Martha Shields - The Princess And The Cowboy

Dear Reader,

Compelling, emotionally charged stories featuring honorable heroes, strong heroines and the deeply rooted conflicts they must overcome to arrive at a happily-ever-after are what make a Silhouette Romance novel come alive. Look no further than this month’s offerings for stories to sweep you away.…

In Johnny’s Pregnant Bride, the engaging continuation of Carolyn Zane’s THE BRUBAKER BRIDES, an about-to-be-married cattle rancher honorabl claims another woman—and another man’s baby—as his own. This month’s VIRGIN BRIDES title by Martha Shields shows that when The Princess and the Cowboy agree to a marriage of convenience, neither suspects the other’s real identity…or how difficult not falling in love will be! In Truly, Madly, Deeply, Elizabeth August delivers a powerful transformation tale, in which a vulnerable woman finds her inner strength and outward beauty through the love of a tough-yet-tender single dad and his passel of kids.

And Then He Kissed Me by Teresa Southwick shows the romantic aftermath of a surprising kiss between best friends who’d been determined to stay that way. A runaway bride at a crossroads finds that Weddings Do Come True when the right man comes along in this uplifting novel by Cara Colter. And rounding out the month is Karen Rose Smith with a charming story whose title says it all: Wishes, Waltzes and a Storybook Wedding.

Enjoy this month’s titles—and keep coming back to Romance, a series guaranteed to touch every woman’s heart.

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Debra Dixon, my friend and mentor.

Special thanks to Dr. Stephen W. Pruitt, Professor of Finance at the University of Memphis, for help with financial information.

grew up telling stories to her sister to pass time on the long drives to their grandparents’ house. Since she’s never been able to stop dreaming up characters, she’s thrilled to share her stories with a wider audience. Martha lives in Memphis, Tennessee, with her husband, teenage daughter and a cairn “terror” who keeps trying to live up to his Toto ancestry. Martha has a master’s degree in journalism and works at a local university.

You can keep up with Martha’s new releases via her web site, which can be reached via the Harlequin/Silhouette author page at www.romance.net.

Dear Reader,

VIRGIN BRIDE. Such a notion may seem archaic in today’s world, and virginity irrelevant. Virgins older than eighteen are regarded as rare at best and bizarre at worst.

Yet…think of the strength of character it takes to remain a virgin. Graphic sex is depicted blatantly on television, in movies—even in commercials. On top of this, the peer pressure urging a young woman to lose her innocence is enormous.

Even so, VIRGIN BRIDES do still exist. There are young women who believe in themselves so strongly, who are so committed to the family they one day will have, that they resist all the pressures today’s world exerts. It’s this kind of strength, this kind of courage that makes women heroines.

To all of the women who are or will be or once were VIRGIN BRIDES, I salute you!

Love to all,

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

“You’ve got to help me find a husband!”

Princess Joséphene Eugénie Béatrix Marguerite Isabeau Francoeur didn’t try to hide the desperation in her voice as she locked the bedroom door of her American friend, Melissa Porter, behind them. She didn’t want to chance Madame Savoie—the dragon lady who doubled as her maid—walking in on them.

The princess had visited Melissa often enough here at the prosperous Porter ranch outside Auburn, California to feel at home in any room in the two-story house, but Melissa’s room was where they’d been solving their problems for over ten years. She was counting on that now.

When she turned, however, her redheaded friend’s green eyes were wide with shock. “Husband? I’m the one who’ll have a husband, Josie. You’re here for my wedding, remember? Maid of honor. That ring a bell?”

Josie. Though she’d thought of herself by the nickname ever since Melissa first used it when they became roommates at an exclusive British boarding school, her friend was the only one who called her that. The sound felt good in her ears—like she’d come home.

But home was half a world away. Slightly larger than Martha’s Vineyard, her tiny island country—officially called the Principality of Montclaire—lay in the Mediterranean, a hundred and thirty-eight kilometers off the southern coast of France.

“No, my mind is still where it always was.” Josie sat on the king-size bed and tucked a leg underneath her. “What’s more, he has to be rich—I’m talking in the Forbes top five hundred—and we have to find him before your wedding. I can’t go home until I’m married.”

“Find a filthy-rich husband? In five days? For a princess? Are you nuts?” Melissa plopped onto her bed. “All right, spill it. What’s Bonifay done this time?”

Gilbert Bonifay was the chief minister of Montclaire. Richelieu in modern clothing.

“He’s found an ancient law, made by Louis Francoeur himself. It seems my ancestor’s son was fonder of men than women, if you understand my meaning. Prince Louis passed the law to force him to marry, to secure heirs to the throne.”

“What is this law?” Melissa asked.

“Heirs to the throne have to marry by their twenty-fifth birthday.”

Melissa’s jaw dropped. “That’s only three weeks away. Why hasn’t Bonifay brought this up before now?”

“He says it’s because Montclaire’s economy is in such shambles—which it is. But I think it’s mostly so he can exercise his control over me.”

