by Raye Morgan
He looked startled, but before he could protest, she went on.
“As long as my father is ill, I won’t leave Ambria.”
He sighed, making a face but seemingly reconciled to her decision. “People will think it strange,” he noted.
“Let them.”
She knew that disappointed him but it couldn’t be helped. Right now her father was everything to her. He had been her rock all her life, the only human being in this world she could fully trust and believe in and she wasn’t about to abandon him now.
Still, she needed this marriage. Leonardo understood why and was willing to accept the terms she’d agreed to this on. Everything was ready, the wheels had begun to turn, the path was set. As long as nothing got in the way, she should be married within the next week. Until then, she could only hope that nothing would happen to upset the apple cart.
“I’ll come with you,” she said. “Just give me a minute to do a quick change into something more suitable.”
She turned and stepped into her dressing room, pulling the door closed behind her. Moving quickly, she opened her gown and began unbuttoning her lacy dress from the neck down. And then she caught sight of his boots. Her fingers froze on the buttons as she stared at the boots. Her head snapped up and her dark eyes met Monte’s brilliant blue gaze. Every sinew constructing her body went numb.
She was much more than shocked. She was horrified. As the implications of this visit came into focus, she had to clasp her free hand over her mouth to keep from letting out a shriek. For just a moment, she went into a tailspin and could barely keep her balance.
Eyes wide, she stared at him. A thousand thoughts ricocheted through her, bouncing like ping-pong balls against her emotions. Anger, remorse, resentment, joy—even love—they were all there and all aimed straight into those gorgeous blue eyes, rapid-fire. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the floor, shot through the heart.
A part of her was tempted to turn on her heel, summon Leonardo and be done with it. Because she knew as sure as she knew her own name that this would all end badly.
Monte couldn’t be a part of her life. There was no way she could even admit to anyone here in the castle that she knew him. All she had to do was have Leonardo call the guard, and it would be over. They would dispose of him. She would never see him again—never have to think about him again, never again have to cry into her pillow until it was a soggy sponge.
But she knew that was all just bravado. She would never, ever do anything to hurt him if she could help it.
He gave her a crooked grin as though to say, “Didn’t you know I’d be back?”
No, she didn’t know. She hadn’t known. And she still didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t say a word.
Quickly, she turned and looked out into the courtyard. Leonardo was waiting patiently, humming a little tune as he looked at the fountain. Biting her lower lip, she turned and managed to stagger out of the dressing room towards him, stumbling a bit and panting for breath.
“What is it?” he said in alarm, stepping forward to catch her by the shoulders. He’d obviously noted that she was uncharacteristically disheveled. “Are you all right?”
“No.” She flickered a glance his way, thinking fast, then took a deep breath and shook her head. “No. Migraine.”
“Oh, no.” He looked puzzled, but concerned.
She pulled away from his grip on her shoulders, regaining her equilibrium with effort.
“I…I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can come with you right now. I can hardly even think straight.”
“But you were fine thirty seconds ago,” he noted, completely at sea.
“Migraines come on fast,” she told him, putting a hand to the side of her head and wincing. “But a good lie-down will fix me up. How about…after tea?” She looked at him earnestly. “I’ll meet you then. Say, five o’clock?”
Leonardo frowned, but he nodded. “All right. I’ve got a tennis match at three, so that will work out fine.” He looked at her with real concern, but just a touch of wariness.
“I hope this won’t affect your ability to go to the ball tonight.”
“Oh, no, of course not.”
“Everyone is expecting our announcement to be made there. And you will be wearing the tiara, won’t you?”
She waved him away. “Leonardo, don’t worry. I’ll be wearing the tiara and all will be as planned. I should be fine by tonight.”
“Good.” He still seemed wary. “But you should see Dr. Dracken. I’ll send him up.”
“No!” She shook her head. “I just need to rest. Give me a few hours. I’ll be good as new.”
He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “As you wish.” He bent over her hand like a true suitor. “Until we meet again, my beloved betrothed.”
She nodded, almost pushing him toward the gate. “Likewise, I’m sure,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.
“Pip pip.” And he was off.
She waited until she heard the outer gate clang, then turned like a fury and marched back into the dressing room. She ripped open the door and glared at Monte with a look in her eyes that should have frozen the blood in his veins.
“How dare you? How dare you do this?”
Her vehemence was actually throwing him off his game a bit. He had expected a little more joy at seeing him again. He was enjoying the sight of her. Why couldn’t she feel the same?
She really was a feast for the senses. Her eyes were bright—even if that seemed to be anger for the moment—and her cheeks were smudged pink.
“How dare you do this to me again?” she demanded.
“This isn’t like before,” he protested. “This is totally different.”
“Really? Here you are, sneaking into my country, just like before. Here you are, hiding in my chambers again. Just like before.”
His smile was meant to be beguiling. “But this time, when I leave, you’re going with me.”
