CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

JUSTIN

February

Justin shrugged into his heavy winter coat as six dogs eagerly pranced and bounced around his feet, their tails whipping back and forth. They were hungry, and he couldn't blame them. The cow-shaped wall clock in the kitchen claimed it was past five in the afternoon. Earlier, Aunt Katie had gone into town on a supply run. Justin's day had been gloriously uneventful. After doing laundry and folding clothes, he'd headed upstairs to take a short nap. The nap had lasted almost five hours.

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawned again. The dogs stared up at him pleadingly. Dinner was twenty minutes late, and their sad-doggie eyes had him feeling guilty for oversleeping.

He grabbed the plastic tub of dog food and stepped from the farmhouse's back door threshold to the screened-in porch. A mild but very cold wind blew through the porch screens and stung his skin.

The dogs scampered and crowded around him as if afraid he might escape without feeding them. Justin moved slowly and carefully, constantly saying things like, "Careful, guys," "Take it easy. Easy. Easy!" and "I know I'm late, but stop acting like you're starving to death. There's plenty for everyone."

The dogs might not understand his chiding, but at least Aunt Katie had them pretty well trained. They never jumped on him, and any bumping they did was unintentional. Then again, in his state, even an unintentional bump from a big dog was nothing to sneeze at.

He was seven months pregnant. Week twenty-eight if he had his math right, which wasn't guaranteed because it was math. He was round. He was sluggish. He moved like a semi with two trailers backing up in a parking lot full of expensive cars. He'd been lithe his entire life, but now, if he wasn't constantly careful, he'd crash into something or knock over knickknacks with his protruding belly. He wasn't all that confident in the distribution of the weight he carried, either. If his ass had grown significantly bigger to provide a counterweight for his belly, that would've been one thing. But he was excessively frontloaded. He always felt like a tipping hazard if he didn't lean back a little, which made his back ache if he spent too much time on his feet.

His breath clouded around his face as he pried off the plastic tub's lid. His cheeks prickled from the bitter cold. February was the worst month. Dark, cold days, and a person grew so tired of the freezing temperatures, the ice, and the lingering snow. Even a slight breeze could chill you to the marrow. Spring had never seemed farther away.

He carefully scooped doggy chow into the six bowls arranged on the back porch, the only place in the house big enough for all the dogs to eat at the same time. Getting the dog food into the bowls was not as easy as it might sound. The dogs got so enthusiastic that they shoved their head in to begin eating the moment the first bits hit the bowl, which sometimes knocked the scoop and sent dog food pieces clattering to the worn floorboards. He had to sweep up after they finished eating because you definitely didn't want to attract vermin on a farm. Especially not a creamery, where there were serious health department inspections. No wonder his aunt brought in a cat to help out.

By the time Justin finished filling the last of the bowls, the dogs had forgotten he existed. They were completely focused on inhaling food like canine vacuum cleaners. He wished them bon appétit and put the plastic tub on one of the porch tables. He snapped on the lid again and let out a long breath.

Mission accomplished. Afternoon dog feeding complete. So why did he feel like he needed another nap?

It had to be mental. His body couldn't still be tired. These days, Justin made it through one task at a time, but he made it. He might be big, round, and very pregnant, but he was determined to continue helping any way he could. He'd even become pretty good at the cheese-making parts. His favorite part was still dipping cheese wheels into red wax. There was something oddly satisfying about it. Slapping on the Cheddar Wolf Farm stickers with their yellow wolf and moon logo and nutritional information was another part he liked. It felt like giving each individual cheese the farm's stamp of approval.

He realized he was standing on the porch in the freezing cold while thinking about cheese and vaguely listening to the atrocious sounds of six dogs eating as fast as they could. He yawned again. Yep. There was no denying it. He was definitely not getting enough unbroken sleep with all these vivid dreams. He had at least one of these "new dreams" every two or three days. They were so powerful that they'd turned him into a daylight zombie.

