The Lost Princes: Darius, Cassius & Monte

by Raye Morgan

  “Oh my gosh!”

  The whole situation was crazy. How had she been chosen? But she didn’t want to ask too many questions. She was afraid someone would say, “Hey, why are we sending her, anyway?” and it would be all over. So she kept her head down and made quick preparations, and before she knew it, she was on the plane to Italy.

  And all she could think about was Joe. Would she see him? Would she get a glimpse of Mei? Maybe she’d see them at a fancy restaurant, or maybe there would be a parade and they would be in it. If she waved, would they wave back? How hard would that be—to see them passing and have them look right through her? She didn’t know if she would be able to stand it.

  But she was going. What would be would be. Piasa wasn’t a very big town. Surely she would see them somewhere, at some point.

  She landed at the airport and took a five-hour taxi ride into the mountains. The town of Piasa looked as if it belonged in the Swiss Alps. It was very quaint and adorable, with chalets and wildflowers everywhere. She almost expected to see Julie Andrews bursting into song every time she looked at the mountains.

  Kelly spent the first day getting acclimatized, checking into her hotel, learning where she needed to go to get information, meeting some of the townsfolk. And asking discreetly if anyone knew anything about the lost princes. No one did.

  But all in all, it was pretty exciting meeting Ambrians everywhere. The feeling of kinship was strong and there seemed to be a festive spirit in the air. Something was up, that was for sure.

  When she finally got back to her hotel room that first night, there was a message from her home office of the Ambrian News Agency, asking why she hadn’t contacted her client yet, and giving a number for doing so.

  Client? What client? No one had told her there was a specific client involved. But she supposed that must be why she’d received the last-minute assignment, and no one had completed briefing her on what she was expected to do here.

  She looked at the clock. It was too late to do anything about it tonight. She would call the number in the morning. With a sigh, she began to get ready for bed.

  And then she heard a strange sound. She stopped, holding her breath. Something brushed against her door, and then there was whispering. And finally, a firm knock.

  Her heart began to pound. This was an idyllic, picturesque little town, but she knew behind the pretty pictures lurked a perpetual menace. The Granvillis were behind most of the ugly incidents that happened to expatriot Ambrians. Everywhere she’d gone today, people had warned her to be careful.

  She went to the door and listened. There was still whispering, but she couldn’t make it out.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  A voice spoke—what sounded almost like a child’s voice.

  A child’s voice. But it couldn’t be…

  “Mei?” she said, almost whispering herself. Throwing caution to the wind, she ripped the door open.

  “Mei!”

  There was the darling little girl, high up in Joe’s arms, and now shrieking with laughter and clapping her hands. Kelly was so surprised she stood in shocked paralysis, her mouth open.

  “Hey, better let us in,” Joe advised, his grin wide and his eyes filled with affection. “You’ll have your neighbors up in arms at all the noise soon.”

  “Joe!” She stepped back and herded them in. “I can’t believe this. I was hoping I would find you somewhere, and here you are.”

  “Darn right,” he said. “We’ve been trying to catch up with you all afternoon. You were supposed to check in as soon as you got here.”

  She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t you guess? We’re your clients—me and Mei. I got your agency to send you. I told them I needed to hire you as my communications director for awhile.”

  She stared at him, at a loss. Things were happening too fast.

  “Hey.” He pointed his thumb at his chest. “Meet the new boss. You’re all mine now.”

  As if she hadn’t been all along. Kelly started to laugh, and then she stopped herself, afraid she might lapse into hysteria. This was all so crazy.

  Then she took a good look at them. Joe was dressed in a gray sweatshirt with a hood, and so was Mei. They looked like versions of how she’d appeared on the beach when Joe had first noticed her.

  “Yeah, we’re running around town undercover,” he told her cheerfully. “Did you bring your sweats with you? You can join us. That’ll keep you incognito as we make our way back to the Marbella House, where we’re staying.” He glanced at his watch. “Mei is up way past her bedtime, but she wanted to help me find you, so here she is.”

