CROWN PRINCE,

PREGNANT BRIDE!

RAYE MORGAN

VALENTINE BRIDE

CHRISTINE RIMMER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CROWN PRINCE,

PREGNANT BRIDE!

RAYE MORGAN

Dear Reader,

For the island nation of Ambria, the time of reckoning is fast approaching. The storm is gathering. Retribution for what was done to the DeAngelis royal family when their country was torn from them is at hand —and Pellea Marallis, promised to the usurper’s heir, knows it very well.

Monte DeAngelis, the Crown Prince, has come back to claim what is his. For most of his life he’s known exactly what that is. Only now does he see that his need has grown. Though he never thought he would let a woman blur the intensity of his determination, Pellea is doing just that. In the grand scheme of things he is afraid he may just ache for her more strongly than he craves revenge.

The more he tries to deny it, and the more Pellea tries to hold him off, the deeper his desire goes —and once he realises she is carrying his child he knows there is no turning back. They make their way through the castle corridors, exploring secret rooms, tricking guards, attending a masked ball and stealing a prized artifact. But when Monte escapes along an ancient passageway Pellea refuses to go with him. She’s torn between her love for Monte and her devotion to her dying father. Will she be caught up in the coming war and pay the ultimate price for her divided loyalties?

Well, you know the drill —you’ll have to read the book to find out!

Hope you enjoy it —all the best,

Raye Morgan

About the Author

RAYE MORGAN has been a nursery school teacher, a travel agent, a clerk and a business editor, but her best job ever has been writing romances —and fostering romance in her own family at the same time. Current score: two boys married, two more to go. Raye has published over seventy romances, and claims to have many more waiting in the wings. She lives in Southern California with her husband and whichever son happens to be staying at home at the moment.

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 brushed 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.”

“Do you expect anything specific?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Just the usual gnashing of teeth and bellowing of threats. We can easily handle it.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “Then why postpone? Why not move the date up instead?”

He reached out and tousled her hair. “Ah, my little buttercup. So eager to be wed.”

She pushed his hand away, then turned toward the fountain in the middle of the courtyard and shrugged elaborately. “‘If it were done when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well it were done quickly,’” she muttered darkly.

“What’s that my sweet?” he said, following into the sunshine.

“Nothing.” She turned back to face him. “I will, of course, comply with your wishes. But for my own purposes, a quick wedding would be best.”

He nodded, though his eyes were hooded. “I understand. Your father’s condition and all that.” He shrugged. “I’ll talk to my father and we’ll hit upon a date, I’m sure.” His gaze flickered over her and he smiled. “To think that after all this time, and all the effort you’ve always gone to in putting me off, I’m finally going to end up with the woman of my dreams.” He almost seemed to tear up a bit. “It restores one’s faith, doesn’t it?”

“Absolutely.” She couldn’t help but smile back at him, though she was shaking her head at the same time. “Oh, Leonardo, I sometimes think it would be better if you found someone to love.”

He looked shocked. “What are you talking about? You know very well you’ve always been my choice.”

“I said love,” she retorted. “Not desire to possess.”

He shrugged. “To each his own.”

Pellea sighed but she was still smiling.

Monte watched this exchange while cold anger spread through him like a spell, turning him from a normal man into something akin to a raging monster. And yet, he didn’t move a muscle. He stood frozen, as though cast in stone. Only his mind and his emotions were alive.

And his hatred. He hated Leonardo, hated Leonardo’s father, hated his entire family.

Bit by bit, the anger was banked and set aside to smolder. He was experienced enough to know white-hot emotional ire led to mistakes every time. He wouldn’t make any mistakes. He needed to keep his head clear and his emotions in check.

All of them, good and bad.

One step at a time, he made himself relax. His body control was exceptional and he used it now. He wanted to keep cool so that he would catch the exact right time to strike. It wouldn’t be now. That would be foolish. But it would be soon.

He hadn’t been prepared for something like this. The time he and Pellea had spent together just a few weeks before had been magical. He’d been hungry to see her again, aching to touch her, eager to catch her lips with his and feel that soaring sense of wonder again. He had promised himself there would be no lovemaking to distract him this time—but he’d been kidding himself. The moment he saw her he knew he had to have her in his arms again.

That was all. Nothing serious, nothing permanent. A part of him had known she would have to marry someone—eventually. But still, to think that she would marry this…this…

Words failed him.

“I’d like you to come down to the library. We need to look at the plans for the route to the retreat in the gilded carriage after we are joined as one,” Leonardo was saying.

“No honeymoon,” she said emphatically, raising both hands as though to emphasize her words. “I told you that from the beginning.”

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?

“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.”

“Or when you work for horrible people,” she shot back passionately.

Shaking his head, he almost smiled. “The strange thing was, the Granvillis started to trust me after that. I moved up in the ranks. I gained power.” He looked at his daughter sternly. “Today, nothing like that could happen to me. And what I want for you is that same sort of immunity from harm.”

She understood what he wanted for her. She ached with love for him, ached for what he’d gone through, ached for what her own mother had endured. Her heart broke for them all.

But she still hadn’t been able to contemplate marrying Leonardo. Not then.

To some degree, she could relate to his obsession to get and hold power. Still, it was his obsession, not hers and she had no interest in making the sort of down payment on a sense of control that marrying Leonardo would entail.

But this had been the condition she’d been in when she’d first looked up and found Monte standing in her courtyard. She knew she’d never seen him before, and that was unusual. This was a small country and most in the castle had been there for years. You tended to know everyone you ran into, at least by sight. She’d jumped up and looked toward the gate, as though to run.

But he’d smiled. Something in that smile captivated her every time, and it had all begun that afternoon.

“Hi,” he’d said. “I’m running from some castle guards. Mind if I hide in here?”

Even as he spoke, she heard the guards at the gate. And just that quickly, she became a renegade.

“Hurry, hide in there,” she’d said, pointing to her bedroom. “Behind the bookcase.” She’d turned toward the gate. “I’ll deal with the guards.”

And so began her life as an accomplice to a criminal—and so also her infatuation with the most wrong man she could have fallen in love with.

Monte didn’t really appreciate the effort all this had cost her. He’d taken it for granted that she would send the guard away. She’d done the same thing the last time he was here—and that had been more dangerous for them both—because they’d already seen him in the halls at that point. The whole castle was turned upside down for the next two days as they hunted for him. And the entire time, she’d had him hidden in her bedroom.

No one knew he was here now except Pellea—so far.

“Was that the DeAngelis tiara you were talking about just now?” he asked her. “I thought I heard Leonardo bring it up.”

She glared at him. “How long have you been here spying on me? What else did you hear?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What else didn’t you want me to hear?”

She threw her hands up.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “The wedding-dress-design discussion and your talk with Leonardo were about it.”

They both turned to look at the beautiful gown hanging against a tall, mahogany wardrobe. “Is this the gown you’re wearing to the ball tonight?”

“Yes.”

It was stunning. Black velvet swirled against deep green satin. It hung before him looking as though it was already filled with a warm, womanly body. Reaching out, he spanned the waist of it with his hands and imagined dancing with her.