He hadn't told his aunt about the dreams—not specifically—but he'd admitted to sleeping poorly. Earlier today, she'd urged him to talk to his obstetrician about it. He'd been caught yawning as he helped load her truck with dozens of insulated packages of vacuum-sealed cheeses wrapped in gel ice packs. He'd agreed, but how did you tell your doctor that a wolf goddess might be sending you erotic dreams to prove your mate was indeed your mate? He didn't think a human would understand.

The fact that his aunt was worried about him made him feel guilty. She was anxious over Brin's warning too. She tried to hide it from him, but she couldn't.

Just thinking about feeling guilty made him feel guiltier for causing distress, being a problem, not helping enough, costing her money, and on and on. Maybe he was simply exhausted, but these days, Justin had bucket loads of guilt. Milk cans full of it. Guilt for getting pregnant and setting all of this in motion. Guilt for leaving Richard when Richard didn't know Justin was carrying his daughter. Even knowing the child's gender made him feel guilty because he would be the one deciding on their daughter's name, and Richard would have no say in it.

He sighed and rested a hand on the swell of his belly not at all hidden by his gigantic coat.

"How about we head back inside and stop feeling sorry for ourselves, little one?" he said to the basketball bulge, for lack of a more appealing term, under his hand.

His big belly made sleeping comfortably a challenge, but touching the swell always made him feel as if he was touching his child. It was a comfort, a connection. It made the guilt fade into the back of his mind. It might linger like a shadow, but shadows could also be ignored.

Justin hefted the dog-food tub, intending to head back inside where it was warm. The dogs could get back in through the doggie door when they were done devouring to their heart's content.

A bright-red sedan suddenly appeared on the dirt driveway, rocketing from beyond the aspen trees bordering the farm. Justin froze in place, staring at the car with his heart pounding as fast as a rabbit's. The cows grazing in the north pasture looked up in unison as the red sedan tore down the road, tires flinging two-day-old snow slush and mud.

He stood there watching the car close in with wide eyes, still holding the plastic container but no longer feeling its considerable weight. For a moment—just an instant, really—part of his mind was absolutely certain of one thing. It's Richard…

That thought made his stomach do somersaults, and he heard the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. He even took a step toward the porch door.

But no, Richard wouldn't be showing up in some random normal car like any other person. The crown prince would arrive in one of those security vehicles or a limo. He was royalty. Even a trip to a cheese farm would be made in security and style.

This had to be someone else. Someone who had gotten past the gate somehow.

This is what Brin warned you about. She warned you danger was coming.

His wolf rose to full attention inside his mind, alert and anxious but ready to bite. If this were another "bear" that life was throwing his way, it wouldn't find him easy prey. As the child inside him had grown, his omega wolf had steadily grown fiercer.

The red car continued to the far end of the clearing between the farmhouse and the barn and outbuildings. The brake lights flared red and then vanished. The car sat there, its engine ticking as it cooled. Justin tried to see inside and couldn't. The western sun was low enough that its glare and the reflection of the sky made seeing inside impossible from this angle.

His fear deepened, the bitter taste coating his throat. The dogs usually ran around barking whenever someone arrived, but the dogs were so focused on their food that they didn't immediately charge out and make the ruckus he would've welcomed.

Justin opened his mouth to order them to go out there and scare off the stranger. His voice came out as a weak croak, not the resounding command he intended.

Aunt Katie wasn't here to help him, like before with the bear. His bravado at growing stronger to protect his child suddenly flickered like a dying light bulb. He was afraid, not for himself, but for his baby.

Had Aunt Katie forgotten to lock the gate? Had this stranger in his strange car somehow broken through? Should Justin shift into his wolf and run or fight, or should he hide in the house until the man left or Aunt Katie returned?

So many questions fluttered and flapped in his brain like terrified birds. He didn't know the answer to any of them. He stood there paralyzed, unable to decide.