  Kelly shook her head in wonder. “So you two are okay now?” she asked, though she really didn’t have to.

  “Sure. Look at this.” He set Mei down in a chair and knelt before her.

  “Okay, Mei. We need to show Kelly your new talents. Show her. What does the pig say?”

  Mei wiggled her nose and made a very cute grunting noise.

  “What does the doggie say?”

  She scrunched up her face and woofed heartily.

  “What does the Mei say?”

  She threw her arms out and wrapped them around Joe’s neck. “Dada!” she cried happily.

  Kelly watched with tears in her eyes. “That is the best present I could ever have,” she told Joe, snuffling a bit as he stood and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Okay,” he said, lifting her chin and dropping a sweet kiss on her lips. “Then I guess I’ll have to try to better it.”

  She blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “How would you like a royal wedding?”

  “But…I’m not getting married.”

  He looked surprised. “Oh. Funny. I thought you were.”

  She was frowning. He was teasing her again, wasn’t he? “No, I’m not, and it’s not funny at all. In fact, I think you’re—”

  She stopped dead. He had a diamond ring in his hand. As she gaped at him, he went down on one knee and presented it to her. “Kelly Vrosis, would you be my wife?” he asked, his eyes shining with something that looked very much like love.

  “Oh!”

  He raised one eyebrow. “I was hoping for a yes.”

  “But…but—” She was utterly flabbergasted. Never in a million years had she expected anything like this.

  “I need you with me, Kelly. Mei needs you, too. And the only way I can guarantee that is to marry you.”

  She laughed. “So what you’re proposing is a marriage of convenience. Your convenience.”

  “You might say that. I’d rather say we were meant for each other and there is no point in delaying the inevitable.”

  Her smile could have warmed the room. “I like that kind of talk.”

  “And your answer is?”

  “Yes! Oh, yes!”

  “Dada!” Mei chimed in, clapping her hands.

  Joe scooped her up and they had a three-way hug, a family at last.

  Crown Prince,

  Pregnant Bride!

  Raye Morgan

  This book is dedicated to Baby Kate

  CHAPTER ONE

  THOUGH MONTE COULDN’T see her, Pellea Marallis passed so close to the Crown Prince’s hiding place, he easily caught a hint of her intoxicating perfume. That gave him an unexpected jolt. It brought back a panoply of memories, like flipping through the pages of a book—a vision of sunlight shining through a gauzy white dress, silhouetting a slim, beautifully rounded female form, a flashing picture of drops of water cascading like a thousand diamonds onto creamy silken skin, a sense of cool satin sheets and caresses that set his flesh on fire.

  He bit down hard on his lower lip to stop the wave of sensuality that threatened to wash over him. He wasn’t here to renew the romance. He was here to kidnap her. And he wasn’t about to let that beguiling man-woman thing get in the way this time.

  She passed close again and he could hear the rustle of her long skirt as it b
rushed against the wall he was leaning on. She was pacing back and forth in her courtyard, a garden retreat built right into this side of the castle, giving her a small lush forest where she spent most of her time. The surrounding rooms—a huge closet filled with clothes and a small sitting room, a neighboring compact office stacked to the ceiling with books, a sumptuously decorated bedroom—each opened onto the courtyard with French doors, making her living space a mixture of indoors and outdoors in an enchanting maze of exciting colors and provocative scents.

  She was living like a princess.

  Did he resent it all? Of course. How could he not?

  But this was not the side of the castle where his family had lived before the overthrow of their royal rule. That area had been burned the night his parents were murdered by the Granvillis, the thugs who still ruled Ambria, this small island country that had once been home to his family. He understood that part of the castle was only now being renovated, twenty-five years later.

  And that he resented.

