by Raye Morgan
She frowned. “What does that matter?” she asked.
He grinned. “You are so suspicious of my every mood and plan.”
Her eyes flashed. “With good reason, it seems.”
He shrugged. “So I won’t see you again until later?”
“No. Unless you decide to go away. As you should.” She hesitated. She needed to make a few thing clear to him. He had to follow rules or she was going to have to get the guard to come help her keep him in line.
Right. That was a great idea. She made a face at herself. She was truly caught in a trap. She needed to keep him in line, but in order to do that, she would be signing his death warrant. There was no way that was going to happen.
At the same time, he showed no appreciation for the bind she was in. If he didn’t feel it necessary to respect the rules she made, she couldn’t have him here. He would have to understand that.
Taking a deep breath, she gave him the facts as she needed them to be.
“Once the announcement is made, our engagement will be official and there will be no more of anything like this,” she warned him, a sweep of her hand indicating their entire relationship. “You understand that, don’t you?”
His eyes were hooded as he looked up at her. “I understand what you’re saying,”
“Monte, please don’t do anything. You can’t. I can’t let you. Please have some respect.”
His slow, insolent smile was his answer. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”
She stared at him, then finally did roll her eyes. “Of course not. Everything you do would be for my own good, wouldn’t it?”
There was no escaping the tone of sarcasm in her voice. She sighed with exasperation and then the expression in her eyes changed. She hesitated. “Will you be gone?” she asked.
He met her gaze and held it. “Is that really what you hope?”
She started to say, “Of course,” but then she stopped, bit her lip and sighed. “How can I analyze what I’m hoping right now?” she said instead, her voice trembling. “How can I even think clearly when you’re looking at me like that?”
One last glare and she whirled, leaving the room as elegantly as any queen might do.
He rose and followed, going to the doorway so that he could watch her leave her chambers, a uniformed guard on either side. She could have been royalty from another century. She could have been Anne Boleyn on her way to the tower. He thought she was pretty special. He wanted her to be his, but just how that would work was not really clear.
Right now he had a purpose in mind—exploring the other side of the castle where his family’s living quarters had been. That was the section that had burned and he knew it had been recently renovated. He only hoped enough would be left of what had been so that he could find something he remembered.
It would seem the perfect time to do it. With the ball beginning, no one would be manning their usual places. Everyone would be gravitating toward the ballroom for a look at the festivities. A quick trip to Pellea’s surveillance room was in order, and then he would take his chances in the halls.
The long, tedious picture-taking session was wrapping up and Pellea waited with Kimmee for Leonardo to come out. The photographers were taking a few last individual portraits of him.
“Shall I go check on the preparations for your entrance to the ballroom?” Kimmee asked, and Pellea nodded her assent.
It had been her experience that double-checking never hurt and taking things for granted usually led to disaster. Besides, she needed a moment to be alone and settle her feelings.
Turning slowly, she appraised herself in the long, full-length mirror. Was that the face of a happy woman? Was that the demeanor of a bride?
Not quite. But it was the face of a rather regal-looking woman, if she did say so herself. But why was she even thinking such a thing? She would never be queen, no matter what. Monte might be king someday, but he would never pick her to be his wife. He couldn’t pick someone from a traitor’s family to help him rule Ambria, now could he?
The closest she would get to that was to marry Leonardo. Did that really matter to her? She searched her soul, looking for even the tiniest hint of ambition and couldn’t find it. That sort of thing was important to her father, but not to her. If her father weren’t involved, she would leave with Monte and never look back. But that was impossible under the circumstances.
Still, it was nice to dream about. What if she and Monte were free? They might get on a yacht and sail to the South Seas and live on an island. Not an island like Ambria with its factions always in contention and undermining each other. A pretty island with coconut trees and waterfalls, a place that was quiet and warm and peaceful with turquoise waters and silver-blue fish and white-sand beaches.
But there was no time to live in dreams. She had to live in the here and now. And that meant she had to deal with Leonardo.
She smiled at him as he came out of the sitting room.
“All done?” she asked.
“So it seems,” he replied, then leaned close. “Ah, so beautiful,” he murmured as he tried to nuzzle her neck.
“Don’t touch,” she warned him, pulling back.
“Yes, yes, I know. You’re all painted up and ready to go.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “But I want to warn you, my beauty, I plan to touch you a lot on our wedding night.”
That sent a chill down her spine. She looked at him in surprise. He’d never shown any sexual interest in her before. This put an ominous pall on her future, didn’t it? She’d heard lurid tales about his many mistresses and she’d assumed that he knew their marriage would be for advantage and convenience only, and not for love or for anything physical. Now he seemed to be having second thoughts. What was going on here?
She glanced at Kimmee who’d just returned and had heard him as well, and they exchanged a startled glance.
Leonardo took a call on his mobile, then snapped it shut and frowned. “I’m sorry, my love,” he told her. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to let the guards escort you to the ballroom. I’ll be along later. I have a matter that must be taken care of immediately.”
