the Crown Jewels.
“That kiss with Amber Rogers? People are making way too much of it. It was all Amber’s idea, to distract the paparazzi from my sister. She was just doing a favor for a friend. We are just friends. To think that a down-to-earth cowgirl would get together with a fellow like me is—well, it’s pure fiction. A lovely fiction, perhaps. Her long blond hair, those big brown eyes … oh, blimey! We’re. Just. Friends.”
* * *
The Fortunes of Texas: Cowboy Country: Lassoing hearts from across the pond!
Since 2002, USA TODAY bestselling author JUDY DUARTE has written forty books for Mills & Boon® Cherish™, earned two RITA® Award finals, won two Maggies and received a National Reader’s Choice Award. When she’s not cooped up in her writing cave, she enjoys traveling with her husband and spending quality time with her grandchildren. You can learn more about Judy and her books at her website, www.JudyDuarte.com, or at Facebook.com/JudyDuarteNovelist.
To Cindy Kirk, Marie Ferrarella, Michelle Major, Nancy Robards Thompson and Allison Leigh—the amazing authors who took part in The Fortunes of Texas: Cowboy Country.
It was a joy working with each of you. I’d take a trip back to Horseback Hollow with you anytime!
Jensen Fortune Chesterfield slipped out the back door of the small Texas ranch house in which he was staying, hoping to escape the chattering crowd and to find a little peace and quiet.
Inside, his family had gathered to celebrate Christmas on Boxing Day with their new Texas relatives. But he wasn’t in the mood for all the holiday gaiety—and hadn’t been since his father died nearly four years ago.
After Sir Simon Chesterfield suffered a fatal heart attack during a polo match, Jensen had been plagued by a bah-humbug mood that began in December and lasted through the better part of January.
In some ways, he wished he’d stayed in England, but his mother wanted him to join her in Horseback Hollow, where his sister Amelia now lived with her husband, Quinn Drummond.
His mother was staying with her sister, while his younger siblings had rooms at a local bed-and-breakfast. Jensen was staying with Amelia and Quinn. The space was a bit tight, but the arrangement suited him. As he stood in the yard, he took in a deep breath and surveyed the grounds. If you removed the vehicles in the drive, the Drummond ranch would’ve made the perfect Western setting for a cowboy movie. He actually found it quite appealing, but then, he’d always been a fan of classic American Westerns, even the old black-and-white ones he occasionally caught on late-night cable when he couldn’t sleep.
Despite his wealthy London upbringing, he liked being in the country. Plus, with him here and Amelia’s due date fast approaching, he’d be able to watch over her while Quinn was out working the ranch.
Fortunately, her pregnancy had been uneventful as far as medical concerns. But, emotionally, she’d had a time of it early on, when the paparazzi had pounced on her, making her life miserable. And they’d been especially annoying lately. He wouldn’t put it past them to try to infiltrate the family gathering today, which was one reason he was on guard.
He reached inside his pocket and withdrew his gold watch, a habit he’d picked up over the past four years. The treasured heirloom had once belonged to his father, and for some reason, he drew comfort from the weight and the feel of it in his hand.
As the back door squeaked open, Jensen glanced over his shoulder to see his mother stepping out and onto the porch. She was dressed impeccably in a simple forest-green dress and heels, her silver hair coiffed as though her personal stylist had accompanied her on the transatlantic trip to Dallas/Fort Worth and then the quick hop on a charter flight to Lubbock.
“Jensen,” she called. “What are you doing outside when the chill is so frightful?”
“I wanted some fresh air.” To prove the imaginary excuse, he took a deep breath, relishing the brisk winter breeze.
His mother, Lady Josephine, made her way toward him—no doubt concerned about him distancing himself from the others. But he was in Horseback Hollow, wasn’t he? And not out each evening at one of the many parties he’d attend if he was home in London.
Whether she believed it or not, he was actually trying his best to fit in with the numerous Horseback Hollow cousins who were gathered in the house, most of whom he’d only recently met.
His mother frowned—the first sign of distress he’d seen since her arrival in the provincial Western town.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, not at all.” Again he scanned the yard, taking in the barn, the new corral Quinn had built, the old-style windmill that creaked in the breeze. “On the contrary, I was just enjoying the scenery.”
“I see,” she said, yet her frown failed to lighten. “Are you disappointed about us celebrating together?”
His mother had always known she was adopted, but two years ago, she learned that she’d actually been a triplet. Her brother, James Marshall Fortune, had remained with his birth family. But the two baby girls, Josephine and Jeanne Marie, had been given up and raised in separate households.
“No, Mum. I’m not bothered. I was actually out here counting my blessings.”
And if truth be told, that’s exactly what he should be doing. He wasn’t a loner by nature, but he hated the melancholy that seemed to hover over him during the family get-togethers, especially those associated with the holidays. That’s why, at least in December, he preferred to stay in London, where the nightlife, parties and his many social obligations kept him busy and distracted.
She reached out and gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “We truly have been blessed, haven’t we?” Her blue eyes twinkled, and a wistful smile chased away her frown. “I had a lovely childhood, although it was a bit lonely with no siblings. I still can’t believe I have a sister and brother—and so many nieces and nephews. Imagine, me—a Yank!”
As if on cue, little Kylie Fortune Jones, Toby and Angie’s youngest, popped her head out the door. “It’s time to open presents. Are you coming to watch, Aunt Joseph...iiine...I mean, Aunt Lady?”
His mother laughed. “Aunt Josephine will do just fine, love. And we’ll be right there.”
The title of lady had been honorific, but many of the local Texans were excited to have “royalty” in their midst and tended to make more out of it than Jensen or the rest of the family liked. The press and paparazzi did too, often referring to him and his siblings as sirs, lords or ladies, when neither of their parents’ titles had been inherited.
“Isn’t Kylie precious?” Josephine said. “I love having young children around again, especially at Christmas.”
His mother had always begun her holiday preparations—the shopping, as well as overseeing the decorating and baking—on the first of December. In fact,