The car door swung open, and a male climbed out. The stranger was tall and lanky. He wore a dark blue down coat with a hood, jeans, and hiking boots. He wore blue gloves, which seemed alarming—like something you'd wear not to leave fingerprints at a future murder scene. The stranger had an average, everyman face, but his mustache stood out. It was a prime example of a Burt Reynolds mustache. Justin immediately didn't trust it.

The stranger stared at the barn with his hands on his hips. He looked at the cows—Bell, Nellie, and Ukie—who had ambled over to the pasture fence to stare back at him. Then the stranger turned toward the farmhouse. He spotted Justin on the screened-in porch and raised a hand. It was a friendly little wave. A perfectly brisk, jaunty, and non-serial killer, omega-hating-psycho wave.

Justin stepped closer to one of the window screens and shouted, "Go away!"

The man's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't take the hint. Instead, he raised both hands and slowly approached the house. Justin caught the stranger's scent in the chill breeze.

Definitely a wolf shifter. Was that good or bad? He was going to assume bad. Brin's warning flashed in his mind like a neon sign. He took a step backward toward the door.

The dogs had either eaten enough or were distracted enough by the stress in his voice and the fear in his scent to finally leave off their feast. They caught the stranger's scent and shot out of the porch doggie door one at a time, big dogs leading the charge, barking and baying like hellhounds.

The stranger stopped short as six dogs bore down on him. He didn't break and run; Justin had to give him that. He stood very still as the dogs partially ringed him, growling and barking and snarling.

He glanced at the farmhouse again and spoke in a reasonable voice that didn't sound worried enough. "Justin, will you call off your pack? I'm only here to talk."

"Go away!" The man knew his name. That was terrifying. Should he call the police? Or should he find his aunt's rifle? It would take time for the sheriffs to get out here.

"I assume I can quote you on that," the stranger replied. "You've said it twice now."

Oh, Goddess, was this some kind of reporter? Here at the worst possible time, too. Aunt Katie was gone, and she didn't even own a cell phone he could call to let her know the news media had invaded.

"How did you find me?" he shouted, not stepping out from the dubious safety of the screened-in porch. The door was flimsy and had a big-dog-sized rectangle cut in it, but right now, it was better than nothing.

"My name is Luke Brown. I'm an investigative reporter. It's my job to track things down. Investigate, you understand. You aren't exactly in the witness protection program. All I had to do was dig a little to find you."

"What do you want?" He intended to sound tough and intimidating. His voice only sounded frightened and desperate. A trapped wolf whining in fear.

The reporter didn't answer directly. Instead, he slowly shook his head in amazement. "I'll be damned. You're actually pregnant."

Icy shock surged through Justin in a drowning tide. He stepped back from the screen, cursing himself for his stupid carelessness. He was wearing his heavy coat, but there was no mistaking his shape.

"Don't try and hide it now," the reporter called, sounding amused. "Everyone knows you're an omega, and I can see your belly from here, plain as day. I'd guess…eight months along?"

Seven, but he wasn't about to correct the bastard. His tongue felt like it had swelled so thick that it was in danger of choking him. This man was a wolf shifter and a reporter. He'd tracked Justin to Wisconsin, and worse, he'd seen for himself that Justin was pregnant.

This had to be the danger Brin warned him about. The man knew Justin's secret, and reporters never kept secrets.

"Go away!" he desperately yelled at the top of his lungs. "There's a gun!"

"Believe me, I'm not interested in being shot, Justin. I'm just a harmless little reporter, freelance these days." He shrugged and did a little bow that was technically all wrong. Justin knew. He'd had to practice bowing. "I specialize in pack politics. Scandals. Corruption. Malfeasance. I want your story. Will you talk to me?"

"No!"

Luke Brown smiled and stepped toward the house again. The dogs immediately began to snarl and bark. The reporter abruptly halted. "It's hard to converse like civilized people when we have to shout over these dogs."

"They know you're not supposed to be here. How did you get past the gate?"

"Bolt cutters."

