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It was hard to imagine why her father should have struggled so much to survive when he was the son of such a wealthy man. Which made Pippa wonder what King Grayhawk had done to his son to make him run so far from home and stay gone for so long.

She was here now, where her mother and father had met, where her father had lived until he was seventeen, where her grandfather still played lord of the manor, and where she had four aunts who presumably knew some of the family history her father had never shared. Before her child was born, Pippa intended to have some answers.

“
I
CAN'T BELIEVE
you're eating that disgusting stuff for breakfast,” Eve said.

Pippa's hand trembled with rage and frustration as she listened to the youngest of the four Grayhawk sisters ridicule the Vegemite she was slathering onto a piece of burned toast—burned because one of them had changed the dial on the toaster to its highest setting without telling her. Pippa had lived too frugally all her life to throw away the burned toast, so she'd scraped off the charred parts and resigned herself to a less-than-perfect breakfast.

Granted, Vegemite was an acquired taste. The dark brown Australian food paste, made from leftover brewer's yeast extract and various spices, was salty, slightly bitter, and rich in a substance similar to beef bouillon. But to her, it was comfort food, a reminder of the home she'd left behind.

Pippa's father had eaten breakfast and left the house at dawn, and her little brother was still sleeping, so she was on her own with King's daughters. “Silly galahs,” she muttered under her breath, likening them to an Australian bird known for its crazy antics. She was out of patience with the whole bunch of them. She drank tea rather than coffee, and began pouring boiling water from the electric teapot over the Earl Grey teabag she'd put in her cup.

She clenched her teeth to hold back an oath as coffee, instead of hot water, came out. She set the teapot down carefully, unwilling to add a burn injury to the insults she'd already suffered. She heard a snigger from one of the sisters but refused to be drawn into the brawl she could tell they hoped to provoke.

She had to get out of here. Now. Before she exploded and said or did something that would make her life here even more unendurable than it already was. Her stomach roiled. She'd been feeling crook ever since she'd woken up, and she fought back the nausea that rose in her throat. Heaven only knew what sort of gibes she'd fall prey to if they learned she was unwed and pregnant. She dropped the burned toast and left the ruined tea behind as she marched across the kitchen, grabbed her jacket from an antler coatrack, and headed out the back door.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stepped off the covered porch and hurried across the enormous lawn, which showed patches of spring green. She shivered from the cold in her light Australian jacket and wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stay warm. The chilly April spring in Wyoming was similar to the April fall in the Northern Territory, but at least there was no snow on the ground right now, and the sun was shining. She wasn't about to go back into the house to retrieve a warmer coat.

Pippa had no destination in mind but soon found herself inside the stable. The familiar smells of leather and manure and hay soothed the awful ache in the back of her throat.

She was homesick. And lonely, which surprised her. She'd never had a lot of friends, yet she'd never felt alone. Why was that? The answer was simple. Spending her days gentling wild horses had made her life meaningful and given her something to care for and to love.

But there were no brumbies to tame here.

This nightmare is all my fault. If I hadn't been so gullible, we would still be in Australia. There would be no resentful relatives to make my life hell.

Pippa moved from stall to stall caressing velvet noses and feeling the solace of welcoming nickers. She missed her favorite mount, Beastie. He'd been the most challenging brumby she'd ever tamed, but he'd been a sweetheart ever after. Sadly, Beastie had been sold along with her father's cattle station.

The ache in her throat was back with a vengeance.

Pippa scrubbed away the tears in her eyes and saw that the horse Leah usually rode was missing from its stall. That explained why the eldest Grayhawk girl at Kingdom Come—the one who'd been five years old when King married her mother—hadn't been at breakfast. Leah had been tight-lipped whenever Matt or Pippa was around, but it was King she blamed—and gave the cold shoulder—for offering Kingdom Come to his prodigal son.

Leah had frequently shown her disapproval of her younger sisters' behavior toward Pippa with a sharp look or a lifted eyebrow that usually nipped it in the bud. It hadn't taken long for Pippa to realize that Leah was more a mother than a sister to her mother's three daughters with King. It was a role she'd apparently taken on at ten years old, when their mother had run away with one of King's cowhands.

