The Lost Princes of Ambria 06 - Taming the Lost Prince

by Raye Morgan

  She gazed into his warm blue eyes and melted. She knew he was kidding, that this was his way of joking about emotions instead of dealing with them. But she also knew he was recognizing the ties between them and ready to embrace them, just like it used to be.

  Still, she had to wonder if he remembered that last night as clearly as she did. He had done nothing to indicate it. As far as she was concerned, she hoped he had a touch of amnesia. That night had been a crazy rush of pain and grief and anguish and they hadn’t handled it very well. Best to forget it. If they could.

  She gave herself a moment to really look at him. Pellea had found him a striking uniform to wear to the ball, but he’d taken off the jacket and pulled open the shirt, displaying some gorgeous skin and manly chest hair. Now he looked less than formal. She shook her head at the sight, but despite everything, she enjoyed seeing him. She always did.

  “How did you get away from Pellea?”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t easy. The woman was watching me like a hawk.”

  She sighed and sank into a chair, gesturing for him to sit on the couch across from her. “She’ll probably be calling me any minute to organize a search party.”

  He moved her discarded jacket and dropped down onto the arm of the couch, then leaned toward her. “You won’t give me up, will you?” he said with a puppy-dog look.

  “Are you kidding?” she told him crossly. “Of course I will. I’m not risking my job so that you can play hooky.”

  He laughed. “Good point.” Then he frowned. “What is your job exactly?”

  “I’m the queen’s personal assistant. I do whatever she needs to get done but doesn’t have time to do herself.”

  It was a good job and she was proud of it. As a single mother without anyone to count on but herself, she was lucky to have it. If she ever lost it, for any reason, she would be in real trouble. There weren’t many good jobs for women in Ambria right now and the queen was a wonderful woman to work for. With a two-year-old of her own, Pellea understood the problems Kayla had to face and was ready to give her a lot of leeway.

  “Ah,” Max said, “impressive. Quite another level from the job you had in Trialta.”

  She smiled, thinking of it. “Selling T-shirts to tourists from a kiosk on the beach. Yes, I didn’t get much chance to show my skills and talents at that one.”

  But it hadn’t mattered then. Her days were spent waiting for Eddie to come back from a flight, and her nights were filled with wine, music and friends. For a few months, life had been carefree and exciting. But you had to pay for everything, one way or another, and she’d been paying the price ever since.

  Max was staring at her as though he could see what she was thinking. “And yet, here you are, barely two years later, assistant to the queen.”

  She gave him a look. “I do have a university education, you know.”

  He appeared surprised. “No, I didn’t know. When did you get that?”

  She smiled. “Long before I first met you.”

  “No kidding.” He frowned, thinking that over. “That’s more than I’ve got. And they think they want me to be a prince.”

  Her smile wavered a bit. It was true. From what she knew of his background, he might have a bit of trouble. He’d never been shy about it. While sipping drinks in the sidewalk cafés of Trialta, he’d regaled them with tales of his childhood living on the streets, always making it sound hilarious rather than tragic. But she’d often thought the raw tattered ghost of deprivation lingered in the shadows of his eyes.

  He’d had a rough childhood. Any breaks he ever got he’d worked hard to achieve. That was very different from what most royals experienced. The newspaper accounts had filled in some of the parts of his background she hadn’t known before, but she didn’t know how accurate they were.

  “From what I’ve read in the newspapers and magazines, they seem to think that you were spirited off on the night of the rebellion,” she said to him musingly. “When the Granvilli family attacked and burned the castle—when your parents, the king and queen were killed, and all the DeAngelis royal children went into hiding.”

  She shuddered just thinking of it. Those poor kids!

  “Do you know how you escaped? Do you have any idea who it was who saved you by carrying you off that night?”

  His shrug was careless, as if he didn’t know and didn’t really care. “Whoever they were, they didn’t take very good care of me. By the time I was seven or eight, I was fending for myself on the streets. Before that, there were various strangers—at one point I think I was staying with a pickpocket who tried to teach me his tricks. But as far as I know, nobody was around for long at anytime. There’s no one I can claim.”

  It broke her heart to think of a child being abandoned like that. She knew from his stories during their Trialta days that he’d been taken in by a fisherman for a while, but the man was cruel and he eventually ran away. It wasn’t until his late teens when he was given a corner to sleep in and a job cleaning the chapel that he met a wonderful older man—a pastor—and his kindly wife, who made it their business to see that he was clothed and had a safe place to stay.

  The pastor had a hobby of flying ancient aircraft—planes from twentieth century wars. Pretty soon he was teaching Max the ropes, introducing him to aviation, and after that life was much brighter. Max joined the Ambrian Air Force as soon as he was old enough. And that was pretty much all she knew.

  “And no one ever guessed you were one of the lost princes,” she murmured, looking at him wonderingly.

  He laughed shortly. “Did you guess?”

  She spread her hands out. “No.”

  “Neither did I. That shows you how long the odds were.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “How horrible for you to be treated like that as such a young child. I’m glad the Granvillis are paying the price for their treason now.”

  He stirred restlessly. “That’s life. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.”