The man's utter nonchalance about admitting it left Justin staggered. "You cut our chain to trespass?"

"I've come a very long way to talk with you about Majinette Brin Edwards and Prince Richard Hargreave."

Richard's name stabbed Justin like an icicle through the heart. Any words he might've said immediately died on his lips. He simply stood there, struck dumb, with his hands clasped protectively over his belly. The little girl pup inside kicked and turned, a feeling both odd and magical, a sensation both inside his body and one he felt with his hands. It was as if the cub knew her other father was being discussed.

"What they did to you was wrong, Justin," the reporter continued implacably.

"You don't know anything about it!" But Justin's thoughts immediately veered to Brin and everything she'd told him. That Richard was still his intended mate. That she'd been framed and run out of the majinette dreamers so that another mate could be chosen for the crown prince. Not to mention her repeated warnings of danger—

"Maybe you're right," Luke Brown said. "Why don't you call off your dogs and tell me what happened. The world deserves to know the truth."

Justin stood there uncertainly. Part of him wanted to know what this man knew. At the same time, he couldn't stop panicking that a reporter now knew he was pregnant with Prince Richard's child, and there was no way Justin could beg, bribe, or threaten the other shifter into silence. And if the king found out… If Richard found out… What would happen then?

He was terrified of the answer. He had a bad feeling that it would be messy and that maybe all this heartbreak was only beginning.

The reporter raised his hands higher in the air and stepped closer to the porch. He stopped yet again as the dogs loosed another volley of growls and snarls, but he was one step closer to Justin, wasn't he? The reporter kept his attention on Justin, not the dogs, trying to win a battle of wills and cow Justin into talking with him. "You don't trust me. I get it. But if the world knows your story, the truth will protect you."

"That's easy for you to say." He didn't feel protected. He felt extremely vulnerable, especially right now.

"You're right, it is." The reporter took another step toward him. "But sunlight's the best disinfectant, Justin. I have a source inside the palace, so I know I'm not just chasing ghosts. I've been chasing this story since they framed Brin Edwards and replaced her with Pirchet Aarden, the king's toady." Luke's face darkened. "You're caught in the heart of this mess, and I'm sorry about that. It was never about the Goddess. Or love. It was about abuse of power, corruption, and lies."

Justin closed his eyes, feeling his hands shake. He wanted to believe the man's words. But one question elbowed its way to the front of his mind. "Is Richard…is he married yet? To his new…mate?"

"He's still betrothed to Prince Peter Rainier from a powerful Seattle wolf pack. They wed in May."

Justin had tried to steel himself against hearing the truth. After all, Brin had told him as much, which should've inoculated him against the pain.

It didn't.

Luke Brown took another step toward the house, braving the dogs. "Talk to me, Justin. Help me expose this. Otherwise, you'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. Trust me."

Justin drew in a breath to reply, but a roaring engine distracted them both. His answer was left unsaid as Aunt Katie's truck raced up the driveway, speeding toward the house. The truck's big tires flung muddy snowmelt behind it, coating the flaps, the wheel wells, and the sides of the truck. They both stared in alarm as the truck braked hard and skidded to a stop thirty or so feet from the reporter.

Aunt Katie flung herself from the truck cab, slamming the door behind her. Her eyes were wild and anger radiated from her like heat. She stormed toward the stranger, not even wearing her winter coat in the biting cold. As she moved, she grabbed her sweater, yanked it off, and flung it aside. She was reaching for the T-shirt underneath when Justin realized she intended to shift into her wolf and attack.

He wanted the reporter gone, but he definitely didn't want his aunt in jail for savaging the guy. Justin fumbled for the latch lock on the screen door, his fingers feeling clumsy and numb. He finally managed to get it open and hurried down the steps, taking care to clutch the metal railing. It was painfully cold, but he gripped it hard. Falling was one of many things he feared these days.

"Aunt Katie!" he shouted, raising his free hand to her. "Wait!"

