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He withdrew his hand, fought back the desire to wipe it on his jeans. He had gotten this far; he’d see the meeting through but to hell with being polite.
Nobody had been polite to him.
The best he could offer, in honor of his grandfather’s name, was to be direct.
“Mr. McDonough—”
“Please. Before we start, let me apologize Your—Your Highness. Is that correct? Is it the way to address you, I mean?”
“Just call me Reyes.”
“I’m sorry for the delay, Mr. Reyes.”
“Yes. So am I. We were supposed to meet hours ago.”
“I know. It’s just…May I get you something to drink, Prince?”
“The name is Reyes.”
“Sorry. Of course. I’m not accustomed to meeting with—Well, then. What will it be? Something to eat, perhaps?”
Lucas had lost his appetite.
“Nothing, thank you. Let’s just get down to business, Mr. McDonough. That’s why I’m here.”
McDonough’s face grew shinier. “I can see that you’re annoyed, Your Lordship.”
Lucas thought of correcting him again but changed his mind. He had little patience for phonies and fools and from what he’d observed thus far, McDonough was both. The man could genuflect, for all he gave a damn.
“I apologize, sir. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”
“So am I.”
“I assure you, it was unavoidable. I am no happier about it than you are.”
McDonough wasn’t kneeling but he sure as hell was shaking in his shoes. Lucas gave an inward sigh, counted silently to ten and then forced what he hoped was a convincing smile.
“Things happen,” he said. “As a businessman, as a rancher, I understand that. So…” He cleared his throat. “So, let’s begin again, yes? I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. McDonough. My grandfather sends warm greetings.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. But—but I must tell you, I am not Aloysius McDonough.”
Lucas’s attempted smile failed. “Then who are you?”
“My name is Thaddeus Norton. I’m an attorney.”
So much for new beginnings.
“Mr. Norton,” Lucas said brusquely, “this is a waste of time. I came here to meet with Aloysius McDonough. Where is he?”
“I’ll explain everything, sir, if you’ll just be patient.”
“I’m tired of being patient. Where is McDonough? And where is the mare?”
The attorney’s face was a study in confusion. “What mare, Your Excellency?”
“The nonexistent paragon of horseflesh I came to buy.”
“But—but there is no mare, sir.”