“The DeAngelis tiara will look spectacular with this,” he told her.

“Do you remember what it looks like?” she asked in surprise.

“Not in great detail. But I’ve seen pictures.” He gave her a sideways look of irony. “My mother’s tiara.”

She shivered, pulling her arms in close about her. “It hasn’t been your mother’s tiara for a long, long time,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so defensive.

He nodded slowly. “My mother’s and that of every other queen of Ambria going back at least three centuries,” he added softly, almost to himself.

She shivered again. “I’m sure you’re right.”

His smile was humorless. “To the victor go the spoils.”

“I didn’t make the rules.” Inside, she groaned. Still defensive. But she did feel the guilt of the past. How could she not?

“And yet, it will take more than twenty-five years to erase the memories that are centuries old. Memories of what my family accomplished here.”

She bit her lip, then looked at him, looked at the sense of tragedy in his beautiful blue eyes, and felt the tug on her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, reaching for him and putting a hand on his upper arm. “I’m sorry that I have to wear your mother’s tiara. They’ve asked me to do it and I said yes.”

He covered her hand with his own and turned toward her. She recognized the light in his eyes and knew he wanted to kiss her. Her pulse raced, but she couldn’t let it happen. Quickly, she pulled away.

He sighed, shaking his head in regret, but his mind was still on something else.

“Where is it?” he asked, looking around the wardrobe. “Where do you keep it?”

“The tiara?” She searched his eyes. What was he thinking? “It’s in its case in the museum room, where it always is. Didn’t you hear Sergeant Fromer? The guards will bring it to me just before I leave for the ball. And they will accompany me to the ballroom. The tiara is under guard at all times.”

He nodded, eyeing her speculatively. “And so shall you be, once you put it on.”

“I imagine so.”

He nodded again, looking thoughtful. “I was just reading an article about it the other day,” he said, half musing. “Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, all huge and of superior quality. Not to mention the wonderful craftsmanship of the tiara itself. It’s estimated to be worth more than some small countries are.”

Suddenly she drew her breath in. She hadn’t known him long, but she was pretty sure she knew a certain side of him all too well.

“Oh, no you don’t!” she cried, all outrage.

He looked at her in surprise. “What?”

She glared at him. “You’re thinking about grabbing it, aren’t you?”

“The tiara?” He stared at her for a moment and then he threw his head back and laughed. That was actually a fabulous idea. He liked the way she thought.

“Pellea,” he said, taking her by the shoulders and dropping a kiss on her forehead. “You are perfection itself. You can’t marry Leonardo.”

She shivered. She couldn’t help it. His touch was like agony and ecstasy, all rolled into one. But she kept her head about her.

“Who shall I marry then?” she responded quickly. “Are you ready to give me an offer?”

He stared at her, not responding. How could he say anything? He couldn’t make her an offer. He couldn’t marry her. And anyway, he might be dead by the end of the summer.

Besides, there was another factor. If he was going to be ruler of Ambria, could he marry the daughter of his family’s biggest betrayer? Not likely.

“I think kidnapping will work out better,” he told her, and he wasn’t joking.

She’d known he would say that, or something similar. She knew he was attracted to her. That, he couldn’t hide. But she was a realist and she also knew he hated her father and the current regime with which she was allied. How could it be any other way? He could talk about taking her with him all he wanted, she knew there was no future for her there.

“I’ll fight you all the way,” she said flatly.

He smiled down into her fierce eyes. “There’s always the best option, of course.”

“And what is that?”

“That you come with me willingly.”

She snorted. “Right. Before or after I marry Leonardo?”

He looked pained. “I can’t believe you’re serious.”

She raised her chin and glared at him. “I am marrying Leonardo in four days. I hope.”

He brushed the stray hairs back off her cheek and his fingers lingered, caressing her silken skin. “But why?” he asked softly.

“Because I want to,” she responded stoutly. “I’ve promised I will do it and I mean to keep that promise.”

Resolutely, she turned away from him and began searching through a clothes rack, looking for the clothes she meant to change into.

He came up behind her. “Is it because of your father?”

She whirled and stared at him. “Leave my father out of this.”

“Ah-hah. So it is your father.”

She turned back to searching through the hangers. He watched her for a moment, thinking that he’d never known a woman whose movements were so fluid. Every move she made was almost a part of a dance. And watching her turned him on in ways that were bound to cripple his ability to think clearly. He shook his head. He couldn’t let that happen, not if he wanted to succeed here.

“Leonardo,” he scoffed. “Please. Why Leonardo?”

Unconsciously, she cupped her hand over her belly. There was a tiny baby growing inside. He must never know that. He was the last person she could tell—ever. “It’s my father’s fondest wish.”

“Because he might become ruler of Ambria?”

“Yes.” How could she deny it? “And because he asked.”

That set him back a moment. “What if I asked?” he ventured.

She turned to him, but his eyes showed nothing that could give her any hope. “Ah, but you won’t, will you?”

He looked away. “Probably not.”

“There’s your answer.”

“Where is Georges?” he asked, naming the Granvilli who had killed his parents. “What does he say about all this?”

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “The General seems to be unwell right now. I’m not sure what the specific problem is, but he’s resting in the seaside villa at Grapevine Bay. Leonardo has been taking over more and more of the responsibilities of power himself.” She raised her head and looked him squarely in the eye. “And the work seems to suit him.”

“Does it? I hope he’s enjoying himself. He won’t have much longer to do that, as I intend to take that job away from him shortly.”

She threw up her hands, not sure if he meant it or if this was just typical male bombast. “What exactly do you mean to do?” she asked, trying to pin him down.

He looked at her and smiled, coming closer, touching her hair with one hand.

“Nothing that you need to worry about.”

But his thoughts were not nearly as sanguine as he pretended. She really had no conception of how deep his anger lay and how his hatred had eaten away at him for most of his life. Ever since that night when the castle had burned and his parents were murdered by the Granvilli clan. Payment was due. Retribution was pending.

“Is your father really very ill?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” She found the shirt she wanted and pulled it down.

“And you want to make him happy before he…”

He swallowed his next words even before she snapped her head around and ordered curtly, “Don’t say it!”

He bit his tongue. That was a stupid thing to have thought, even if he never actually got the words out. He didn’t mind annoying her about things he didn’t think she should care so much about, but to annoy her about her father was just plain counterproductive.

“Well, he would like to see you become the future first lady of the land, wouldn’t he?” he amended lamely.

He tried to think of what he knew about her father. Marallis had been considered an up-and-coming advisor in his own father’s regime. From what he’d been able to glean, the king had recognized his superior abilities and planned to place him in a top job. And then the rebellion had swept over them, and it turned out Vaneck Marallis had signed on with the other side. Was it any wonder he should feel betrayed by the man? He was the enemy. He very likely gave the rebels the inside information they needed to win the day. There was no little corner of his heart that had any intention of working on forgiveness for the man.

“Okay, it’s getting late,” she said impatiently. “I have to go check on my father.”

