A Royal Fortune. Judy Duarte

everyone having so many family gatherings to attend, this seemed to be the easiest way to get together.”

      Amber glanced at Jensen, who’d answered the door like a jerk and now appeared rather sheepish. Well, bully for that. It served him right for being such a snob.

      Amber knew how some of the wealthy British behaved, thanks to Gram’s recent addiction to the Downton Abbey series. And Jensen reminded her of the snooty upper crust.

      Jensen approached Amber and reached out his hand in greeting, his sheepish expression morphing into one that was almost...dashing. “I’m sorry for being rude when I answered the door. We’ve been bombarded by some rather innovative members of the press, as well as the paparazzi lately, and I was merely trying to ward them off at the pass. Allow me to properly introduce myself. I’m Jensen, Amelia’s older brother.”

      If Amelia’s handsome big brother thought that she’d acted like a fool at the royal sight of him, at least he was gentlemanly enough not to mention it.

      And while Amber had always had a stubborn streak, she’d never been one to hold a grudge. Besides, it was the Christmas season—God rest ye merry gentlemen and all of that.

      So she took his hand and gave it a hearty shake. “Apology accepted. We own a spread down the road a piece.”

      “Do you raise cattle—like Quinn?” he asked.

      “No. We breed and train cutting horses.”

      “Really?” He seemed to perk up and ease closer. And he held her hand a moment longer. “I’d be interested in seeing your operation sometime.”

      No kidding? Where did that come from? Not that she’d object. It’s just that...well, he’d gone from stuffy to friendly in zero to sixty, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Nor was she sure what to make of the warmth of his touch.

      “Sure,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his. “You can come out for a visit. I’d be happy to give you a tour.”

      “Would tomorrow be convenient?”

      So soon?

      She shook off her momentary surprise. “That’s fine. The Broken R is about four miles down the road. There’s a big green John Deere mailbox in front of a white wrought-iron gate. You can’t miss it.”

      “Would there be a more suitable time for my visit?”

      My, the man was certainly formal. And persistent. But then again, he was probably used to getting his way. With the ladies, too, no doubt. She smiled. “This is Texas. Our ranches are always open and ready to receive company. How about nine? Or is that too early for you?”

      “I’m up bright and early. So that’s not a problem.”

      A smile stole across her face. She wondered what time the royals considered early. She and every rancher she knew usually woke before dawn.

      “So,” she said, “the press has been pestering y’all?”

      “Like hounds on a fox. We’ve grown up with it, so we usually take it in stride. But they’ve taken great pleasure in the fact that Amelia has fallen in love with a cowboy. And now that she’s settled in Horseback Hollow and is expecting a baby, they’ve been making it extremely difficult on her.”

      No wonder he’d thought Amber was up to something when she’d rang the bell.

      “In fact,” Jensen said, “now that the birth is so close at hand, they’ve been especially wily and persistent.”

      “Just so they can take photographs?” she asked.

      “Yes, and to be the first to report whether the new little one is a boy or a girl.”

      Amber, who’d always been as curious as she’d been stubborn couldn’t help but turn to the handsome British royal and ask, “Which is it going to be?”

      “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t breathe a word of the secret. But Amelia and Quinn have decided to be surprised.” Jensen crossed his arms and tossed her a cocky smile, reminding her of a Cheshire cat and making her heart scamper.

      Fortunately, before she had to decide what to do about it, Jeanne Marie approached. “Can I get either of you a cup of coffee? Or maybe you’d rather have Jensen pour you some of Amelia’s eggnog? You can have it with rum or without.”

      “You might fancy a cup with rum,” Jensen said. “It’s quite good. And a holiday tradition in our family. I’ll pour you a spot.”

      Amber thanked him.

      “It’s been fun blending our holiday traditions,” Jeanne Marie added.

      “I guess change isn’t always a bad thing.” Amber wished she would eventually come to believe that herself.

      Jeanne Marie sighed. “I don’t know about that. When it comes to family, it’s been fun. But not when it comes to our town and community.”

      “Are you talking about Cowboy Country USA?” Amber knew where Jeanne Marie was going with that. The town had seemed to split in its support of the new Western theme park that was being built near Vicker’s Corners. Some thought it would draw tourists and business to Horseback Hollow and others were staunchly against its construction because they feared it would make a mockery of the Western life they held dear.

      “Now, I’m not one to get political,” Jeanne Marie said. “And I’m not about to make a fuss down at city hall or give speeches in Town Square on Founder’s Day. But I like Horseback Hollow just the way it is.”

      Amber understood her concern—and that of the others, too. But she was excited to have an amusement park so close to home. She loved roller coasters and thought it would be cool to show the tourists from the rest of America how their country counterparts lived.

      She’d also been approached by the casting department of Moore Entertainment about starring in their Wild West Show. And she was going to accept the offer because it would provide her with an opportunity to rope and ride again in an arena, while not having to leave Gram to run the ranch alone. She hadn’t told anyone, though. No need to risk getting run out of town on a rail.

      Besides, she wouldn’t hurt Jeanne Marie for the world. The woman had become a second mother to her after her own mama had passed.

      When Jensen returned, Jeanne Marie and Lady Josephine excused themselves and went to find seats closer to all the holiday activity.

      “Here you go, Miss...” Jensen paused as he handed Amber a glass of eggnog, along with a holiday napkin. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your last name.”

      “It’s Rogers,” she said, as she took the drink and thanked him.

      Jensen—Lordy, the man was handsome—tossed her an earth-tilting grin. “Are you any relation to Roy?”

      “You mean Rod, who owns the R and J Auto Body in Vicker’s Corners? No, I’m afraid not.”

      “Actually,” he said, “I was referring to Roy Rogers, the old-time movie star.”

      Amber stole a glance at the Brit. Who in America, especially the state of Texas, wouldn’t know who Roy Rogers was? She just hadn’t expected Jensen to. But rather than point out their obvious cultural differences, she said, “I’m afraid that was a bit before my time.”

      “It’s before mine, as well. But since I’m an American Western film buff, I’m familiar with all the old movie stars, such as Tom Mix, Randolph Scott, John Wayne...”

      She crossed her arms and shot him a playful grin. “So you assumed that, just because I’m a cowgirl, that I should be familiar with all things Western, even from sixty and seventy years ago?” He probably also thought she sang on her horse as she cantered along in her fringed pink vest à la Dale Evans.

      “I’m sorry. It appears that I’m making all kinds of false