“I’m sorry. I brought this for Amelia...um...Mrs. Drummond...or should I call her Lady Amelia?”
Amber hadn’t meant to sound so uncertain, but Sir Jensen’s good looks, royal appearance and hoity-toity attitude had nearly knocked her out of her cowboy boots.
His eyes narrowed. “Do you know Mrs. Drummond?”
“Not really. I just—” Before she could explain that she’d only recently moved back home to Horseback Hollow, and that she was Quinn Drummond’s neighbor, the stuffy Brit snatched her package right out of her hands.
“I’ll see that she gets it,” he said. Then he shut the door right in her face.
Of all the nerve. He’d just dismissed her! She had half a notion to lean on the bell until someone else came to the door, someone who knew her. But she merely stood there, gaping, dumbfounded by the man’s rudeness.
Three seconds later—and yes, seconds because she’d counted them off as an attempt to hold her temper—the door swung open again. This time, Jeanne Marie peered out and broke into a smile. “Hi, sweetie. Come on in.”
Amber hesitated. “I’m not so sure I should.” Nor did she want to. Her mother had been longtime friends with Jeanne Marie, but even the woman’s warm welcome couldn’t lessen the insult of the snobby man’s bad manners. What a jerk.
“Don’t pay any mind to Jensen. He’s just an overprotective big brother.”
This was Horseback Hollow—not a Revolutionary War battlefield. What possible threat could Amber be? She was just trying to be neighborly. But she held her tongue before she popped off with something rude herself. Instead, she would graciously drop off the gift and make a proper excuse to leave. Once she’d shut the door, she could turn on her booted heel and stomp off. She’d never have to step foot on the Drummond place until the entire British side of the family—all except Amelia, of course—went back to their side of the pond.
Jeanne Marie took her hand and pulled her into the midst of the bustling holiday revelers. “Look who’s here, everybody!”
Amber never had been what you’d call shy. In fact, as a former rodeo queen and barrel racer, she was used to riding into an arena full speed with her flag flying. But she hadn’t expected to walk into a big ol’ family Christmas celebration.
Heck fire. Yesterday was the twenty-fifth. She’d known better than to show up then.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I hadn’t meant to horn in on your family celebration. I thought by waiting until the twenty-sixth, I’d miss it.”
“With 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