“Because he’s ill?”

“Because he’s very ill.” She knew she needed to elaborate, but when she tried to speak, her throat choked and she had to pause, waiting for her voice to clear again. “I always go in to see him for a few minutes at this time in the afternoon.” She looked at him. “When I get back, we’ll have to decide what I’m going to do with you.”

“Will we?” His grin was ample evidence of his opinion on the matter, but she turned away and didn’t bother to challenge him.

Going to her clothes rack, she pulled out a trim, cream-colored linen suit with slacks and a crisp jacket and slipped behind a privacy screen to change into them. He watched as she emerged, looking quietly efficient and good at whatever job she might be attempting. And ravishingly beautiful at the same time. He’d never known another woman who impressed him as much as this one did. Once again he had a pressing urge to find a way to take her with him.

It wouldn’t be impossible. She thought he would have to get her past the guards, but she was wrong. He had his own way into the castle and he could easily get her out. But only if she was at least halfway cooperative. It was up to him to convince her to be.

“I don’t have time to decide what to do with you right now,” she told him, her gaze hooded as she met his eyes. “I have to go check on my father, and it’s getting late. You stay here and hold down the fort. I’ll be back in about half an hour.”

“I may be here,” he offered casually. “Or not.”

She hesitated. She didn’t like that answer. “Tell me now, are you going to stay here and wait, or are you going to go looking for Leonardo and get killed?” she demanded of him.

He laughed shortly. “I think I can handle myself around your so-called fiancé,” he said dismissively.

Her gaze sharpened and she looked seriously into his eyes. “Watch out for Leonardo. He’ll kill you without batting an eye.”

“Are you serious? That prancing prig?”

She shook her head. “Don’t be fooled by his veneer of urbanity. He’s hard as nails. When I suggested you might be killed, I meant it.”

He searched her eyes for evidence that she really cared. It was there, much as she tried to hide it. He smiled.

“I’m not too keen on the ‘killed’ part. But as for the rest…”

She glanced at her watch. Time was fleeting. “I’m running out of time,” she told him. “Go out and wait in the courtyard. I just have one last thing to check.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

She looked pained. “None of your business. I do have my privacy to maintain. Now go out and wait.”

He walked out into the lush courtyard and heard the door click shut behind him. Turning, he could see her through the glass door, walking back into her closet again. Probably changed her mind on what to wear, he thought to himself. And he had a twinge of regret. He didn’t have all that much time here and he hated to think of missing a moment with her.

Did that mean he’d given up on the kidnapping? No. Not at all. Still, there was more to this trip than just seeing Pellea.

He scanned the courtyard and breathed in the atmosphere. The castle of his ancestors was all around him. For a few minutes, he thought about his place in history. Would he be able to restore the monarchy? Would he bring his family back to their rightful place, where they should have been all along?

Of course he would. He didn’t allow doubts. His family belonged here and he would see that it happened. He’d already found two of his brothers, part of the group of “Lost Royals” who had escaped when the castle was burned and had hidden from the wrath of the Granvillis ever since. There were two more brothers and two sisters he hadn’t found yet. But he hoped to. He hoped to bring them all back here to Ambria by the end of the summer.

He turned and looked through the French doors into her bedroom and saw the huge, soft bed where he’d spent most of the two and a half days when he’d been here before. Memories flooded back. He remembered her and her luscious body and he groaned softly, feeling the surge of desire again.

Pellea was special. He couldn’t remember another woman who had ever stuck in his mind the way she did. She’d embedded herself into his heart, his soul, his imagination, and he didn’t even want to be free of her. And that was a revelation.

If he survived this summer…

No, he couldn’t promise anything, not even to himself. After all, her father was the man who had betrayed his family. He couldn’t let himself forget that.

But where was she? She’d been gone a long time. He turned back and looked at the closed doors to her dressing room, then moved to them and called softly, “Pellea.”

There was no response.

“Pellea?”

Still nothing. He didn’t want to make his call any louder. You never knew who might be at the gate or near enough to it to hear his voice. He tried the knob instead, pushing the door open a bit and calling again, “Pellea?”

There was no answer. It was quite apparent she wasn’t there.

CHAPTER THREE

ALARM BELLS RANG IN Monte’s head and adrenaline flooded his system. Where had she gone? How had she escaped without him seeing her? What was she doing? Had he overestimated his ability to charm, compared to Leonardo’s ability to hand out a power position? Was she a traitor, just like her father?

All that flashed through his mind, sending him reeling. But that only lasted seconds before he’d dismissed it out of hand. She wouldn’t do that. There had to be a reason.

The last he’d seen of her she was heading into her large, walk-in closet at the far side of the dressing room. He was there in two strides, and that is when he saw, behind a clothing bar loaded with fluffy gowns, the glimmer of something electronic just beyond a door that had been left slightly ajar.

A secret room behind the clothing storage. Who knew? He certainly hadn’t known anything about it when he’d been here before.

Reaching in through the gowns, he pushed the door fully open. And there was Pellea, sitting before a large computer screen that was displaying a number of windows, all showing places in the castle itself. She had a whole command center in here.

“Why you little vixen,” he said, astounded. “What do you have here? You’ve tapped into a gold mine.”

She looked up at him, startled, and then resigned.

“I knew I should have closed that door all the way,” she muttered to herself.

But he was still captured by the computer screen. “This is the castle security system, isn’t it?”

She sighed. “Yes. You caught me.”

He shook his head, staring at the screen. “How did you do that?” he asked in wonder.

She shrugged. “My father had this secret room installed years ago. Whenever he wanted to take a look at what was going on, he came to me for a visit. I didn’t use it myself at first. I didn’t see any need for it. But lately, I’ve found it quite handy.”

“And you can keep things running properly on your own?”

“I’ve got a certain amount of IT talent. I’ve read a few books.”

He looked at her and smiled. “My admiration grows.”

She colored a bit and looked away.

“So you can see what’s going on at all the major interior intersections, and a few of the outside venues as well. How convenient.” His mind was racing with possibilities.

She pushed away from the desk and sighed again. “Monte, I shouldn’t have let you see this.”

“You didn’t let me. I did it all on my own.” He shook his head, still impressed. “Are you going to tell me why?”

She sighed again. “There are times when one might want to do things without being observed. Here in the castle, someone is always watching.” She shrugged. “I like a little anonymity in my life. This way I can get a pretty good idea of who is doing what and I can bide my time.”

“I see.”

She rose and turned toward the door. “And now I really am late.” She looked back. He followed her out reluctantly and she closed the door carefully. It seemed to disappear into the background of paneling and molding strips that surrounded it.

“See you later,” she said, leading him away from the area. “And stay out of that room.”

He frowned as she started off. He didn’t want her to leave, and he also didn’t want to miss out on anything he didn’t have to. On impulse, he called after her, “I want to go with you.”

She whirled and stared at him. “What?”

“I’d like to see your father.”