She stared at him, hating him and loving him at the same time. Going with him! What a dream that was. She could no more go with him than she could swim the channel. If only…
For just a split second, she allowed herself to give in to her emotions. If only things were different. How she would love to throw herself into his arms and hold him tight, to feel his hard face against hers, to sense his heart pound as his interest quickened…
But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t even think about it. She’d spent too many nights dreaming of him, dreaming of his tender touch. She had to forget all that. Too many lives depended on her. She couldn’t let him see the slightest crack in her armor.
And most of all, she couldn’t let him know about the baby.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded coldly. “Oh, wait. Don’t even try to tell me. You’ll just lie.”
The provocative expression in his eyes changed to ice in an instant.
“Pellea, I’m not a liar,” he said in a low, urgent tone. “I’ll tell you or I won’t, but what I say will be the truth as I know it every time. Count on it.”
Their gazes locked in mutual indignation. Pellea was truly angry with him for showing up like this, for complicating her life and endangering them both, and yet she knew she was using that anger as a shield. If he touched her, she would surely melt. Just looking at him did enough damage to her determined stance.
Why did he have to be so beautiful? With his dark hair and shocking blue eyes, he had film-star looks, but that wasn’t all. He was tall, muscular, strong in a way that would make any woman swoon. He looked tough, capable of holding his own in a fight, and yet there was nothing cocky about him. He had a quiet confidence that made any form of showing off unnecessary. You just knew by looking at him that he was ready for any challenge—physical or intellectual.
But how about emotional? Despite all his strength, there was a certain sensitivity deep in his blue eyes. The sort of hint of vulnerability only a woman might notice. Or was that just hopeful dreaming on her part?
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br /> “Never mind all that,” she said firmly. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
His anger drifted away like morning fog and his eyes were smiling again. “After I’ve gone to so much trouble to get in?”
Oh, please don’t smile at me! she begged silently. This was difficult enough without this charm offensive clouding her mind. She glared back.
“You are going. This very moment would be a good time to do it.”
His gaze caressed her cheek. “How can I leave now that I’ve found you again?”
She gritted her teeth. “You’re not going to mesmerize me like you did last time. You’re not staying here at all.” She pointed toward the gate. “I want you to go.”
He raised one dark eyebrow and made no move toward the door. “You going to call the guard?”
Her eyes blazed at him. “If I have to.”
He looked pained. “Actually, I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Then you’d better go, hadn’t you?”
He sighed and managed to look as though he regretted all this. “I can’t leave yet. Not without what I came for.”
She threw up her hands. “That has nothing to do with me.”
His smile was back. “That’s where you’re wrong. You see, it’s you that I came for. How do you feel about a good old-fashioned kidnapping?”
CHAPTER TWO
PELLEA BLINKED QUICKLY, but that was the only sign she allowed to show his words had shocked her—rocked her, actually, to the point where she almost needed to reach out and hold on to something to keep from falling over.
Monte had come to kidnap her? Was he joking? Or was he crazy?
“Really?” With effort, she managed to fill her look with mock disdain. “How do you propose to get me past all the guards and barriers? How do you think you’ll manage that without someone noticing? Especially when I’ll be fighting you every step of the way and creating a scene and doing everything else I can think of to ruin your silly kidnapping scheme?”
“I’ve got a plan.” He favored her with a knowing grin.
“Oh, I see.” Eyes wide, she turned with a shrug, as though asking the world to judge him. “He’s got a plan. Say no more.”
He followed her. “You scoff, Pellea. But you’ll soon see things my way.”
She whirled to face him and her gaze sharpened as she remembered his last visit. “How do you get in here, anyway? You’ve never explained that.” She shook her head, considering him from another angle. “There are guards everywhere. How do you get past them?”
His grin widened. “Secrets of the trade, my dear.”
“And just what is your trade these days?” she asked archly. “Second-story man?”
“No, Pellea.” His grin faded. Now they were talking about serious things. “Actually, I still consider myself the royal heir to the Ambrian throne.”
She rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that one.”
He turned and met her gaze with an intensity that burned. “I’m the Crown Prince of Ambria. Hadn’t you heard? I thought you understood that.”
She stared back at him. “That’s over,” she said softly, searching his eyes. “Long over.”
He shook his head slowly, his blue eyes burning with a surreal light. “No. It’s real and it’s now. And very soon, the world will know it.”
Fear gripped her heart. What he was suggesting was war. People she loved would be hurt. And yet…
Reaching out, she touched him, forgetting her vow not to. She flattened her palm against his chest and felt his heartbeat, felt the heat and the flesh of him.
“Oh, please, Monte,” she whispered, her eyes filled with the sadness of a long future of suffering. “Please, don’t…”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the center of her palm without losing his hold on her gaze for a moment. “I won’t let anything hurt you,” he promised, though he knew he might as well whistle into the wind. Once his operation went into action, all bets would be off. “You know that.”
She shook her head, rejecting what he’d said. “No, Monte, I don’t know that. You plan to come in here and rip our lives apart. Once you start a revolution, you start a fire in the people and you can’t control where that fire will burn. There will be pain and agony on all sides. There always is.”