Something in his words sent warning signals through her.
“What is it, Leonardo?” she asked, carefully putting on a careless attitude. “Do we need to man the barricades?”
“Nothing that should trouble you, my sweet,” he said, giving her a shallow smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It seems we may have an interloper in the castle.”
“Oh?” Her blood ran cold and she clenched her fists behind the folds of her skirt. “What sort of interloper?”
He waved a hand in the air. “It may be nothing, but a few of the guards seem to think they saw a stranger on one of the monitors this afternoon.” He shook his head. “We don’t allow intruders in the castle, especially on a night like this.”
He sighed. “I just have to go and check out what they caught on the recorder. I’ll be back in no time.”
“Hurry back, my dear,” she said absentmindedly, thinking hard about how she was going to warn Monte.
“I will, my love.” He bowed in her direction and smiled at her. “Don’t do any dancing without me,” he warned. Turning, he disappeared out the door.
Pellea reached out to steady herself to keep from keeling over. She met Kimmee’s gaze and they both stared at each other with worried eyes.
“I told him to go,” she fretted to her lifelong friend and servant. “Now he’s probably out running around the castle and about to get caught. Oh, Kimmee!”
Kimmee leaned close. “Don’t worry, Pel,” she whispered, scanning the area to make sure no one could overhear them. “I’ll find him and I’ll warn him. You can count on me.”
Pellea grabbed her arm. “Tell him there is no more room for error. He has to get out of the castle right now!”
“I will. Don’t you worry. He’ll get the message.”
And she dashed off into the hallway.
Pellea took
a deep breath and tried to quiet her nerves. She had to forget all about Monte and the trouble he might be in. She had to act as though everything were normal. In other words, she would have to pretend. And it occurred to her that this might be a lesson for the way things would be for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER SIX
MONTE WAS BACK FROM EXPLORING and he was waiting impatiently for Kimmee to make good on her promises and show up with a costume he could wear to the ball.
He’d been to the other side of the castle and he’d seen things that would take him time to assimilate and deal with emotionally. It could have been overwhelming if he’d let it be. He’d barely skimmed through the area and not much remained of the home he’d lived in with his loving family. Most of what was rebuilt had a new, more modern cast.
But he had found something important. He’d found a storeroom where some of the rescued items and furniture from his family’s reign had been shoved aside and forgotten for years. A treasure trove that he would have to explore when he got the chance. But in the short run, he’d found his mother’s prized grandfather clock. More important, he’d found her secret compartment, untouched after all these years. That alone had given him a sense of satisfaction.
And one of the items he had found in that secret hiding place was likely to come in very handy this very night.
But right now, he just wanted to see Kimmee appear in the gateway. He knew she’d been helping with the photo shoot, but surely that was over by now. If she didn’t come soon, he would have to find a way to go without a special costume—and that would be dangerous enough to make him think at least twice.
“Don’t give up on me!”
Kimmee’s voice rang out before the gong sounded and she came rushing in bearing bulky gifts and a wide smile.
“I’ve got everything you need right here,” she claimed, spreading out her bounty before him. “Though I’m afraid it’s all for naught.”
“Once more, you save the day,” he told her as he looked through the items, thoroughly impressed. “I’m going to have to recommend you for a medal.”
“A reward for costume procurement?” she asked with a laugh. “But there’s more. I’m afraid you won’t be able to use this after all.”
“No?” He stopped and looked at her. “Why not?”
“The castle is on stranger alert.” She sighed. “You must have gone exploring because some of the guards claim they saw you—or somebody—on one of the hall monitors.”
“Oh. Bad luck.”
She shrugged. “Leonardo is looking into it and he seems pretty serious about it. So Pellea sent me to tell you to get out while the getting’s good, because there’s no time left.” She shook her head, looking at him earnestly. “I went ahead and brought you the costume, because I promised I would, and I knew you’d want to see this. But I don’t think it would be wise to use it. You’re going to have to go, and go quickly.”
“Am I?” He held up the coat to the uniform and gazed at it.
“Oh, I think you’d better,” she said.
“And I will.” He smiled at her. “All in good time. But first, I want to dance with Pellea.”
Her face was filled with doubt but her eyes were shining. “But if you get caught…?”
“Then I’ll just have to get away again,” he told her. “But I don’t plan to get caught. I’ve got a mask, don’t I? No one will be sure who I really am, and I’ll keep a sharp eye out.” He grinned. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going to go try this on.”
“Well, what do you know?” She sighed, wary but rather happy he wasn’t going to give up so easily. “Go ahead and try it on. I’ll wait and help with any lastminute adjustments.”
He took the costume up as though it were precious—and in a way it was. He recognized what she’d found for him—the official dress uniform of Ambrian royalty from the nineteenth century—a uniform one of his great-great-grandfathers had probably worn. He slipped into it quickly. It all fitted like a glove. Looking in the mirror, he had to smile. He looked damn good in gold braid and a stiff collar. As though he was born to wear it.