She came back towards him, shocked and looking for a way to refuse. “But you can’t. He’s bedridden. He’s in no condition…”

“I won’t show myself to him. I won’t hurt him.” He shook his head and frowned. “But, Pellea, he’s one of the few remaining ties to my parents left alive. He’s from their generation. He knew them, worked with them. He was close to them at one time.” He shrugged, looking oddly vulnerable in his emotional reactions. “I just want to see him, hear his voice. I promise I won’t do anything to jeopardize his health—or even his emotional well-being in any way.”

She studied him and wondered what she really knew about him. The way he felt about her father had been clear almost from the first. He was wrong about her father. She’d spent a lot of time agonizing over that, wondering how she could make him understand that her father was just a part of his time and place, that he had only done what he had to do, that he was really a man of great compassion and honesty. Maybe this would be a chance to do just that.

“You won’t confront him about anything?”

“No. I swear.” He half smiled. “I swear on my parents’ memories. Do you trust me?”

She groaned. “God help me, I do.” She searched his eyes. “All right. But you’ll have to be careful. If you’re caught, I’ll claim you forced me to take you with me.”

He smiled at her sideways, knowing she was lying. If he were caught, she would do her best to free him. She talked a good game, but deep down, she had a lot of integrity. And she was at least half in love with him. That gave him a twinge. More the fool was she.

“I only go when no one else is there,” she was telling him. “I know when the nurse goes on her break and how long she takes.”

He nodded. He’d always known she was quick and sure at everything she did. He would have expected as much from her.

“Keep your eyes downcast,” she lectured as they prepared to head into the hallway. “I try to go at a quiet time of day, but there might be someone in the halls. Don’t make eye contact with anyone or you’ll surely blow your cover. You can’t help but look regal, can you? Take smaller steps. Try to slump your shoulders a little. A little more.” She made a face. “Here.” She whacked one shoulder to make it droop, and then the other, a tiny smile on her lips. “That’s better,” she said with satisfaction.

He was suspicious. She hadn’t held back much. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“Giving you a whack?” She allowed herself a tight smile. “Certainly not. I don’t believe in corporal punishment.”

“Liar.” He was laughing at her. “Are you going to try to convince me that it hurt you more than it hurt me?”

She didn’t bother to respond. Giving him a look, she stepped out into the hallway, wondering if she was crazy to do this. But she was being honest when she said she trusted him to come along and see her father with her. Was she letting her heart rule her head? Probably. But she’d made her decision and she would stick to it.

Still, that didn’t mean she was sanguine about it all. Why had he come back? Why now, just when she had everything set the way it had to be?

And why was her heart beating like a caged bird inside her chest? It didn’t matter that she loved him. She couldn’t ever be with him again. She had a baby to think about. And no time to indulge in emotions. Taking Monte with her was a risk, but she didn’t really have a lot of choice—unless she wanted to turn him in to the guard.

She thought about doing exactly that for a few seconds, a smile playing on her lips. That would take them back full circle, wouldn’t it? But it wasn’t going to happen.

Don’t worry, sweet baby, she said silently to her child. I won’t let anything hurt your father. She said a tiny prayer and added, I hope.

Monte wasn’t often haunted by self-doubt. In fact, his opinions and decisions were usually rock-solid. Once made, no wavering. But watching Pellea with her father gave him a sense that the earth might not be quite as firm under his feet as he’d assumed.

In the first place, he wasn’t really sure why she’d let him come with her. She knew how the need for retribution burned in him and yet she’d let him come here where he would have a full view of the man, his enemy, lying there, helpless. Didn’t she know how dangerous that was?

It would be easy to harm the old man. He was still handsome in an aged, fragile way, like a relic of past power. His face was drawn and lined, his color pale, his thin hair silver. Blue veins stood out in his slender hands. He was so vulnerable, so completely defenseless. Someone who moved on pure gut reaction would have done him in by now. Luckily, that wasn’t Monte’s style. He would never do such a thing, but she didn’t really know that. She’d taken a risk. But for what?

He watched as the object of his long, deep hatred struggled to talk to the daughter he obviously loved more than life itself, and he found his emotions tangling a bit. Could he really feel pity for a man who had helped ruin his family?

No. That couldn’t happen.

Still, an element confused the issue. And to be this close to someone who had lived with and worked with his parents gave him a special sense of his own history. He couldn’t deny that.

And there was something else, a certain primal longing that he couldn’t control. He’d had it ever since that day twenty-five years ago when he’d been rushed out of the burning castle, and he had forever lost his parents. He’d grown up with all the privileges of his class: the schools, the high life, the international relationships. But he would have thrown it all out if that could have bought him a real, loving family—the kind you saw in movies, the kind you dreamed about in the middle of the night. Instead, he had this empty ache in his heart.

And that made watching Pellea and her father all the more effective. From his position in the entryway, he could see her bending lovingly over her father and dropping a kiss on his forehead. She talked softly to him, wiping his forehead with a cool, damp cloth, straightening his covers, plumping his pillow. The love she had for the man radiated from her every move. And he felt very similarly. She was obviously a brilliant bit of sun in his rather dark life.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Much better now that you’re here, my dear.”

“I’m only here for a moment. I must get back. The masked ball is tonight.”

“Ah, yes.” He took hold of her hand. “So tonight you and Leonardo will announce your engagement?”

“Yes. Leonardo is prepared.”

“What a relief to have this coming so quickly. To be able to see you protected before I go…”

“Don’t talk about going.”

“We all have to do it, my dear. My time has come.”

Pellea made a dove-like noise and bent down to kiss his cheek. “No. You just need to get out more. See some people.” Rising a bit, she had a thought. “I know. I’ll have the nurse bring you to the ball so that you can see for yourself….”

“Hush, Pellea,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m comfortable here and I’m too weak to leave this bed.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. She’d known he would say that, but she’d hoped he might change his mind and try to take a step back into the world. A deep, abiding sadness settled into her soul as she faced the fact that he wasn’t even tempted to try. He was preparing for the end, and nothing she said or did would change that. Tears threatened and she forced them back. She would have to save her grieving for another time.

Right now, she had another goal in mind. She was hoping to prove something to Monte, and she was gambling that her father would respond in the tone and tenor that she’d heard from him so often before. If he went in a different direction, there was no telling what might happen. Glancing back at where Monte stood in the shadows, she made her decision. She was going to risk it—her leap of faith.

“Father, do you ever think of the past? About how we got here and why we are the way we are?”

He coughed and nodded. “I think of very little else these days.”

“Do you think about the night the castle burned?”

“That was before you were born.”

“Yes. But I feel as though that night molded my life in many ways.”

He grasped her hand as though to make her stop it. “But why? It had nothing to do with you.”

“But it was such a terrible way to start a new regime, the regime I’ve lived under all my life.”

“Ugly things always happen in war.” He turned his face away as though he didn’t want to talk about it. “These things can’t be helped.”

She could feel Monte’s anger beginning to simmer even though she didn’t look at him. She hesitated. If her father wasn’t going to express his remorse, she might only be doing damage by making him talk. Could Monte control his emotions? Was it worth it to push this further?

She had to try. She leaned forward.