His shrug was elaborate on purpose. “There was pain and agony that night twenty-five years ago when my mother and my father were killed by the Granvillis. When I and my brothers and sisters were spirited off into the night and told to forget we were royal. In one fire-ravaged night, we lost our home, our kingdom, our destiny and our parents.” His head went back and he winced as though the pain was still fresh. “What do you want me to do? Forgive those who did that to me and mine?”
A look of pure determination froze his face into the mask of a warrior. “I’ll never do that. They need to pay.”
She winced. Fear gripped her heart. She knew what this meant. Her own beloved father was counted among Monte’s enemies. But she also knew that he was strong and determined, and he meant what he threatened. Wasn’t there any way she could stop this from happening?
The entry gong sounded, making them both jump.
“Yes?” she called out, hiding her alarm.
“Excuse me, Miss Marallis,” a voice called in. “It’s Sergeant Fromer. I just wanted to check what time you wanted us to bring the tiara by.”
“The guard,” she whispered, looking at Monte sharply. “I should ask him in right now.”
He held her gaze. “But you won’t,” he said softly.
She stared at him for a long moment. She wanted with all her heart to prove him wrong. She should do it. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it?
“Miss?” the guard called in again.
“Uh, sorry, Sergeant Fromer.” She looked at Monte again and knew she wouldn’t do it. She shook her head, ashamed of herself. “About seven would be best,” she called to him. “The hairdresser should be here by then.”
“Will do. Thank you, miss.”
And he was gone, carrying with him all hope for sanity. She stared at the area of the gate.
There it was—another chance to do the right thing and rid herself of this menace to her peace of mind forever. Why couldn’t she follow through? She turned and looked at Monte, her heart sinking. Was she doomed? Not if she stayed strong. This couldn’t be like it was before. She’d been vulnerable the last time. She’d just had the horrible fight with her father that she had been dreading for years, and when Monte had jumped into her life, she was in the mood to do dangerous things.
The first time she’d seen him, he’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere and found her sobbing beside her fountain. She’d just come back to her chambers from that fight and she’d been sick at heart, hating that she’d hurt the man she loved most in the world—her father. And so afraid that she would have to do what he wanted her to do anyway.
Her father’s health had begun to fade at that point, but he wasn’t bedridden yet, as he was now. He’d summoned her to his room and told her in no uncertain terms that he expected her to marry Leonardo. And she’d told him in similar fashion that she would have to be dragged kicking and screaming to the altar. No other way would work. He’d called her an ungrateful child and had brought up the fact that she was looking to be an old maid soon if she didn’t get herself a husband. She’d called him an overbearing parent and threatened to marry the gardener.
That certainly got a response, but it was mainly negative and she regretted having said such a thing now. But he’d been passionate, almost obsessive about the need for her to marry Leonardo.
“Marry the man. You’ve known him all your life. You get along fine. He wants you, and as his wife, you’ll have so much power…”
“Power!” she’d responded with disdain. “All you care about is power.”
His face had gone white. “Power is important,” he told her in a clipped, hard voice. “As much as you may try to pretend otherwise, it rules
our lives.” And then, haltingly, he’d told her the story of what had happened to her mother—the real story this time, not the one she’d grown up believing.
“Victor Halma wanted her,” he said, naming the man who had been the Granvillis’ top enforcer when Pellea was a very small child.
“Wha-what do you mean?” she’d stammered. There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and she was afraid she understood only too well.
“He was always searching her out in the halls, showing up unexpectedly whenever she thought she was safe. He wouldn’t leave her alone. She was in a panic.”
She closed her eyes and murmured, “My poor mother.”
“There was still a lot of hostility toward me because I had worked with the DeAngelis royal family before the revolution,” he went on. “I wasn’t trusted then as I am now. I tried to fight him, but it was soon apparent I had no one on my side.” He drew in a deep breath. “I was sent on a business trip to Paris. He made his move while I was gone.”
“Father…”
“You see, I had no power.” His face, already pale, took on a haggard look. “I couldn’t refuse to go. And once I was gone, he forced her to go to his quarters.”
Pellea gasped, shivering as though an icy blast had swept into the room.
“She tried to run away, but he had the guard drag her into his chamber and lock her in. And there, while she was waiting, she found a knife and killed herself before he could…” His voice trailed off.
Pellea’s hands clutched her throat. “You always told me she died during an influenza epidemic,” she choked out. She was overwhelmed with this news, and yet, deep down, she’d always known there was something she wasn’t being told.
He nodded. “That was what I told you. That was what I told everyone. And there was an epidemic at the time. But she didn’t die of influenza. She died of shame.”
Pellea swayed. The room seemed to dip and swerve around her. “And the man?” she asked hoarsely.
“He had an unfortunate accident soon after,” her father said dryly, making it clear he wasn’t about to go into details. “But you understand me, don’t you? You see the position we were in? That’s what happens when you don’t have power.”