  But Pellea had nothing to do with the way his family had been robbed of their birthright. He had no intention of holding her accountable. Her father was another matter. His long-time status as the Grand Counselor to the Granvillis was what gave Pellea the right to live in this luxury—and his treachery twenty-five years ago was considered a subject of dusty history.

  Not to Monte. But that was a matter for another time.

  He hadn’t seen her yet. He’d slipped into the dressing room as soon as he’d emerged from the secret passageway. And now he was just biding his time before he revealed his presence.

  He was taking this slowly, because no matter what he’d told himself, she affected him in ways no other woman ever had. In fact, she’d been known to send his restraint reeling, and he knew he had to take this at a cautious pace if he didn’t want things to spin out of control again.

  He heard her voice and his head rose. Listening hard, he tried to figure out if she had someone with her. No. She was talking on her mobile, and when she turned in his direction, he could just make out what she was saying.

  “Seed pearls of course. And little pink rosebuds. I think that ought to do it.”

  He wasn’t really listening to the words. Just the sound of her had him mesmerized. He’d never noticed before how appealing her voice was, just as an instrument. He hadn’t heard it for some time, and it caught the ear the way a lilting acoustic guitar solo might, each note crisp, crystal clear and sweet in a way that touched the soul.

  As she talked, he listened to the sound and smiled. He wanted to see her and the need was growing in him.

  But to do that, he would have to move to a riskier position so that he could see out through the open French doors. Though he’d slipped easily into her huge dressing room, he needed to move to a niche beside a tall wardrobe where he could see everything without being seen himself. Carefully, he made his move.

  And there she was. His heart was thudding so hard, he could barely breathe.

  The thing about Pellea, and part of the reason she so completely captivated him, was that she seemed to embody a sense of royal command even though there wasn’t a royal bone in her body. She was classically beautiful, like a Greek statue, only slimmer, like an angel in a Renaissance painting, only earthier, like a dancer drawn by Toulouse-Lautrec, only more graceful, like a thirties-era film star, only more mysteriously luminescent. She was all a woman could be and still be of this earth.

  Barely.

  To a casual glance, she looked like a normal woman. Her face was exceptionally pretty, but there were others with dark eyes as almond-shaped, with long, lustrous lashes that seemed to sweep the air. Her hair floated about her face like a misty cloud of spun gold and her form was trim and nicely rounded. Her lips were red and full and inviting. Perfection.

  But there were others who had much the same advantages. Others had caught his eye through the years, but not many had filled his mind and touched off the sense of longing that she had.

  There was something more to Pellea, something in the dignity with which she held herself, an inner fire that burned behind a certain sadness in her eyes, an inner drive, a sense of purpose, that set her apart. She could be playful as a kitten one minute, then smoldering with a provocative allure, and just as suddenly, aflame with righteous anger.

  From the moment he’d first seen her, he’d known she was special. And for a few days two months ago, she’d been his.

  “Didn’t I give you my sketches?” she was saying into the phone. “I tend to lean a little more toward traditional. Not too modern. No off-the-shoulder stuff. Not for this.”

  He frowned, wondering what on earth she was talking about. Designing a ball gown maybe? He could see her on the dance floor, drawing all eyes. Would he ever get the chance to dance with her? Not in a ballroom, but maybe here, in her courtyard. Why not?

  It was a beautiful setting. When he’d been here before, it had been winter and everything had been lifeless and stark. But spring was here now, and the space was a riot of color.

  A fountain spilled water in the center of the area, making music that was a pleasant, tinkling background. Tiled pathways meandered through the area, weaving in among rosebushes and tropical plants, palms and a small bamboo forest.

  Yes, they would have to turn on some music and dance. He could almost feel her in his arms. He stole another glance at her, at the way she held her long, graceful neck, at the way her free hand fluttered like a bird as she made her point, at the way her dressing gown gaped open, revealing the lacy shift she wore underneath.

  “Diamonds?” she was saying into the phone. “Oh, no. No diamonds. Just the one, of course. That’s customary. I’m not really a shower-me-with-diamonds sort of girl, you know what I mean?”