  “And sometimes they pull the chair out from under you, just when you think they’ve given you a throne to sit on.”

  He grinned at her appreciatively. “A cautionary tale, Kayla? Reminding me not to count on anything?”

  She nodded. She couldn’t help it. She’d always been a cautious one. Her only times of going crazy had involved marrying a flyer and then letting grief make her lose all control when he died. “Count no chicks before they hatch.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Wisdom as well as beauty.”

  “Nice of you to notice.” She rose, feeling a little too nervous to sit for long. “Would you like a drink? Iced tea? A cup of coffee?”

  “A beer?” he suggested, following her to the little kitchenette.

  “I think I have one.” And she did, ice cold and ready to drink. She pulled it out of the refrigerator and popped the top for him.

  He took a long sip, sighed with satisfaction and leaned against the counter, looking at her. “So what have you been doing all this time?” he asked her. “You didn’t come straight here from Trialta did you?”

  “No. I’ve been here for less than a year.”

  “And what were you doing before that?”

  She hesitated. Her heart was thumping in her chest. It was time to come clean. She had to tell him. He would find out soon enough anyway. And if he thought she were trying to keep it from him, he might think …

  She shivered.

  “I … uh … I had a baby.” She forced herself to look him in the eye and not waver. “A little boy. I call him Teddy.”

  “Teddy?” He blinked at her.

  “Yes. He’s at my sister’s right now, down the hall. Maybe you can meet him tomorrow.”

  And she stared into his eyes, searching for doubt, searching for memories, searching for anything that would tell her he’d guessed the truth.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MAX’s reaction came a beat too late. Kayla knew he’d had a quick second to think before he let his natural instincts take over. W
hat was he thinking in that flash of time? What was he feeling? His crystal-blue eyes didn’t show a thing. But that tiny hesitation did.

  “Teddy,” he said, sounding pretty normal. “You named him after Eddie, huh? Great.”

  He licked his upper lip quickly, then smiled and reached out to give her a one-armed hug. “Kayla, I’m so glad you have a piece of Eddie to hold on to. That is very cool.”

  He was looking right into her eyes now, seeming completely sincere. “I can hardly wait to meet him.”

  Glancing down, she realized, to her horror, that her fingers were trembling. Quickly, she shoved them under the hem of her sweatshirt.

  “How about you?” she said, a little breathless. “I guess you’re not married.”

  “Married!” His laugh was short and humorless. “You know me better than that.”

  “If Pellea has her way, you soon will be.”

  His deep, painful groan made her smile.

  “Did you meet anyone interesting at the ball?”

  “That wasn’t all the ball was about, was it?” His groan was louder this time. “Oh, lord, do you think she’s going to have more of them?”

  “Of course. You have to marry someone. The others are all paired up already. Pellea wants to get you settled as well.”

  His sigh was heartfelt as he leaned wearily across the little counter. “Why don’t you marry me? Then we can forget all about this nonsense and just be happy.”

  She looked away. The very suggestion sent something skittering through her like sparks from fireworks and she took a quick, gasping little breath, trying to suppress the feeling.

  Marrying Max—what a concept. Luckily, that would never happen, not even for the sake of convenience. There was no way Max could ever take care of her and her baby. It wouldn’t work. She’d been out in the world with him and she probably knew him better than she knew any other man, other than her husband. Max was born to be a bachelor.

  Even Eddie had said so. “Max will never get married,” he’d told her when she tried to have a go at a little matchmaking at one point. “He’s like those animals that die in captivity. They can’t be tamed. They can’t even be gentled. Leave Max alone. He’ll just break their hearts. And yours, too.’”

  Eddie was right, as usual. Max was not a man to hang your heart on. She shook her head and got up the nerve to meet his gaze again. “Sorry, Max. You’re going to have to walk that lonesome valley on your own.”

  His mouth twisted with a bit of pretended chagrin, but he wasn’t really thinking about what she’d said. His gaze was skimming over her face, searching in her eyes, looking for something in the set of her lips. She wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but it was disturbing, and she turned away, heading back to the living room.

  She could feel him watching her, as though his gaze were burning a brand into her back. She forced herself not to look, and finally he came after her and sank onto the couch.

  “Come and sit down by me,” he said.

  His voice was low and there was a new element in it … something different, something mysterious. She felt wary and her pulse stuttered and then began to move a bit faster. There was a sense of being a bit off-kilter. Somehow, the room seemed warmer. A new tension quivered in the air. Every time her eyes met his, the tension seemed thicker, more insistent, like a drumbeat beginning to make itself heard across a rain-forest jungle.

  She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, trying to calm herself. They were just friends, but she worried that he might be edging toward something more. She couldn’t let that happen. Not again.

  “Come on,” he coaxed. He wasn’t smiling but his gaze was warm. Almost smoldering.

  She shook her head and dropped back into the chair. “No. I think I’ll stay here.”

  “What’s the matter?” he asked her.

  She licked her dry lips. “I think we need to keep a demilitarized zone between us,” she said, trying to sound casual and friendly at the same time.

  His eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about?”

  She took a deep breath. How to begin?