She slowed to a halt and looked his way. Her eyes burned with territorial fury, but that ferocity wasn't directed at him. The reporter, however, shifted his weight uneasily. He raised his hands again, trying not to seem threatening. The dogs had been barking, growling, and snarling whenever the reporter moved, but now they looked to his aunt for marching orders.

"Are you okay?" she called to him. He could still see the wolf in her eyes, but speaking had given her human side an edge. She was in control. His relief left him feeling momentarily weak. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. He says he wants to talk."

"That's right," the reporter agreed, his tone placating. "I'm Luke Brown, an investigative reporter. I came to hear Justin's side of a story I'm chasing down."

Aunt Katie glared daggers at him. "Why shouldn't I shoot you for cutting my chain and trespassing on my land? Do you not know what country you're in? Seeing you on my turf is like having you piss on my gate."

Luke's smile was uneasy. "You must be Katie Turner. Perhaps I came for a tour of Cheddar Wolf Farms? Those are some fine-looking cows you have over there."

"You're a damn fool and you've got a mouth on you." Aunt Katie turned away from the reporter and marched toward Justin as he stood at the bottom of the porch steps and clutched the metal railing. She whistled sharply. The dogs broke their half-encirclement and hurried to her side.

The reporter seemed disturbed that she had turned her back on him and was heading into the house. Probably because she'd been talking about shooting. Justin almost felt sorry for him. Not that he actually believed his aunt would capriciously shoot a person. She hadn't even claimed her revenge on the bear that had mauled Yipper. But the reporter didn't know that.

"The world deserves to hear what Justin has to say," Luke Brown called after her a bit frantically. "He was cut loose for political reasons. The king never approved of an omega commoner. If Justin still loves Prince Richard, now is the time to tell the world. I'll give him the biggest megaphone he could ever want. Trust me, everyone on this continent will know what happened, whether they want to or not."

"If he still loves Prince Richard…"

Suddenly, it was as if Justin were back in Altaden, meeting Richard that night in the garden when Richard told him that Justin wasn't his mate. The sorrow, the loss, the humiliation—all the wounds he'd worked to heal—were ripped open again.

"You really are as dumb as a post, aren't you?" his aunt snarled at the reporter. "He doesn't want to talk to you. I'm not going to stand here and let my nephew be exploited. Not by those bloody wolves back in New England. Certainly not by you. You understand me?"

The reporter ignored her, his gaze locking on Justin. "What would you say to Richard if you could tell him anything at all, Justin? Would you tell him you're carrying his child?"

"That's enough, goddammit!" Aunt Katie shouted. She started for the reporter again, her fists clenched. The dogs wheeled about and formed up at her side, growling menacingly. "Get out of here! Scoot your boots! Get the fuck out!"

This time, the reporter obeyed. Maybe he could smell the raw, electrical-fire scent of her fury. Maybe he realized he'd pushed things to the limit and still wasn't going to get what he wanted.

It might've been a different story if Aunt Katie hadn't shown up when she did, Justin found himself thinking. He might not have been able to resist hearing more about Richard. Or about the omega wolf Richard was going to marry instead of him…

That chance vanished with the retreating reporter. The two of them and the dogs watched as the stranger backed up, swung a half circle in the clearing, and headed down the dirt road toward the highway. He didn't bother waving. It was a measure of his aunt's control that not one of the dogs left her side to chase the car to the gate.

Aunt Katie turned back to him, and her gaze softened. A muscle in her neck twitched. She touched her throat and winced. Her voice was raspy, jagged. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I had no idea anything like this would happen."

He put on a smile, touched to see that she cared so deeply. "The dogs were here to protect me. When they finally finished eating, that is."

She snorted and shot a critical glance at the pooches. "That right, fellas? You put your stomachs ahead of security? You can all easily be replaced, you know."

The dogs managed to look chagrinned. There were a few slow tail wags and more than a few cases of mournful puppy eyes. His aunt made a disgusted noise at the dogs and moved to stand beside Justin.