Pippa quickly saddled a horse and rode out, determined to spend the day as far from her aunts as she could. Every story she'd heard about the four women since she'd arrived at Kingdom Come was fraught with calamity. That, combined with what she'd experienced herself over the past three weeks, made it easy to see why the locals had labeled her grandfather's four youngest daughters “King's Brats.”

Still, she couldn't help feeling sorry for them. No wonder they'd turned out as they had, abandoned by their mother and with a father who'd apparently left the parenting to an older sister and the servants.

Pippa shook her head. Her sympathy was misplaced with those she-devils. The fact was that she'd always been too softhearted. Which made no sense when she'd grown up with a father who didn't give second chances. She'd never understood how her dad could be so ruthless. But meeting her grandfather, dealing with his children, discovering their sense of entitlement, their arrogance, and their pride, she was beginning to see why her father might have turned out as he had.

Pippa caught her breath when she came around a bend and was greeted by the nearly fourteen-thousand-foot Grand Tetons. She loved the Australian Outback, but these majestic, snow-tipped mountains had to be one of the most beautiful sights in the world. She joined a trail that led along the edge of a forest of spruces and pines, feeling her body—and her soul—warm as the sun and her surroundings did their work.

She spied Leah in the distance, but she wasn't alone. Pippa shaded her eyes to see if she could identify the other person on horseback riding with her aunt. She was shocked when she recognized the man. It was one of her father's four Flynn cousins. She'd met two of them, Aiden and Brian. The Flynns lived on a large ranch that bordered Kingdom Come. If she wasn't mistaken, that was Aiden Flynn. And he was…Oh, my God. He was leaning over to kiss Leah! At the last instant, Leah reared back out of reach.

Pippa realized she must have been mistaken in what she'd surmised. The first thing she'd learned when she'd arrived at Kingdom Come was that Grayhawks
hated
Flynns—and the feeling was mutual. The feud had started when King divorced his first wife, Jane Flynn, who later died of an overdose of barbiturates. In the aftermath of her death, Jane's brother, Angus, had done his best to make life miserable for King Grayhawk, and once they were old enough, Angus's sons and King's daughters had joined in the fray.

Pippa couldn't imagine why Aiden and Leah would be out riding together, much less kissing. As she watched, Leah and Aiden rode away in different directions. Leah must have accidentally run into Aiden, and they'd exchanged rancorous words. That must have been what she'd seen.

Pippa saw Leah turning in her direction and quickly angled her horse onto a narrow path that led into the concealing forest. The last thing she wanted was to run into another Grayhawk girl. She kicked her mount into a trot to take her farther away from her aunt and disappeared into a lush, evergreen wonderland, an ethereal world lit by dappled sunlight.

A half hour later, she passed through a gate set in a barbed-wire fence and emerged onto a blindingly bright, breathtakingly beautiful meadow decorated with white, yellow, and purple flowers. A herd of Black Angus cattle was scattered across it, munching grass.

In Australia, her father had raised Brahman cattle, and the sudden bawl of a calf searching for its mother brought a wistful look to her face. She watched as the cow and calf were reunited and the calf took suck. And felt all the sadness of being alone in a strange place well up inside her again.

She kicked her mount into a lope, following a creek that flowed along the lower end of the meadow, determined to outrun the feelings that were so unfamiliar to her. She tried to remember the last time she'd laughed. Too long ago, for sure.

Pippa firmed her jaw. She wasn't going to let these Grayhawks get her down. She was going to make the best of her situation for herself and her child. Which reminded her that she needed to find a doctor in town and get a checkup. She'd been putting it off, wondering if she could trust a small-town doctor—and his nurse and receptionist—to be discreet.

Pippa was so caught up in her thoughts that she was nearly upon the other rider before she was aware of him. He pulled up his mount at the same time as she did.

Her heartbeat stuttered as she registered the fact that she was completely alone in the back of beyond. Common sense came to her rescue. The stranger was dressed like one of King's cowhands in a buff cowboy hat, blue chambray shirt, fleece vest, jeans, chaps, and boots. His presence made perfect sense, considering the fact that she was riding across a meadow filled with cattle.

