Montana Royalty. B.J. Daniels

why the U.S.—let alone Montana?

      If the king hoped that Montana would change his son-in-law and perhaps keep him at home long enough to produce an heir, His Royal Highness would have been sorely disappointed had he known the truth.

      Jules swore as a second person stepped from the plane onto the tarmac. Lady Monique Gray, a recent widow. Black widow, that was.

      What was she doing here? As if Jules had to ask. The princess’s husband. Broderick had been anything but discreet about his scandalous affair with the woman. If the king hadn’t controlled the media, it would have been all over the news. Princess Evangeline had to have heard about it, even though her father had worked so hard to keep it from her.

      What the king didn’t know was that his precious princess was a lot less fragile than he thought. She could squash a black widow like Lady Monique Gray—and would if given half a mind to. Lady Gray might not realize it yet, but she’d made a mistake coming here. Here in Montana, Princess Evangeline ruled like her father. If there wasn’t blood shed within a fortnight, Jules would be surprised.

      “Royals,” he muttered under his breath, then quickly turned to make sure no one had overheard. In Stanwood, the walls had ears and unless he wanted to lose his, he’d best watch himself. The king had personally put him in charge of the princess’s safety. Not that she needed it. Instead, he would probably find himself trying to protect the others from her.

      He found the whole lot of them tiresome. Especially the lords and ladies who hung around the princess like flies to spoiled meat. Lord Nicholas Ashford came to mind. Jules hated beginning the day by being sent like a messenger boy to find a missing groom.

      Especially this particular groom.

      Princess Evangeline had asked him to keep an eye on Devlin Barrow and make sure he had everything he needed, including a cottage of his own near the stables and the run of the place. Jules suspected she planned to take him as a lover. What other reason could she have for singling out the groom?

      Jules had done as ordered, but there’d been a breach in security just before dark last evening and he’d lost track of the groom. Someone had been seen on the property, sneaking around. That had taken his attention and the next thing he’d known Devlin Barrow had disappeared, last seen riding off into the rain and darkness.

      It wasn’t until that morning that Jules had been informed that a horse had returned without a rider—and that not all of the hired help had been accounted for. Devlin Barrow hadn’t returned.

      Jules had barely gotten that news when Lord Nicholas Ashford had demanded that the head of security not only find Devlin, but bring him at once to the stables.

      Given no choice, since he was subordinate to every guest of the princess’s, Jules had done as ordered.

      But it had stuck in his craw. Why had the groom ridden off so late last night and in a storm? And where had he spent the night after losing his horse?

      If Lord Ashford hadn’t ordered his favorite groom be found for his morning ride, Jules would have given the groom more than the tongue-lashing he deserved. Within reason, he thought, as he reminded himself that Devlin Barrow was to receive special treatment. Wasn’t it always the troublemakers who curried the nobles’ favor?

      But why this particular groom?

      Jules knew he should just let it go. Who cared what had happened to the groom last night? The princess hadn’t found out. Better it be forgotten.

      But Jules couldn’t let it go. As head of security, he was going to find out not only what Devlin Barrow had been up to last night, but also why the son of a stables owner was suddenly being afforded such special treatment.

      Picking up the phone, Jules called down to the stables. “Ready me a horse. No, I’ll be going alone.”

      PRINCESS EVANGELINE Stanwood Wycliffe Windham studied herself in the full-length mirror. Behind her back, she knew people tsk-tsked about how sad it was that she’d taken after her mother’s side of the family instead of her father’s. The king was quite good-looking, while her mother, rest her soul, had been average.

      Evangeline herself was below average. While she was average height, slim enough, blessed with her father’s dark hair and dark blue eyes, her facial features would have been more attractive on a horse than a woman.

      She knew she was being too critical. She had what once would have been called handsome features. Strong, striking bone structure. And she carried it off with a regal air that had definitely made some men turn their heads.

      But then again, she was the princess. She knew that was why Broderick had pursued her. He’d wanted the title, the wealth, the prominence. He’d been so handsome, so charming and so attentive that she’d overlooked his less favorable qualities and married him because she thought they’d produce beautiful heirs to the throne.

      Evangeline snorted and spun away from the mirror to stare out the window. “Bastard,” she spat out at the thought of her philandering husband. She could overlook his infidelities and had. But his latest offense was unforgivable.

      The bastard hadn’t given her an heir and now he wasn’t even sharing her bed. Maybe he thought he’d outlive her and have a chance to rule. Once her father was dead.

      Her father. Just the thought of him made her a little ill. She knew he found her a scheming wench. He had no idea, she thought, then warned herself to tread carefully. She had taken too many liberties as it was. She’d disappointed her father too many times.

      Her failure to produce a male heir, any heir at all, had angered him. He blamed her even though Lord Broderick Windham had given her little choice. Broderick, it seemed, was her punishment for her sins.

      And sins, she had many. Her latest, though, was the most dangerous. She knew if she crossed her father that she risked not only being exiled from her homeland indefinitely, but also losing her freedom, possibly even her life.

      Not that she didn’t have everything under control. She reminded herself how clever she’d been when Lord Nicholas Ashford had come to her with his request that she hire Devlin Barrow as a groom at her new home in Montana.

      It was clear to her that while Devlin had gone into hiding and no one had been able to find him after his mother’s murder, Lord Nicholas was in contact with him.

      Evangeline had provided the bait—Anna Pickering—by bringing the woman to Montana on the pretense of protecting her. Everything had worked just as she’d planned it.

      So far.

      But Evangeline could feel time slipping through her fingers like the finest sand. It was a two-edged sword, keeping both Anna Pickering and Devlin Barrow safe while at the same time planning their destruction.

      Evangeline let out an un-princesslike curse as she focused on the scene below her window.

      “What is Monique doing here?” her companion Laurencia cried as she joined the princess at the window.

      Evangeline spun away from the window as the Black Widow entered Stanwood.

      “You don’t think Broderick invited her, do you?” Laurencia asked wide-eyed.

      “Of course not,” Evangeline snapped sarcastically. It was so like her friend to say the obvious. Who else could have invited her? Lady Monique was relentless once she set her sights on a man. And now apparently she’d set her sights on the prince. And vice versa.

      This was the last straw. Evangeline had put up with her husband’s philandering for the last time. The fool was going to produce a bastard who would try to overthrow the crown one day. Evangeline had to get pregnant, and soon, to put an end to the talk of her being barren.

      But that would mean getting her husband into their marital bed. That, she knew, would take more than fortitude on her part, due to his complete lack of interest—and her own.

      It would take a miracle.

      Or something Princess Evangeline