“But, Father, you always say so many mistakes were made.”

“Mistakes are human. That is just the way it is.”

Monte made a sound that was very close to a growl. She shook her head, still unwilling to look his way, but ready to give up. What she’d hoped for just wasn’t going to happen.

“All right, Father,” she began, straightening and preparing to get Monte out of here before he did something ugly.

But suddenly her father was speaking again. “The burning of the castle was a terrible thing,” he was saying, though he was speaking so softly she wondered if Monte could hear him. “And the assassination of the king and queen was even worse.”

Relief bloomed in her chest. “What happened?” she prompted him. “How did it get so out of control?”

“You can go into a war with all sorts of lofty ambitions, but once the fuse is lit, the fire can be uncontrollable. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. Many of us were sick at heart for years afterwards. I still think of it with pain and deep, deep regret.”

This was more like it. She only hoped Monte could hear it and that he was taking it as a sincere recollection, not a rationalization. She laced her fingers with her father’s long, trembling ones.

“Tell me again, why did you sign on with the rebels?”

“I was very callow and I felt the DeAngelis family had grown arrogant with too much power. They were rejecting all forms of modernization. Something was needed to shake the country up. We were impatient. We thought something had to be done.”

“And now?”

“Now I think that we should have moved more slowly, attempted dialogue instead of attack.”

“So you regret how things developed?”

“I regret it deeply.”

She glanced back at Monte. His face looked like a storm cloud. Wasn’t he getting it? Didn’t he see how her father had suffered as well? Maybe not. Maybe she was tilting at windmills. She turned back to her father and asked a question for herself.

“Then why do you want me to marry Leonardo and just perpetuate this regime?”

Her father coughed again and held a handkerchief to his lips. “He’ll be better than his father. He has some good ideas. And your influence on him will work wonders.” He managed a weak smile for his beloved daughter. “Once you are married to Leonardo, it will be much more difficult for anyone to hurt you.”

She smiled down at him and blotted his forehead with the damp cloth. He wouldn’t be so sure of that if he knew that at this very moment, danger lurked around her on all sides. Better he should never know that she was carrying Monte’s child.

“I must go, Father. I’ve got to prepare for the ball.”

“Yes. Go, my darling. Have a wonderful time.”

“I’ll be back in the morning to tell you all about it,” she promised as she rose from his side.

She hurried toward the door, jerking her head at Monte to follow. She didn’t like the look on his face. It seemed his hatred for her father was too strong for him to see what a dear and wonderful man he really was. Well, so be it. She’d done her best to show him the truth. You could lead a horse to water and all that.

But they were late. She had a path laid out and a routine, and now she knew she was venturing out into the unknown. At her usual time, she never met anyone in the halls. Now—who knew?

“We have to hurry,” she said once they were outside the room. She quickly looked up and down the empty hallway. “I’ve got to meet Leonardo in just a short time.” She started off. “Quickly. We don’t want to meet anyone if we can help it.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when she heard loud footsteps coming from around the bend in the walkway. Only boots could make such a racket. It had to be the guards. It sounded like two of them.

“Quick,” she said, reaching for the closest door. “In here.”

Though she knew the castle well, she wasn’t sure what door she’d reached for. There was a library along this corridor, and a few bedrooms of lower-ranking relatives of the Granvillis. Any one of them could have yielded disaster. But for once, she was in luck. The door she’d chosen opened to reveal a very small broom closet.

Monte looked in and didn’t see room for them both. He turned back to tell her, but she wasn’t listening.

“In,” she whispered urgently, and gave him a shove, then came pushing in behind him, closing the door as quietly as she could. But was it quietly enough? Pressed close together, they each held their breath, listening as the boots came closer. And closer. And then stopped, right outside the door.

Pellea looked up at Monte, her eyes huge and anxious. He looked down at her and smiled. It was dark in the closet, but enough light came in around the door to let him make out her features. She was so beautiful and so close against him. He wanted to kiss her. But more important things had cropped up. So he reached around her and took hold of the knob from the inside.

There was a muttering conversation they couldn’t make out, and then one of the guards tried the knob. Monte clamped down on his lower lip, holding the knob with all his might.

“It’s locked,” one of the guards said. “We’ll have to find the concierge and get a key.”

The other guard swore, but they began to drift off, walking slowly this time and chattering among themselves.

Monte relaxed and let go of the knob, letting out a long sigh of relief. When he looked down, she was smiling up at him, and this time he kissed her.

He’d been thinking about this kiss for so long, and now, finally, here it was. Her lips were smooth as silk, warm and inviting, and for just a moment, she opened enough to let his tongue flicker into the heat she held deeper. Then she tried to pull away, but he took her head in his hands and kissed her longer, deeper, and he felt her begin to melt in his arms.

Her body was molded to his and he could feel her heart begin to pound again, just as it had when they’d almost been caught. The excitement lit a flame in him and he pulled her closer, kissed her harder, wanted her all to himself, body and soul.

It was as though he’d forgotten where they were, what was happening around them. But Pellea hadn’t.

“Monte,” she finally managed to gasp, pushing him as hard as she could. “We have to go while we have the chance!”

He knew she was right and he let her pull away, but reluctantly. Still, he’d found out what he needed to know. The magic still lived between them and they could turn it on effortlessly. And, he hoped, a bit later, they would.

But now she opened the door tentatively and looked out. There was no one in the hall. She slipped out and he followed and they hurried to her gate, alert for any hint of anyone else coming their way. But they were lucky. She used a remote to open the gate as they approached. In seconds, they were safely inside.

The moment the gate closed, Monte turned and tried to take her into his arms again, but she backed away, trying hard to glare at him.

“Just stop it,” she told him.

But he was shaking his head. “You can’t marry Leonardo. Not when you can kiss me like that.”

She stared at him for a moment. How could she have let this happen? He knew, he could tell that she was so in love with him, she could hardly contain it. She could protest all she wanted, he wasn’t going to believe her. If she wasn’t very careful, he would realize the precious secret that she was keeping from him, and if that happened, they would both be in terrible trouble.

Feeling overwhelmed, she groaned, her head in her hands. “Why are you torturing me like this?

He put a finger under her chin and forced her head up to meet his gaze. “Maybe a little torture will make you see the light.”

“There’s no light,” she said sadly, her eyes huge with tragedy. “There’s only darkness.”

He’d been about to try to kiss her again, but something in her tone stopped him and he hesitated. Just a few weeks before, their relationship had been light and exciting, a romp despite the dangers they faced. They had made love, but they had also laughed a lot, and teased and played and generally enjoyed each other. Something had changed since then. Was it doubt? Wariness? Or fear?

He wasn’t sure, but it bothered him and it held him off long enough for her to pivot out of his control.

“Gotta go,” she said as she started for the gate, prepared to dash off again.

He took a step after her. “You’re not planning to tell Leonardo I’m here, are you?” he said. His tone was teasing, as though he was confident she had no such plans.

She turned and looked at him, tempted to do or say something that would shake that annoying surety he had. But she resisted that temptation. Instead, she told the truth.