Then he smiled, his gray-green eyes crinkling at the corners, his lips uptilted more on one side than the other, and Pippa felt all the tension ease out of her.

“Good morning,” he said in a rich baritone voice. “What brings you here?”

Pippa realized she was smiling back. Her smile broadened as she said, “I'm just enjoying the sunshine.”

“Me too.” He held up a paper bag, then gestured toward a large pond surrounded on three sides by budding aspens and vivid evergreens. “I was going to eat breakfast. Want to join me?”

Pippa realized that her morning sickness had passed and that she was ravenous. A little tucker sounded wonderful. “Sure.”

He kicked his mount so they were riding side by side as they headed for the idyllic spot. “You must be one of the new arrivals from Australia.”

Pippa cocked her head. “How did you know?”

He laughed. “Your accent gives you away. I like it, by the way.”

Pippa liked his laugh and his smile. She liked the fact that he'd offered to share his breakfast. She liked the easy way he sat in the saddle and how one large, callused hand held the reins while the other rested on his muscular thigh. She especially liked the day-old beard on his jaw and his warm, moss-green eyes.

Pippa felt a surprising frisson of physical awareness skitter down her spine. She stared, wide-eyed, at the stranger beside her, suddenly breathless, conscious of a strong desire to know more about him. Pippa warned herself to be careful. She had no intention of letting another man into her life right now, especially one as charming as this cowboy.

They'd reached the pond, and he dismounted and tied his reins to a budding aspen branch. He crossed to catch the reins by her horse's mouth as she dismounted and then tied her horse off next to his. Then, without making any attempt to touch her, he headed toward a broad, flat stone, the perfect height to sit on, at the edge of the pond.

“King had this stone put here,” he said as he dropped onto it.

“Why would he do that?” Pippa asked as she joined him on the sun-warmed river rock.

“I think he used to come here to be alone and think.”

“And he doesn't anymore?”

He shot her a wry smile. “Nobody ever comes here these days but me and those cows.”

Pippa leaned back on her palms, inhaling the crisp scent of the pines and listening to the jays calling to each other in the evergreens as she watched two white trumpeter swans glide across the pond. “That's a shame. It's beautiful here.”

“You're beautiful.”

Pippa sat up, startled by the compliment, and her eyes locked with the stranger's.

He must have sensed her sudden wariness, because he grinned and added, “You fit right in with the mountains and the columbine and the pond and the forest.”

She exhaled with relief that he'd simply been comparing her looks with the beauty of their surroundings. She didn't want to be admired as a woman. She wasn't looking for another boyfriend. What she really needed was a friend. She hoped she could steer this chance meeting in that direction. “It's all very breathtaking, isn't it?”

Instead of answering, he took his hat off and laid it crown down on the rock behind him, thrusting his fingers through sun-shot chestnut hair that fell over his brow. Then he opened the bag and pulled out two items wrapped in tinfoil. He handed one to her, then unwrapped the other and took a big bite of what turned out to be a biscuit with ham.

Pippa unwrapped hers and took a small bite, unsure how her stomach would react. But everything tasted wonderful.

“I could have eaten this at home this morning,” he said, “but you have to admit there's something about eating outdoors that makes everything taste better.”

He was smiling again, and Pippa felt herself smiling back again.

“How do you like living at Kingdom Come?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to admit the truth and shut it again. King's Brats were mean as cat's piss, but they were also her aunts. She didn't want to bad-mouth her family to a stranger, especially one of King's cowhands. She settled for saying, “It's not what I expected.”

“Better? Worse?”

She shook her head, unwilling to be pinned down. “Just different.”

“Everyone is curious about how you're getting along.”

Pippa stiffened. “Why is that?”

“It's common knowledge that Matt brought a grown daughter home with him, but nobody's seen hide nor hair of you in town.”

“I haven't had any reason to go to town.” And having grown up driving on the opposite side of the road in Australia, she was still leery of traveling on the highway.

“To be honest, I don't go to town much myself,” he admitted.

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “Prefer my own company, I guess.”