  He reached out and just barely touched the fluttering hem of her flowing sleeve as she passed. She turned quickly, as though she’d sensed something, but he’d pulled back just in time and she didn’t see him. He smiled, pleased with himself. He would let her know he was here when he was good and ready.

  “As I remember it, the veil is more of an ivory shade. There are seed pearls scattered all over the crown area, and then down along the edges on both sides. I think that will be enough.”

  Veil? Monte frowned. Finally, a picture swam into stark relief and he realized what she must be talking about. It sounded like a wedding. She was planning her wedding ensemble.

  She was getting married.

  He stared at her, appalled. What business did she have getting married? Had she forgotten all about him so quickly? Anger curled through him like smoke and he only barely held back the impulse to stride out and confront her.

  She couldn’t get married. He wouldn’t allow it.

  And yet, he realized with a twinge of conscience, it wasn’t as though he was planning to marry her himself. Of course not. He had bigger fish to fry. He had an invasion to orchestrate and manage. Besides, there was no way he would ever marry the daughter of the biggest betrayer still alive of his family—the DeAngelis Royalty.

  And yet, to think she was planning to marry someone else so soon after their time together burned like a scorpion’s sting.

  What the hell!

  A muted gong sounded, making him jerk in surprise. That was new. There had been a brass knocker a few weeks ago. What else had she changed since he’d been here before?

  Getting married—hah! It was a good thing he’d shown up to kidnap her just in time.

  Pellea had just rung off with her clothing designer, and she raised her head at the sound of her new entry gong. She sighed, shoulders drooping. The last thing she wanted was company, and she was afraid she knew who this was anyway. Her husband-to-be. Oh, joy.

  “Enter,” she called out.

  There was a heavy metal clang as the gate was pulled open and then the sound of boots on the tile. A tall man entered, his neatly trimmed hair too short to identify the color, but cut close to his perfectly formed head. His shoulders were wide, his body
neatly proportioned and very fit-looking. His long face would have been handsome if he could have trained himself to get rid of the perpetual sneer he wore like a mark of superiority at all times.

  Leonardo Granvilli was the oldest son of Georges Granvilli, leader of the rebellion that had taken over this island nation twenty-five years before, the man who now ruled as The General, a term that somewhat softened the edges of his relatively despotic regime.

  “My darling,” Leonardo said coolly in a deep, sonorous voice. “You’re radiant as the dawn on this beautiful day.”

  “Oh, spare me, Leonardo,” she said dismissively. Her tone held casual disregard but wasn’t in any way meant to offend. “No need for empty words of praise. We’ve known each other since we were children. I think by now we’ve taken the measure, each of the other. I don’t need a daily snow job.”

  Leonardo made a guttural sound in his throat and threw a hand up to cover his forehead in annoyance. “Pellea, why can’t you be like other women and just accept the phony flattery for what it is? It’s nothing but form, darling. A way to get through the awkward moments. A little sugar to help the medicine go down.”

  Pellea laughed shortly, but cut it off almost before it had begun. Pretending to be obedient, she went into mock royal mode for him.

  “Pray tell me, kind sir, what brings my noble knight to my private chambers on such a day as this?”

  He actually smiled. “That’s more like it.”

  She curtsied low and long and his smile widened.

  “Bravo. This marriage may just work out after all.”

  Her glare shot daggers his way, as though to say, In your dreams, but he ignored that.

  “I came with news. We may have to postpone our wedding.”

  “What?” Involuntarily, her hands went to her belly—and the moment she realized what she’d done, she snatched them away again. “Why?”

  “That old fool, the last duke of the DeAngelis clan, has finally died. This means a certain level of upheaval is probable in the expatriate Ambrian community. They will have to buzz about and try to find a new patriarch, it seems. We need to be alert and ready to move on any sort of threat that might occur to our regime.”