“I bet he already has a husband picked out for you, doesn’t he?”

Josie swallowed hard, but it didn’t rid her of the bitter taste in her mouth when she thought of her fiancé. “His name is Alphonse Picquet. He’s the fifth richest man in France. He prides himself on having worked his way up in Marseille from an arrimeur… What is the word in English?”

Melissa wrinkled her nose. “Stevedore.”

Josie grabbed her friend’s hand. “He’s older than my father, Melissa. He’s big and fat and bald and ugly—and he’s going to ruin Montclaire.”

“Ruin it? How?”

“One of the shepherds overheard his men talking at the north end of the island. They’ve found a rich supply of marble. When Monsieur Picquet becomes prince, he’s going to quarry it. His surveys discovered that nearly the entire island is made of top-grade stone. In twenty years, Montclaire will be one huge pit.”

“And I’m sure he’ll make Bonifay rich in the process. What a sneaky, rat-faced…” Melissa peered at her closely. “You did check this out, right? There really is such a law?”

Josie nodded miserably. “It was in the historical archives, in a dusty book of law dated 1437.”

“Tell me one thing. If the Princess of Montclaire is getting married, why isn’t the story all over the television and newspapers?”

“I convinced my father to keep Bonifay from making the announcement until after I returned. I told him how impolite it would be to upstage your wedding. Appearances, you know.” Josie smiled sadly. Appearances were all her father cared about. “It was the only concession I could get.”

“Dang.” Melissa shook her head in disgust. “You do need a husband, don’t you?”

“It’s my fault. After I graduated, I should’ve insisted on taking the reins of government. I should’ve wrested them away from Bonifay. But you know how much I hate being a princess. I was content to spend the days with my horses. I told myself I didn’t know the first thing about ruling. I’ve never been taught the most rudimentary procedures. Bonifay saw to that. It wasn’t hard for him to convince Papa I’d be more valuable as Montclaire’s window dressing. That’s all I’ve been—a well-dressed objet d’art, trotted out on special occasions to represent my country.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Josie. You couldn’t have known. It’s your father’s fault, not yours. He’s the prince.”

Tears burned Josie’s eyes as she thought of her father. Poor befuddled man. He’d spent the last twenty years in a fog of grief, staring at the deep blue depths of the sea that had claimed the life of her mother. His black hair had turned to silver that very night, some said. She had to admit it heightened his royal appearance.

Appearance was all there was to her father, though. He would rouse himself from his grief long enough to talk to visiting dignitaries—because that was for appearances. But that’s all he’d do. Ruling the country held no interest for him. She held no interest for him. His only child.

So Bonifay was the de facto Prince of Montclaire.

“If only I hadn’t been such a coward, I would’ve done something before now. I would’ve found a rich husband who would help my people, not make their home a rock pit.”

Melissa grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Josie. We’ll find you a rich husband. Dad’s invited some of his business friends to the wedding. He’s not just a rancher, you know. You have to invest in more than cows these days, just to keep the cows in feed. Anyway, if one of them won’t do, surely they’ll know someone who will.”

Josie hugged Melissa close and felt a weight lift from her heart. Ever since Bonifay informed her three days ago of the marriage he’d planned, she’d been counting the minutes until she arrived in California. She knew the only true friend she’d ever had would help her.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Josie tugged at the outrageous blond wig Melissa had yanked down over her black hair.

“No,” her friend said. “But do you have any other choice?”

Josie sighed. “You were just married. I’m supposed to be helping you change. Not the other way around.”

“You did. It took exactly nine minutes for me to step out of my wedding gown and into this dress.” Melissa waved her concerns away. “I’m ready to go. Now we have to make sure you are.”

Her heart beating dully with dread at what she had to do, Josie studied her reflection in her best friend’s dresser mirror. A stranger stared back at her. “I look like…like…”

“Like trailer-park trash? This is perfect. You look enough like my cousin Betty Jo to pass right by your bodyguards.”

Melissa scrutinized Josie’s image in the mirror. “The Versace gown detracts from the trailer trash image, I know, but that doesn’t matter, since it’s what all eleven of the bridesmaids were wearing. It being a different color from yours will help fool them. Just remember—don’t let them get a good look at your face, and giggle all the way to the stables. Like you’re going there to have hot sex with a man.”

Josie had long ago stopped blushing when Melissa mentioned hot sex with a man. Sex was one subject her friend never tired of. And to tell the truth, Josie liked hearing her talk. After all, sex once-removed was better than no sex at all.

Josie met her friend’s eyes in the mirror. “Are you sure I’m doing the right thing?”

Melissa stopped fussing with the wig, pushed Josie’s excess skirts out of the way, and sat down next to her on the dresser bench, facing her. “We’ve talked and talked and talked, and haven’t been able to come up with a better plan. If only Dad knew more bachelors—but I guess most of the people his age are married. And the younger ones are all living on their parents’ money or have jobs, so they won’t do. If only we’d had more time, I could’ve—”