"Listen, I've got to go put another chain on that gate or Hell alone knows who else is going to bother us." She glared down the driveway toward the birches and aspens hiding the rural road. "That bastard, coming here like that. He's got more balls than brains. Next time, I'll be sure to shoot those first."

Justin put a hand on his belly, fear thrumming in his veins. His words were bleak. "That reporter didn't know I was pregnant when he came here, but now he does. He raced up when I was feeding the dogs and caught me on the back porch."

She pulled him into a gentle hug. It was a little awkward because of his shape, but still good.

"Can't be helped. I only wish some people had a scrap of decency and a dose of discretion. But wishing never did anyone any good." She let him go and shook her head. "Take right now, for instance. I wish I'd shot him for a rat before he could spread whatever gossip-rag news he peddles to people better off not knowing."

He was maybe eighty-five percent certain his aunt was exaggerating about shooting the reporter, but he wasn't going to pursue it. "It's worse than gossip stuff. He said he was an investigative reporter. He said it wasn't hard to track me here. That's two people who have found me."

His aunt rubbed a hand over her mouth. She was still standing in her shirt, jeans, and boots, her sweater lying in a crumpled pile on the muddy snow. Her skin looked waxy pale, and her eyes were troubled. But she didn't answer him.

"Do you think I need to run?" Justin pressed. "This has to be the danger Brin warned us about."

"She could've been a hell of a lot more specific. That would've been nice. And that obnoxious reporter wasn't all that scary. It's the fact that he knows you're pregnant. That's a problem."

Panic started to gnaw at him. "I don't know what to do."

His prospects hadn't improved. If he fled, where would he go that might be safe? Canada? He spoke French about as well as he spoke Cantonese, which was not at all. Sure, people spoke English there too, but how would he even begin a journey like that broke, alone, and a foreigner? It wasn't as if he owned a car or could afford a plane ticket. He didn't have a passport. He'd given up his U.S. citizenship to join the Kingdom of Altaden. Maybe he could apply for asylum. Did people do that in Canada?

"You're certainly not going on the lam in your last trimester," Aunt Katie said sharply. "Besides, this is the U.S.A. You can't just up and kidnap people and take them to another nation. There are rules."

Justin didn't say anything. There might be rules, but he doubted King Frederick Hargreave intended to follow them. And if the king didn't, who would rush to defend him? He couldn't exactly afford an attorney.

"That reporter said the truth would protect me. Maybe if I made it all public and helped him with his story… He was talking about corruption—"

"He was barking anything he could think of to keep talking to you. Man like that takes the truth and stretches it like taffy until you have no idea what the hell it is anymore."

"Brin talked about corruption too. Maybe I need to do something."

"You need to not put a target on your back, that's what you need. You got that daughter to think about. She's all that matters. You were afraid they'd take her from you. Has that changed?"

He shook his head no. But maybe if the world knew he carried the prince's child, it would somehow protect him and his daughter. Give them some rights. Or was he hopelessly na?ve? More likely, an entire army of Hargreave lawyers would descend and take his daughter through the courts. It would be even easier because he was no longer a U.S. citizen. Could you reclaim your citizenship after giving it up? He had no idea. Would this country even want a person like him back?

"I think we missed our window for you leaving," Aunt Katie said grimly. "I'd happily give you everything in the bank to get you somewhere safe, but this close to your due date…" She covered her mouth again, breath-steam leaking through her fingers. "No, I think we have to dig in here. I'll hire lawyers. Fancy lawyers, not that two-bit hack Martin Williams in town who's good for nothing but ambulance chasing."

"I don't want to keep costing you so much money—"

"Stop," she said, cutting him off like a verbal cleaver. "These ears don't want to hear that. You're my nephew. You're bringing another little Turner into the world. Your father would be proud of you, I know it. This is the least I can do."