When he walked out, Kimmee applauded, delighted with how it had worked out.
“Here’s your mask,” she said, handing it to him. “As you say, it will be very important in keeping your identity hidden. And it’s a special one. Very tight. Very secure.” She gave it a sharp test, pulling on the band at the back. “No one will be able to pull it off.”
“Exactly what I need. Kimmee, you’re a genius.”
“I am, aren’t I?” She grinned, pleased as punch. “Believe me, sir, I take pride in my work—underhanded as it may be.”
He shook his head. “I don’t consider this underhanded at all.”
And actually, she agreed. “I’ll just think of it this way—anything I can do to help you is for the good of the country.”
He looked at her closely, wondering if she realized who he was. But her smile was open and bland. If she knew, she wasn’t going to let it out. Still, it was interesting that she’d put it that way.
“I’ve got to hurry back,” she said as she started toward the gate. “I’m helping in the ladies’ powder room. You pick up all the best rumors in there.”
“Ah, the ladies like to talk, do they?” he responded, adjusting his stand-up collar.
“They like to impress each other and they forget that we servants can hear, too.” She gave him a happy wave. “I’ll let you know if anything good turns up.”
He nodded. “The juicier the better.”
She laughed as she left, and he sobered. He’d been lighthearted with Kimmee, but in truth, this was quite an emotional experience for him.
He took one last look in the mirror. For the first time in many years, he felt as if he’d found something he really belonged to, something that appealed to his heart as well as his head. It was almost a feeling of coming home.
And home was what he’d missed all these years. Without real parents, without a real family, he’d ached for something of his own.
He’d had an odd and rather disjointed life. For his first eight years, he’d been the much beloved, much cosseted Crown Prince of Ambria, living in the rarified air of royal pomp and celebrity. His mother and father had doted on him. He’d shown every evidence of being as talented and intelligent as his position in life warranted, and also as pleasant and handsome as a prince should be. Everyone in his milieu was in awe of him. The newspapers and magazines were full of pictures of him—his first steps, his first puppy, his new Easter clothes, his first bicycle. It was a charmed life.
And then came the coup. He still remembered the night the castle burned, could still smell the fire, feel the fear. He’d known right away that his parents were probably dead. For an eight-year-old boy, that was a heavy burden to bear.
That night, as he and his brother Darius were rushed away from the castle and hustled to the continent in a rickety boat, he’d looked back and seen the fire, and even at his young age, he’d known his way of life was crumbling into dust just as surely as the castle of his royal ancestors was.
He and Darius were quickly separated and wouldn’t see each other again until they were well into adulthood. For the first few weeks after his escape, he was passed from place to place by agents of the Ambrian royalty, always seeing new contacts, never sure who these people were or why he was with them. People were afraid to be associated with him, yet determined to keep him safe.
As the regime’s crown prince, he was in special danger. The Granvillis had taken over Ambria and it was known that they had sent agents out to find all the royal children and kill them. They didn’t want any remnants of the royal family around to challenge their rule.
Monte finally found himself living in Paris with an older couple, the Stephols, who had ties to the monarchy but also a certain distance that protected them from scrutiny. At first, he had to hide day and night, but after a year or so, the Stephols got employment with the foreign service and from then on, the
y were constantly moving from one assignment to another, and Monte lived all over the world, openly claiming to be their child.
He grew up with the best of everything—elite private schools, vacations in Switzerland, university training in business. But he was always aware that he was in danger and had to keep his real identity a secret. The couple treated him with polite reserve and not a lot of affection—as though he were a museum piece they were protecting from vandals but would return to its proper shelf when the time came. They had no other children and were sometimes too cool for comfort. The couple was very closely knit and Monte often felt like an interloper—which he probably was. They were kind to him, but somewhat reserved, and it was a lonely life. They obviously knew he was special, though he wasn’t sure if they knew exactly who he was.
He knew, though. He remembered a lot and never forgot his family, his country or that he was royal. That in itself made him careful. He remembered the danger, still had nightmares about it. As he got older, it was hard not being able to talk to anyone about his background, not having someone he could question, but he read everything he could about his homeland and began to understand why he had to maintain his anonymity. He knew that some saw him as cold and removed from normal emotions. That wasn’t true. His emotions were simmering inside, ready to explode when the time was right.
Coming back to Ambria had done a lot to help put things in order in his mind. Finding Pellea had confused the issue a bit, but he thought he could handle that. Now, putting on the uniform that should have been his by rights cemented a feeling of belonging in him. He was the Crown Prince of Ambria, and he wanted his country back.
Monte DeAngelis, Crown Prince of Ambria, walked into the ballroom annex in a uniform that reflected his position, and he did it proudly. He knew the authorities were looking for him and it would only take one careless action, one moment of inattention, to make them realize he was the intruder they were searching for.