  “I’m serious, Max. I don’t think we ought to be close. You’re moving into a whole different sphere of life. I don’t belong there. Let’s not start anything that will have to be …” She shrugged, not sure she wanted to put it into words.

  His bright gaze clouded and he appeared bewildered by what she’d said. “But you seem a part of this castle stuff and I’m just a beginner,” he pointed out. “What are you talking about with this ‘different sphere’ business?”

  She wondered for just a moment if he were really that naive about the class structure in their society. Ambria had always been a remote, self-absorbed little kingdom. Islands tended to breed peculiarities in animals and people if they were cut off from the mainstream for too long. Now that the monarchy had taken back control, after a twenty-five-year exile, and some of the old customs and rituals were being revived.

  Royalty was royalty. It was special. That was all part of establishing authority and building back the old foundations. They were meant to be set apart from the common Ambrian. That was just the way it had to be.

  “I’m an employee,” she told him cheerfully. “You’re a prince. Never the twain shall meet.”

  He made a face as though he thought that was complete tripe, but he would accept her judgment for the moment.

  “We can still be friends, can’t we? We can still talk.”

  “Sure.”

  He frowned. “I’m counting on you for that, you know.”

  That was just the problem. “Max …”

  He took in a deep breath. “Here’s the deal, Kayla. I don’t know what I’m doing here.” His gaze was hard now, insistent, and yet at the same time, completely vulnerable. “I don’t know if I can stand too much of this prince stuff. It’s not me.”

  “Oh.” A flash close to pain went through her. He thought he couldn’t do this. And yet, how could she be surprised? This was exactly what she would have expected if anyone had asked her. But that didn’t mean she could let him go down this road without a struggle. He had to see how important it was.

  “I’m willing to give it a go. For now. But I’m not feeling too confident. Most of my life has been lived on the other side of the divide. I don’t know if I can adapt.”

  “Of course you can.” She wished she could find the words she needed to get through to him. “Max, you were meant to be a prince from the beginning. Don’t you see? The part where you lived on the streets was the mistake.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” He winced, then went on softly, his eyes looking dark and luminous, his voice barely hiding the years of uncertainty he’d lived through.

  “Sometimes I think I never got a family because I didn’t deserve one. I was a misfit. A pretty bad misfit. And maybe I didn’t ever get that kind of family love because …” He looked up and met her gaze. “Because I’m just unlovable.”

  She gasped. He wasn’t joking. His expression was serious, questioning. Now she had to stop herself from going to him, from sliding down beside him and pushing away his pain with her arms. And at the same time, everything in her wanted to do it.

  “Max! How can you say that? Women adore you!”

  He stared at her for a moment, then gave a half laugh, half grunt. “That’s not love, Kayla. That’s something else.”

  Her head went back in surprise. Who would have believed Max would be the one to see the difference so clearly? But still, he seemed to be utterly blind to his own strengths. He was always so carefree and debonair. She’d never known he had this insecurity at his core. She had to make him see how wrong it was.

  “Oh, come on. What did we used to call you? Mr. Casanova. A new girl on your arm every night.”

  His sigh was full of regrets. “You see, that’s just it.” He took a long drink from his beer and stared into space. “Lots of new girls. No true love.”

  It was hard to believe that a man this appealing
, this attractive, thought he couldn’t find his soul mate. She looked at him, so handsome, so adorable. Her fingers ached to run through that thick auburn hair. It took all her will to stay where she was.

  “Haven’t you ever been in love?” she asked him.

  “Not really.” He squinted at her, thinking it over. “I don’t think so. Not like you and Eddie.” His smile was crooked. “I used to watch you two together and I think I hated you almost as much as I loved you.”

  “Oh, Max …”

  “You know what I mean. It was pure jealousy. You two were so good together, so … so devoted.” His voice broke on the word and she had to close her eyes and bite her lip to keep from going to him.

  Devoted. Yes, that was exactly the way it had been. When she’d found Eddie, she couldn’t believe her luck. They’d met in an elevator in their apartment building in Paris. As they traveled up the floors, people got off, but the two of them remained, until they were alone and looking at each other tentatively across the empty car. Their eyes met. Love at first sight. And when they finally got to her floor, he admitted his had been four stops before. How could she not invite him in for a cup of coffee? Two months later, they were married.

  When he’d died, she had thought life was over. She moved in a dark, menacing fog, blindly searching for some way out of the pain, not really believing it was possible. For days, she was obsessed, thinking of ways to join him. And then she realized she had someone else to think about.

  “Do you remember …?” Max’s voice choked.

  She stiffened. Here it came. She had to keep a cool front. Still, she had to tell the truth, at least as far as it was safe.

  “I remember too much,” she said softly.

  “Me, too.” He finished off his beer and looked at her. “I think about Eddie every day.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes. “Me, too.”

  She wasn’t going to cry. She had to hold it back. For a moment, she let herself recall the way it had been being married to Eddie. Sunshine every day. Champagne for breakfast. Walks on the beach and dancing barefoot to a reggae tune. Driving with the top down. Love in the afternoon. Eddie was the best. The very best.