“I’m hoping you won’t be here any longer by the time I get back.”

He appeared surprised. “Where would I go?”

She shook her head. It was obviously no use to try, but she had to make her case quickly and clearly. “Please, Monte,” she said earnestly. “Go back the way you came in. Just do this for me. It will make my life a whole lot easier.”

“Pellea, this is not your problem. I’ll handle it.”

She half laughed at his confidence. “What do you mean, not my problem? That’s exactly what you are. My problem.”

“Relax,” he advised. “I’m just going to work on my objective.”

“Which is?”

“I told you. I’m here to kidnap you and take you back to the continent with me.”

“Oh, get off it. You can’t kidnap me. I’m guarded day and night.”

“Really? Well, where were your wonderful guards when I found my way into your chambers?”

She didn’t have an answer for that one so she changed the subject. “What’s the point? Why would you kidnap me?”

He shrugged. “To show them I can.”

She threw up her hands. “Oh, brother.”

“I want to show the Granvillis that I’ve been here and taken something precious to them.”

Her eyes widened. “You think I’m precious?”

His smile was almost too personal. “I know you are. You’re their most beautiful, desirable woman.”

That gave her pause. Was she supposed to feel flattered by that? Well, she sort of did, but she wouldn’t admit it.

“Gee, thanks. You make me feel like a prize horse.” She shook her head. “So to you, this is just part of some war game?”

The laughter left his gaze. “Oh, no. This is no game. This is deadly serious.”

There was something chilling in the way he said that. She shivered and tried to pretend she hadn’t.

“So you grab me. You throw me over your shoulder and carry me back to your cave. You go ‘nah nah nah’ to the powers that be in Ambria.” She shrugged. “What does that gain you?”

He watched her steadily, making her wonder what he saw. “The purpose is not just to thumb my nose at the Granvillis. The purpose is to cast them into disarray, to make them feel vulnerable and stupid. To throw them off their game. Let them spend their time obsessing on how I could have possibly gotten into the castle, how I could have possibly taken you out without someone seeing. Let them worry. It will make them weaker.”

“You’re crazy,” she said for lack of anything else to say. And he was crazy if he thought the Granvillis would tumble into ruin because of a kidnapping or two.

“I’d like to see them tightening their defenses all around,” he went on, “and begin scurrying about, looking for the chinks in their armor. There are people here who watch what they do and report to us. This will give us a better idea of where the weak spots are.”

She nodded. She understood the theory behind all this. But it didn’t make her any happier with it.

“So when you get right down to it, it doesn’t have to be me,” she noted. “You could take back something else of importance. The tiara, for instance.”

Something moved behind his eyes, but he only smiled. “I’d rather take you.”

“Well, you’re not going to. So why not just get out of my hair and go back where you came from?”

He shook his head slowly, his blue eyes dark with shadows. “Sorry, Pellea. I’ve got things I must do here.”

She sighed. She knew exactly what he would be doing while she was gone. He would be in her secret room, checking out what was going on all over the castle. Making his plans. Ruining her life. A wave of despair flooded through her. What had she done? Why hadn’t she been more careful?

“Arrgghh!” she said, making a small wail of agony.

But right now she couldn’t think about that. She had to go meet Leonardo or he would show up here.

“You stay out of my closet room,” she told him with a warning look, knowing he wouldn’t listen to a word she said. “Okay?” She glared at him, not bothering to wait for an answer. “I’ll be back quicker than you think.”

He laughed, watching her go, enjoying the way her hips swayed in time with her gorgeous hair. And then she was gone and he headed straight for the closet.

To the casual eye, there was nothing of note to suggest a door to another room. The wall seemed solid enough. He tried to remember what she’d done to close it, but he hadn’t been paying attention at the time. There had to be something—a special knock or a latch or a pressure point. He banged and pushed and tried to slide things, but nothing gave way.

“If this needs a magic password, I’m out of luck,” he muttered to himself as he made his various attempts.

He kicked a little side panel, more in frustration than hope, and the door began to creak open. “It’s always the ones you don’t suspect,” he said, laughing.

The small room inside was unprepossessing, having space only for a computer and a small table. And there on the screen was access to views of practically every public area, all over the castle. A secret room with centralized power no one else knew about. Ingenious.

Still, someone had built it. Someone had wired it. Someone had to know electronics were constantly running in here. The use of electricity alone would tip off the suspicious. So someone in the workings of the place was on her side.

But what was “her side” exactly? That was something he still had to find out.

The sound of Pellea’s entry gong made him jerk. He lifted his head and listened. A woman’s voice seemed to be calling out, and then, a moment later, singing. She’d obviously come into the courtyard.

Moving silently, he made his way out of the secret room, closing the door firmly. He moved carefully into the dressing area, planning to use the high wardrobe as a shield as he had done earlier, in order to see who it was without being seen. As he came out of the closet and made his way to slip behind the tall piece of furniture, a pretty, pleasantly rounded young woman stepped into the room, catching sight of him just before he found his hiding place.

She gasped. Their gazes met. Her mouth opened. He reached out to stop her, but he was too late.

She screamed at the top of her lungs.

CHAPTER FOUR

MONTE MOVED LIKE LIGHTNING but it felt like slow motion to him. In no time his hand was over the intruder’s mouth and he was pulling her roughly into the room and kicking the French door closed with such a snap, he was afraid for a moment that the glass would crack.

Pulling her tightly against his chest, he snarled in her ear, “Shut the hell up and do it now.”

She pulled her breath into her lungs in hysterical gasps, and he yanked her more tightly.

“Now!” he demanded.

She closed her eyes and tried very hard. He could feel the effort she put into it, and he began to relax. They waited, counting off the seconds, to see if anyone had heard the scream and was coming to the rescue. Nothing seemed to stir. At last, he decided the time for alarm was over and he began to release her slowly, ready to reassert control if she tried to scream again.

“Okay,” he whispered close to her ear. “I’m going to let go now. If you make a sound, I’ll have to knock you flat.”

She nodded, accepting his terms. But she didn’t seem to have any intention of a repeat. As he freed her, she turned, her gaze sweeping over him in wonder.

“Wait,” she said, eyes like saucers. “I’ve seen you before. You were here a couple of months ago.”

By now, he’d recognized her as well. She was Pellea’s favorite maid. He hadn’t interacted with her when he’d been here before, but he’d seen her when she’d dropped by to deal with some things Pellea needed done. Pellea had trusted her to keep his presence a secret then. He only hoped that trust was warranted—and could hold for now.

But signs were good. He liked the sparkle in her eyes. He gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m back.”

“So I see.” She cocked her head to the side, looking him over, then narrowing her gaze. “And is my mistress happy that you’re here?”

He shrugged. “Hard to tell. But she didn’t throw anything at me.”

Her smile was open-hearted. “That’s a good sign.”

He drew in a deep breath, feeling better about the situation. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Pellea calls me Kimmee.”

“Then I shall do the same.” He didn’t offer his own name and wondered if she knew who he was. He doubted it. Pellea wouldn’t be that reckless, would she?

