The Rancher's Runaway Princess. Donna Alward

no way he’d forget it. Once burned…Well, that had been enough for him.

      It was crazy, thinking about her this way. It was ridiculous to even admit to himself that he felt a physical attraction to her. It’d come plain out of nowhere and had hit him square in the gut. He’d disputed it to himself earlier but there was no arguing with the dream.

      He rose from the bed and moved to the open window. Cool, crisp air fluttered over his skin. The hot, dry breezes of July nights were gone; in their place were the cold, clear nights of August, chill and full of stars. The air rushed in through the screen and he let it clear his head.

      Then he saw the light.

      The windows at the front end of the barn gleamed in the inky blackness. And he was positive he’d turned everything out before going to bed.

      He pulled on his jeans in brisk, quiet movements. He carried his boots in his hands and crept down the stairs, checking his watch as he went. The luminescent hands gleamed at the two and the four—two-twenty. When he got to the door he saw Mrs. P.’ s jacket hung precisely beside his denim one. He snagged the latter, shoved his arms in the sleeves and slid out the door into the brisk night air.

      He crept toward the barn door, which was opened a few feet, letting out a rhombus-shaped slice of yellow light. A quiet shuffle sounded; someone was definitely inside. He turned back toward the house for a moment, suspicion forming in his mind. Lucy’s room was dark, no light from the bedroom windows at the west end of the house. As another shuffle sounded, he turned again to the barn.

      She’d arrived today and now someone was in his barns in the middle of the night. Coincidence? He didn’t think so.

      What was she up to? What could she possibly be looking for? Brody exhaled slowly. All important records were locked in the office up at the house. And she likely knew that. Which meant…

      Which meant she was sneaking around his horses. Tampering, sabotage—whatever she was doing he was going to put a stop to it right now.

      He squeezed through the opening between door and wall and slowly made his way through the shadows, toward the office. A light was on inside, but another shuffle told him that whoever had turned it on was no longer inside. Instead the sound came from a stall on the right. He held his breath…there was the sound again, followed by the hollow echo of shifting hooves. Pretty’s box. The horse she’d met earlier. His heart gave a heavy thump.

      Brody squared his shoulders, took four silent, long strides that took him to the stall door.

      It, too, was open.

      He slid it open wider, bracing himself for who or what he’d find, inhaling and filling the doorway so whoever was inside would have to go through him first.

      A woman’s voice stopped him. “It’s not fair” he heard over the sound of shaky breaths. “You’re the princess, Pretty. Not me.”

      Not fair. The words seemed to bounce around in his head as his heart clubbed. If she was in there to hurt Pretty…

      He leaped into the stall. And stopped at the sight of wide brown eyes staring up at him in shock and fear, still clinging to Pretty’s mane and standing close to her withers.

      Brody’s mouth opened but he had nothing to say for the first few seconds. The lashes above her eyes were wet with tears, and as he watched in fascinated horror, one slid down over her pale cheek and dropped off her jaw into the straw by her feet. Her lips were puffy, the way he’d imagined them being after he’d kissed them in his dream, soft and fragile. And her fingers were twined in Pretty’s mane as the chestnut stood quietly at her side.

      “What in the world are you doing?”

      “I…I, uh, it was…” Lucy stammered, a guilty flush adding to her already red and chapped cheeks.

      “Eloquent.” He blocked the doorway, determined to get answers and equally determined not to let her tears influence the conversation. Pretty was a valuable mare and more than that, she was his. Nope, Miss Farnsworth had some explaining to do. And fast.

      “I came to be alone.” She shot the words out all in one go, attempting a defiance that fell completely flat.

      “So you’re sneaking around in the middle of the night? What are you really after? If you’re here to harm my horses…” He took a menacing step. “No king will protect you here, Miss Farnsworth.”

      She gawped at him with what looked like disbelief. Good, he thought. Calling her out might just get him some answers. She blinked back the remaining tears, and his shoulders relaxed a little. Relief. He didn’t deal well with tears and histrionics.

      “After? You think I’m after something?”

      “Are you kidding? You arrive today and your first night here I find you snooping around my stock while you’re supposed to be asleep? What would you think?”

      He watched, utterly entranced as she swallowed, casting her eyes on her feet. She was caught. Guilt was written all over her pink cheeks.

      “I’m sorry. Of course you would think that. I…please believe me, Mr. Hamilton. I had no…untoward intentions by coming here tonight.”

      “Then, why are you here?”

      Stoically she looked away, focused on Pretty’s neck, smoothing her hand over the gleaming hide.

      “Isn’t it obvious?”

      “Not exactly. Beyond that you’re upset.” He stepped another foot forward, shortening the distance between them. He would look in her eyes. Then he’d know for sure if she was telling the truth. “That’s a given.”

      Her lower lip trembled until she bit it, worrying it with her teeth. Brody stopped, shoved his hands in his pockets.

      “I came here to be alone. To…to have a cry out, okay? I never meant to disturb you.”

      A stranger was in his barn in the middle of the night bawling all over one of his horses. This was a first. His brows knit together. Granted, he’d been short with her a few times today. But she’d gone toe-to-toe with him and he’d respected that. He hadn’t gotten the impression she was the weepy sort.

      But she was definitely weepy now, and he had to admit her story rang true. Those tears hadn’t been manufactured when he’d burst through the stall door. And he remembered doing handkerchief duty for Lisa and stepped backward. He’d done his time with crying females and didn’t care to again.

      “Mornin’ comes early. Why don’t we go back up to the house now.”

      Her eyes slid to his, and he felt the impact straight through his gut to his spine. A few strands from her curls stuck to the dampness of her cheek.

      “I’ll be up in a bit.”

      Brody stared at her. She obviously didn’t get the hint that he didn’t want to leave her in the barn. Granted, he’d told her to make herself at home earlier, but this was stretching it just a little. More than a little. He didn’t like her snooping about, no matter who her boss was. His first care was for his horses. He’d learned that a long time ago. And it had cost him.

      “I insist. I insist you leave with me now. There will be time for you to look around tomorrow. With me.”

      He had nothing to hide, but he did have Prairie Rose to protect.

      “Please…I just want some time to pull myself together.”

      “I’ll just keep you company, then.” He folded his arms.

      She looked past his shoulder, out the door of the stall as if trying to figure out how to get away. Annoyed that she’d stopped giving her attention, Pretty dipped her head and nudged Lucy’s hand.

      “She likes you.”

      “I like her.” Lucy pressed her face into the mane again. It was obvious she wasn’t ready to leave yet, and he’d be damned if he’d leave her down here alone. Brody