His father would be proud. She was right about that, but it was good to hear it all the same. His father would've understood, especially after being a single parent himself. Goddess, he suddenly missed his dad with an ache so intense that it twisted his insides into knotted rope. His eyes blurred with tears.

One of the dogs nuzzled his hand. He looked down to see Pepper staring up at him with sympathy. He smiled and petted her, taking a little joy from her wagging tail.

His aunt was right. He couldn't leave. That ship had sailed. Besides, who would feed all these dogs and help his aunt make cheese? This was home. Why should he lose two homes in less than a year? What god or goddess could be that cruel?

"So," he said, blowing out a long breath of steam into the cold Wisconsin air. "I guess lawyers it is." He grinned. "Never thought I'd hear you consider finding a lawyer."

She snorted. "They're easy to rag on until you need one to save your bacon. Listen, I'll head back into town tomorrow and use the computers at the library. I won't quit until I find some lawyer or law firm that can help us." She gave him a smirk. "We'll turn you into a cause."

"That sounds terrible."

"Of course it's terrible, but humans love causes. At least for as long as you can keep their attention, which isn't easy. As distractible as cats, the lot of 'em."

Justin nodded absently as he stared across the clearing toward the road hidden from view by the trees. Beyond their gate, the world seemed menacing and merciless.

Aunt Katie put a hand on his shoulder. "I know this rattled you. Did the same for me. But we got lucky."

He shot her an incredulous look. "How are we lucky?"

"That ‘danger' Brin was going on about wasn't a bunch of goons from the palace here to grab you."

The chill that ran through him had nothing to do with the cold air. "Not yet. What happens when they find out I'm pregnant?"

"They won't hurt that child you carry," his aunt said. "She has royal blood."

But Justin saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes, and her scent held the faintest thread of worry. For the first time since he'd arrived, he suspected she wasn't being completely straight with him.

"She's going to be a bastard," he replied. "When was history ever kind to them?"

"She's a girl," his aunt said sharply. "She'll be our princess, not theirs. Remember, we're wolves with our own pack." She jerked her thumb at the dogs pacing the clearing as if belatedly searching for other trespassing strangers.

That, at least, made him smile. Fine. She would be his little princess. A Turner princess, not a Hargreave one.

"Besides, I intend to make a few plans," his aunt continued. "The sheriff isn't exactly Walker Texas Ranger, but he's a decent enough fellow. I'll talk with him. And there's my rifle, don't forget." She threw Justin for a loop when she suddenly grinned and winked at him. "And none of those noble snobs are scarier than a bear. So just you remember that."

He tried to smile back and believed he managed decently enough. Still, his heart remained heavy, and worry gnawed at him. He couldn't help but wonder what Richard would say when he found out that Justin was carrying his child.

He'll hate me. He'll hate me even more because he'll believe I lied to him. A lie by omission, at the very least. He will never forgive me for not telling him the truth.

Maybe that was too harsh, too bleak, but Justin would soon find out for himself. Everything would change forever when the reporter broke the news that Justin was pregnant with Prince Richard's child. There would be a firestorm. Justin's life on the farm would no longer be shelter for him. His old wounds would be ripped open again and again, just like they had been today. He had no choice but to face it.

Yet, the question haunted him. What will Richard do?

He loved the man, even after all this time, but he didn't have an answer.

"Come on," his aunt said gently. "Head inside. Put on some tea for us. I'll lock that damn gate again, then I'll make some dinner. We'll watch TV and eat on trays. What do you say?"

"Okay," he replied, then hesitated. His aunt loved true crime shows, but the thought of watching one of those now threatened to make him break out in hives. "Can we not watch the murder shows? I'm kind of not in the mood."

"Yeah, I think we're done with the true crime stuff. At least until this bullshit is over." She hugged him again. "Take the dogs to watch your back. And Justin?"

"Yes?"

"Our little pack's going to be okay."

He nodded, smiled, and headed inside to make some tea. But after the smile faded, he kept thinking one thing over and over again.

What will Richard do when he finds out?