Royal Holiday Baby. Leanne Banks

      “There’s a difference between burden and responsibility,” he said.

      She nodded. “That’s very true. I’m just not accustomed to dealing with men who know how to distinguish the two.”

      “Maybe you’ve been hanging around the wrong men,” he said.

      Her lips lifted in amusement. “Maybe so.”

      “Do you know what your plans are?” he asked. “Are you going to live in your country?”

      Tina looked down at her hands folded in her lap and shook her head. “My brother is going to freak out. He might have expected something like this from my younger sister, but never me. I know he’s in a difficult situation, but I just wish I could go away for a while. I need to get my head on straight about all this and doing that in Chantaine is going to be very, very difficult, if not impossible.”

      “I have the perfect place if you need to think. My ranch,” he said.

      She blinked at the recommendation. “Your ranch?” she echoed as if that possibility was last on her list.

      “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “It’s no palace, but most people who visit like it. It’s quiet. You would be able to think. Plus,” he said, “it would give you an opportunity to get to know the father of your child better.”

      She met his gaze and a glimmer of the night they’d shared seemed to pass through her eyes. Licking her lips, she glanced away. Zach felt a surprising bolt of sexual awareness stab at him. Where the hell had that come from?

      “What do you say?” he asked.

      “I don’t know,” she said. “I hadn’t even considered this until this moment. I can’t make an instant decision.”

      “Why not?” he asked. “You have a passport. You’re an adult. You can do whatever you think is best for you and your child.”

      At that moment, a group of men with cameras and microphones burst into the garden. “Princess Valentina, tell us the truth. Are you pregnant?”

      “Oh, no.” Tina stood and backed away.

      Zach automatically stepped in front of her. “Leave her alone,” he said.

      “Who are you?” the short, portly reporter continued. “You’re not her regular bodyguard. Are you her lover?” he asked. “The father of her child?”

      Cameras snapped and the reporter pressed against him. “Leave us alone. Get out of here.”

      The reporter continued to push against Zach, irritating him with his persistence. “You sound American. What’s your name?”

      “None of your damn business,” Zach said. “Step aside. You’re bothering Tina.”

      The reporter pushed past Zach and began to crowd Tina. “Tina,” the reporter echoed. “Who is this man? How far along are you? Are you getting married?”

      Zach pushed his way between the reporter and Tina. “Last warning. Step aside.”

      The reporter ignored him and Zach knocked him to the ground. He picked up Tina and carried her out of the garden.

      Tina gawked at Zach. “What are you doing?”

      “Getting you the hell away from those wackos,” he said, heedless of the stares he drew as he hauled her through the small museum.

      “Where are we going?” she asked as he tucked her into a rental car and got into the driver’s seat. He started the engine and put the car into gear.

      He glanced at her. “Where do you want to go?”

      Her heart dipped at his expression. Her heart, in fact, hadn’t beat regularly since she’d looked up to see him in the museum courtyard.

      “Do you want to go back to your sister’s house?” he asked.

      Her stomach twisted. “Not really. My bodyguard will insist that I talk to my brother. He may even push me into going back to Chantaine.”

      Zach made a U-turn. “Okay, that’s out. We could go to my hotel.”

      “So public,” she said. “If you think the paparazzi was bad here …”

      He shrugged. “Okay. How about my ranch?”

      She gulped, taking in the way his large hand shifted gears. “That would require a flight. That could take some time.”

      Zach shifted gears and accelerated. He met her gaze. “Not necessarily. I can have a jet ready in an hour.”

      Surprise raced through her. “That would be expensive,” she said, aware of the cost of private transatlantic flights because she usually flew first-class to save the royal family some change.

      “I can handle it,” he said with a shrug of his powerful shoulders. “I usually fly first-class for the legroom, but the jet’s always at my disposal. But are you sure about this?”

      Tina felt another forbidden thrill. Her brother would wring her neck. Her sisters would curse her for leaving them to deal with her brother. She bit the inside of her lip and nodded. “I’m sure.”

       Chapter Four

      Half a day later, Tina awakened to the sensation of Zach’s jet landing on a runway. Rousing herself from her slumber, she squinted out the window to see the flat landscape surrounding the Dallas Fort Worth International Airport.

      She glanced across the aisle at Zach. He was looking outside the window on his side of the jet. His long lean legs extended before him, his dark hair was mussed. She wondered if he had slept half as much as she had.

      She realized again that she had committed to going to his ranch. He was a man she knew intimately. In most ways, however, she barely knew him at all, and he barely knew her.

      A knot of nerves formed in her throat. What in the world had she done? Tina took a deep breath. Give yourself a break. You didn’t have a lot of choices.

      Zach turned to look at her. “We’re here. I can get a helicopter. Otherwise it’s an hour and a half drive to my ranch.”

      “There’s no need for a helicopter,” she said. “I’ve slept most of the flight. A car will be fine.”

      “You’re sure?” he asked.

      She nodded, smiling. “I’m sure.”

      His gaze did things to her. She looked away to gather her things. He ushered her out of the plane and down the steps to the tarmac.

      Two armed officers immediately approached them. “Mr. Logan, we need to question you about the kidnapping of Valentina Devereaux.”

      Zach blinked. “Excuse me?” he said.

      “Oh, no,” Tina whispered. “This is either my brother or my security guard. Or both.” Refusing to be a victim, refusing to allow Zach to be a victim, she went into Princess-mode. “Pardon me, officer, but there’s obviously been a misunderstanding. Mr. Logan graciously allowed me to be a passenger on his jet. I was being pursued by the paparazzi and he provided me with a safe escape.”

      The uniformed men exchanged glances. “His Majesty, Stefan Devereaux, insists you were taken against your will.”

      “His Majesty is mistaken,” she said, lifting her chin. “I am here and this is where I wish to be.”

      “Give me a minute,” one of the officers said.

      The two men exchanged an extensive whispered conversation, then turned toward her. One pulled out a cell phone. “Clear it with His Majesty. I don’t want a diplomatic incident on my head,” the man said with a southern drawl.

      “Clear it,” she echoed, unable to keep the indignation from her voice.