“I’ve been here for a couple of hours now,” he told her. “Pellea has seen me. We’ve been chatting, going over old times.”

Kimmee grinned. “Delightful.”

He smiled back, but added a warning look. “I’m sure you don’t talk about your mistress’s assignations to others.”

“Of course not,” she said brightly. “I only wish she had a few.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, giving him a sly look. “You’re the only one I know of.”

He laughed. She had said the one thing that would warm his heart and she probably knew it, but it made him happy anyway.

“You’re not trying to tell me your mistress has no suitors, are you?” he teased skeptically.

“Oh, no, of course not. But she generally scorns them all.”

He looked at her levelly. “Even Leonardo?” he asked.

She hesitated, obviously reluctant to give her candid opinion on that score. He let her off the hook with a shrug.

“Never mind. I know she’s promised to him at this point.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I just don’t accept it.”

She nodded. “Good,” she whispered softly, then shook her head as though wishing she hadn’t spoken. Turning away, she reached for the ball gown hanging in front of the wardrobe. “I just came by to check that the gown was properly hung and wrinkle-free,” she said, smoothing the skirt a bit. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I can’t wait to see her dancing in this,” Kimmee added.

“Neither can I,” he murmured, and at the same time, an idea came to him. He frowned, wondering if he should trust thoughts spurred on by his overwhelming desire for all things Pellea. It was a crazy idea, but the more he mulled it over, the more he realized it could serve more than one purpose and fit into much of what he hoped to accomplish. So why not give it a try?

He studied the pretty maid for a moment, trying to evaluate just how much he dared depend on her. Her eyes sparkled in a way that made him wonder how a fun-loving girl like this would keep such a secret. He knew he had better be prepared to deal with the fallout, should there be any. After all, he didn’t have much choice. Either he would tie her up and gag her and throw her into a closet, or he would appeal to her better nature.

“Tell me, Kimmee, do you love your mistress?”

“Oh, yes.” Kimmee smiled. “She’s my best friend. We’ve been mates since we were five years old.”

He nodded, frowning thoughtfully. “Then you’ll keep a secret,” he said. “A secret that could get me killed if you reveal it.”

Her eyes widened and she went very still. “Of course.”

His own gaze was hard and assessing as he pinned her with it. “You swear on your honor?”

She shook her head, looking completely earnest. “I swear on my honor. I swear on my life. I swear on my…”

He held a hand up. “I get the idea, Kimmee. You really mean it. So I’m going to trust you.”

She waited, wide-eyed.

He looked into her face, his own deadly serious.

“I want to go to the ball.”

“Oh, sir!” She threw her hands up to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness! Where? How?”

“That’s where you come in. Find me a costume and a nice, secure mask.” He cocked an eyebrow and smiled at her. “Can you do that?”

“Impossible,” she cried. “Simply impossible.” But a smile was beginning to tease the corners of her mouth. “Well, maybe.” She thought a moment longer, then smiled impishly. “It would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

He grinned at her.

“Will you want a sword?” she asked, her enthusiasm growing by leaps and bounds.

He grimaced. “I think not. It might be too tempting to use it on Leonardo.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, nodding wisely.

He got a real kick out of her. She was so ready to join in on his plans and at the same time, she seemed to be thoroughly loyal to the mistress she considered her best friend. It was a helpful combination to work with.

He lifted his head, looking at the ball gown and thinking of how it would look with his favorite woman filling it out in all the right places. “All I want to do is go to the ball and dance with Pellea.”

“How romantic,” Kimmee said, sighing. Then her gaze sharpened as she realized what he might be describing. “You mean…?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Secretly. I want to surprise Pellea.”

Kimmee gave a bubbling laugh, obviously delighted with the concept. “I think Leonardo will be even more surprised.”

He shook his head and gave her a warning look. “That is something I’ll have to guard against.”

She sighed. “I understand. But it would be fun to see his face.”

He frowned, wondering if he was letting her get a little too much into this.

“See what you can do,” he said. “But don’t forget. If Leonardo finds out…” He drew his finger across his throat like a knife and made a cutting sound. “I’ll be dead and Pellea will be in big trouble.”

She shook her head, eyes wide and sincere. “You can count on me, sir. And as for the costume…” She put her hand over her heart. “I’ll do my best.”

Pellea returned a half hour later, bristling with determination.

“I’ve brought you something to eat,” she said, handing him a neatly wrapped, grilled chicken leg and a small loaf of artisan bread. He was sitting at a small table near her fountain, looking for all the world like a Parisian playboy at a sidewalk café. “And I’ve brought you news.”

“News, huh? Let me guess.” He put his hand to his forehead as though taking transmissions from space. “Leonardo has decided to join the national ballet and forget all about this crazy marriage stuff. Am I right?”

She glared at him. “I’m warning you, don’t take the man lightly.”

“Oh, I don’t. Believe me.” He began to unwrap the chicken leg. He hadn’t eaten for hours and he was more than ready to partake of what she’d brought him. “So what is the news?”

“Leonardo talked to his father and we’ve decided to move the wedding up.” Her chin rose defiantly. “We’re getting married in two days.”

He put down the chicken leg, hunger forgotten, and stared at her with eyes that had turned icy silver. “What’s the rush?” he asked with deceptive calm.

The look in his gaze made her nervous. He seemed utterly peaceful, and yet there was a sense in the air that a keg of dynamite was about to blow.

She turned away, pacing, thinking about how nice and simple life had been before she’d found him lurking in her garden that day. Her path had been relatively clear at the time. True, she had been fighting her father over his wish that she marry Leonardo. But that was relatively easy to deal with compared to what she had now.

The irony was that her father would get his wish, and she’d done it to herself. She would marry Leonardo. She would be the first lady of the land and just about impervious to attack. Just as her father so obsessively craved, she would be as safe as she could possibly be.

But even that wasn’t perfect safety. There were a thousand chinks in her armor and the path ahead was perilous. Everything she did, every decision she made, could have unforeseen repercussions. She had set a course and now the winds would take her to her destination. Was it the best destination for her or was it a mirage? Was she right or was she wrong? If only she knew.

Looking out into the courtyard, Pellea shivered with a premonition of what might be to come.

Monte watched her from under lowered brows, munching on a bite of chicken. Much as she was trying to hide it, he could see that she was in a special sort of agony and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why. What was her hurry to marry Leonardo? What made her so anxious to cement those ties?

Motivations were often difficult to untangle and understand. What were hers? Did it really mean everything to her to have her father satisfied that she was safe, and to do it before it was too late? Evidence did suggest that he was fading fast. Was that what moved her? He couldn’t think what else it could be. But was that really enough to make her rush to Leonardo’s arms? Or was there something going on that he didn’t know about?

“I suppose the powers that be are in favor of this wedding?” he mentioned casually.

She nodded. “Believe me, everything around here is planned to the nth degree. Public-relations values hold sway over everything.”

“I’ve noticed. That’s what makes me wonder. What’s the deal with this wedding coming on so suddenly? I would think the regime would try to milk all the publicity they could possibly get out of a long engagement.”

