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      Royalty is their birthright, power and passion are their due!

      ROMANCING THE CROWN: DREW & SAMIRA

      A pregnant princess and a suspicious aristocrat…

      Two exciting, intense stories of regal romance from two favourite authors

      ROMANCING THE CROWN: DREW & SAMIRA

      Her Lord Protector

      EILEEN WILKS

      Secrets of a Pregnant Princess

      CARLA CASSIDY

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Her Lord Protector

      EILEEN WILKS

      ROMANCING THE CROWN

      An explosion near the royal palace of Montebello sets off a frantic manhunt. One that begins with a confrontation between a proud lord and a mysteriously beautiful woman.

      Meet the major players in this royal mystery…

      Lord Andrew “Drew” Harrington: Romancing a suspect is not his usual style – but Rose is not a usual suspect.

      Rosalinda “Rose” Giaberti: Her visions of fire have saved lives, but it will take a very special man to accept everything she is – and to protect her from others’ fears.

      Duke Lorenzo Sebastiani: As head of Montebello’s Royal Intelligence, he will spare no one’s feelings when it comes to keeping the country safe.

      Dear Reader,

      I’ve always tended to take on some of my characters’ traits while writing about them. When I wrote about a super-organised heroine, I bought a planner and actually used it instead of losing it. While writing about a heroine who was much more traditionally feminine than I am, I developed a passion for the colour pink. When a character gets hit over the head, I develop a headache. This is one reason none of my heroines ever suffers from morning sickness – I’m not taking any chances!

      So when I started writing about a woman with a mysterious affinity for fires, I decided to avoid fireplaces and burning candles. Maybe that was excessive, but I’m happy to report that I finished the book without burning anything more than a roast dinner. (Though I did burn that thoroughly.) Maybe I only imagined I had more headaches than usual while writing about a hero who suffers from migraines…of a sort. And it was probably a coincidence that, shortly after I wrote about illness forcing Drew and Rose to stay overnight at an airport hotel, something similar happened to me.

      But I still don’t want to ever give any of my heroines morning sickness. Just in case…

      Happy reading!

       Eileen Wilks

      Prologue

      Gretchen Hanson loved babies. It was their mothers she didn’t have much use for. ‘‘It won’t work,’’ she repeated, stubbing out a cigarette smoked down to a finger-burning butt. The noise level in the honky-tonk let her speak flatly, not bothering to whisper. ‘‘Midwives don’t sign death certificates.’’

      The plump, wide mouth of the woman sitting across from her pursed in a pout. Carnation pink, those lips were tonight. And sulky. ‘‘I can’t believe you’re wimping out on me now, Gretchen. You’re always complaining about how dumb those doctors are. If you don’t think you can fool one of them—’’

      ‘‘I don’t.’’ After all these years, Gretchen knew Ursula Chambers pretty well. Well enough to know that while Ursula’s devious plans could lead Gretchen to a life of luxury, Ursula would have no qualms about using Gretchen as her fall girl if they were caught. And she knew how Ursula saw her. Barbie’s best friend. The girl who would always and forever be second-string, her only claim to glamour the fallout from her friend’s glittery shoulders. In high school, that had been true enough, Gretchen thought grudgingly. But high school was a long time ago. Not that she didn’t still play along sometimes, but secondhand glamour wasn’t worth risking prison over. ‘‘God, girl, get real. There’s no way I could slip her an overdose without anyone noticing. Maybe we should rethink this.’’

      Ursula smiled and leaned forward, the tousled fall of honey-colored hair sliding over one bare shoulder. Her blue eyes were bright with mischief. ‘‘I’ve already thought of a way to get her to have the baby at her damned ranch. I’ll tell her the apartment is going to be sprayed for bugs—she shouldn’t be around all those chemicals, right? You’ll go out there with us. She’s due any day now, so we won’t have to keep her there for long.’’

      The naughty pleasure in those eyes sent a chill up Gretchen’s spine. What had seemed like an acceptable plan months ago suddenly felt all wrong. They were talking about murder, not short-sheeting someone’s bed. Nervously she pulled out another cigarette and tamped down the end. ‘‘There would still be a body to explain.’’

      Ursula rolled her eyes. ‘‘There’s only a body to explain if we tell people about it.’’

      ‘‘You mean…get rid of her. Bury her or something and tell people she left town.’’ Gretchen’s breathing turned shallow and fast. ‘‘It’s a huge risk.’’

      ‘‘It’s a huge amount of money we’re talking about. Remember our plans? Sweetie, we’ll never have to worry about money again. You’ll finally get out of this stupid town, the way you’ve always talked about doing. See new places, buy the kind of pretty things you’ve always wanted. Live the royal life. And don’t forget that you’ll be able to put that half-wit brother of yours in a good home.’’

      ‘‘Gerald isn’t a half-wit. He’s…’’ Gretchen laughed.

      ‘‘He’s dumber than a dog, is all. Drives me crazy sometimes. But he does mind me pretty well.’’ As long as he understood what she wanted… ‘‘It will be nice to live my own life without having to watch out for him all the time.’’ The possibilities glittered in front of Gretchen’s suddenly blank eyes. ‘‘But the risk. If I were caught…’’

      ‘‘I’ve got it all worked out.’’ There was a febrile excitement about Ursula now, as if something was burning her up from the inside. She stretched out a hand and gripped Gretchen’s wrist. A ruby glinted, blood-red, on one finger. ‘‘Think about that poor baby.’’

      ‘‘Huh.’’ Gretchen wasn’t so lost in fantasies that she bought that. ‘‘As if you care about the baby.’’

      ‘‘You care, though. Don’t tell me you don’t. And you know what Jessie has been saying. We’ve talked about all this, Gretchen. She wants to raise her baby all by herself out on the ranch. The poor little thing will never know his father, never know the life he should have had. She’s so selfish, Gretchen!’’

      ‘‘They all are,’’ Gretchen muttered. ‘‘They think they’re getting some pretty doll to dress up, then when the pain hits they start yelling. ‘Get me a doctor,’ they say. Like I’m not good enough—but the only reason they want a doctor is to give them drugs. They don’t care if it’s good for the baby or not. All they think of is themselves.’’

      ‘‘They don’t care like you do.’’ Ursula’s voice was almost a croon. ‘‘Jessie sure doesn’t. She wants to use the baby, that’s what it is. Keep him a secret to pay his father back for dumping her. Is that right? Is that what’s best for the baby? Letting the poor little thing grow up in a dreary house in the middle of nowhere when he could be living in a palace? He’s a prince, Gretchen. But he’ll never know it—unless you help him.’’

      Gretchen’s stomach clenched

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