectively.

Jake was fourth in line, but because he’d been the first to see the smashed railing where the King’s car had skidded off a cliff and plummeted to the rocky beach below, he was at the top of the list of suspects. He’d called the police, which made him the first on the scene, and automatically made the odds on him rise considerably. At least in the eyes of the authorities.

He supposed he should be flattered that they considered him capable of such a momentous crime—which required significant finesse and forethought—all with a two-year-old in tow after barely having stepped off the plane.

But somehow, he wasn’t.

He believed the fabled Chamber of Riches—reputed to hold a king’s ransom in royal jewels—was just that…a fable. Obtaining the key to the Chamber was supposedly his motive.

Living here, Rowena would have ample opportunity to find any evidence linking him to his uncle’s disappearance, which had happened on the day Jake had landed in Edenbourg.

There wasn’t any evidence to find, of course, but they didn’t know that…yet.

The thought of Rowena going through his things while he was away made him want to open the front door and toss her straight out into the royal rose bushes.