“Interesting theory,” she said softly, pretending to be busy folding clothes away.

“Why?” he asked bluntly. “Why so soon?”

“You’d have to ask Leonardo about that,” she said evasively.

“Maybe I will. If I get the chance.” He looked at her sharply, trying to read her mind. “I can’t help but think he has a plan in mind. There has to be a reason.”

“Sometimes people just want to do things quickly,” she said, getting annoyed with his persistence.

“Um-hmm.” He didn’t buy that for a minute. The more he let the idea of such a marriage—the ultimate marriage of convenience—linger in his mind, the more he hated it. Pellea couldn’t be with Leonardo. Everything in him rebelled at the thought.

Pellea belonged to him.

That was nonsense, of course. How could she be his when he wouldn’t do what needed to be done to take that responsibility in hand himself? After all, he’d refused to step up and do the things a man did when making a woman his own. As his old tutor might say, he craved the honey but refused to tend to the bees.

Still in some deep, gut-level part of him, she was his and had been since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. He’d put his stamp on her, his brand, his seal. He’d held her and loved her, body and soul, and he wanted her available for more of the same. She was his, damn it!

But what was he prepared to do about it?

That was the question.

He watched her, taking in the grace and loveliness of her form and movement, the full, luscious temptation of her exciting body, the beauty of her perfect face, and the question burned inside him. What was he prepared to do? It was working into a drumbeat in his head and in his heart. What? Just exactly what?

“You don’t love him.”

The words came out loud and clear and yet he was surprised when he said them. He hadn’t planned to say anything of the sort. Still, once it was out, he was glad he’d said it. The truth was out now, like a flag, a banner, a warning that couldn’t be ignored any longer. And why not? Truth was supposed to set you free.

And she didn’t love Leonardo. It was obvious in the way she talked to him and talked about him. She was using him and he was using her. They had practically said as much in front of him—though neither had known it at the time. Why not leave it out there in the open where it could be dealt with?

“You don’t love him,” he said again, even more firmly this time.

She whirled to face him, her arms folded, her eyes flashing. “How do you know?” she challenged, her chin high.

A slow smile began to curl his lips. As long as they were speaking truth, why not add a bit more?

“I know, Pellea. I know very well. Because…” He paused, not really for dramatic effect, although that was what he ended up with. He paused because for just a second, he wondered if he really dared say this.

“Because you love me,” he said at last.

The shock of his words seemed to crackle in the air.

She gasped. “Oh! Of all the…” Her cheeks turned bright red and she choked and had to cough for a moment. “I never told you that!”

He sat back and surveyed her levelly. “You didn’t have to tell me with words. Your body told me all I would ever need to know.” His gaze skimmed over her creamy skin. “Every time I touch you your body resonates like a fine instrument. You were born to play to my tune.”

She stood staring at him, shaking her head as though she couldn’t believe anyone would have the gall to say such things. “Of all the egos in the world…”

“Mine’s the best?” he prompted, then shrugged with a lopsided grin. “Of course.”

She held her breath and counted to ten, not really sure if she was trying to hold back anger or a smile. He did appear ridiculously adorable sitting there looking pleased with himself. She let her breath back out and tried for logic and reason. It would obviously be best to leave flights of fancy and leaps of faith behind.

“I don’t love you,” she lied with all her heart. Tears suddenly threatened, but she wouldn’t allow them. Not now. “I can’t love you. Don’t you see that? Don’t ever say that to me again.”

Something in her voice reached in and made a grab for his heartstrings. Had he actually hurt her with his careless words? That was the last thing he would ever want to do.

“Pellea.” He rose and reached for her.

She tried to turn away but he wouldn’t let her. His arms came around her, holding her close against his chest, and he stroked her hair.

“Pellea, darling…”

She lifted her face, her lips trembling. He looked down and melted. No woman had ever been softer in his arms. Instantly, his mouth was on hers, touching, testing, probing, lighting her pulse on fire. She kissed him in return for as long as she dared, then pulled back, though she was still in the circle of his embrace. She tried to frown.

“You taste like chicken,” she said, blinking up at him.

He smiled, and a warm sense of his affection for her was plain to see. “You taste like heaven,” he countered.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, please, Monte. Let me go.”

He did so reluctantly, and she drew back slowly, looking toward him with large, sad eyes and thinking, If only…

He watched her, feeling strangely helpless, though he wasn’t really sure why. With a sigh, she turned and went back to pacing.

“We have to get you out of here,” she fretted while he sat down again and leaned back in his chair. “If I can get you out of the castle, do you have a way to get back to the continent?”

He waved away the very concept. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said confidently. “And when I do go, I’ll take care of myself. I’ve got resources. No need to worry about me.”

She stopped, shaking her head as she looked at him. How could she not worry about him? That was pretty much all she was thinking about right now. She needed him to leave before he found out about the baby. And even more important, she wanted him to go because she wanted him to stay alive. But there was no point in bringing that up. He would only laugh at the danger. Still, she had to try to get him to see reason.

“There is more news,” she told him, leaning against the opposite chair. “Rumors are flying.”

He paused, the chicken leg halfway to his mouth. He put it down again and gazed at her. “What kind of rumors?”

She turned and sank into the chair she’d been leaning on. “There’s talk of a force preparing for an Ambrian invasion.”

He raised one sleek eyebrow and looked amused. “By whom?”

“Ex-Ambrians, naturally. Trying to take the country back.”

His sharp, all-knowing gaze seemed to see right into her soul as he leaned closer across the table. “And you believe that?”

“Are you kidding?” She threw her hands up. “I can see it with my own eyes. What else are you doing here?”

He gave her another view of his slow, sexy smile. “I came to kidnap you, not to start a revolution. I thought I’d made that perfectly clear.”

She leaned forward, searching his eyes. “So it’s true. You are planning to take over this country.”

He shrugged, all careless confidence. “Someday, sure.” His smile was especially knowing and provocative. “Not this weekend though. I’ve got other plans.”

He had other plans. Well, wasn’t that just dandy? He had plans and she had issues of life and death to contend with. She wanted to strangle him. Or at least make him wince a little. She rose, towering over him and pointing toward her gateway.

“You’ve got to go. Now!”

He looked surprised at her vehemence, and then as though his feelings were hurt, he said, “I’m eating.”

“You can take the food with you.”

He frowned. “But I’m almost done.” He took another bite. “This is actually pretty good chicken.”

She stared at him, at her wit’s end, then sank slowly back into the chair, her head in her hands. What could she do? She couldn’t scream for help. That could get him killed. She couldn’t pick him up and carry him to the doorway. That would get her killed. Or at least badly injured. She was stuck here in her chambers, stuck with the man she loved, the father of her child, the man whose kisses sent her into orbit every time, and everything depended on getting rid of him somehow. What on earth was she going to do?

“I hate you,” she said, though it was more of a moan than a sentence.

“Good,” he responded. “I like a woman with passion.”

She rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t he ever be serious? It was maddening. “My hatred would be more effective if I had a dagger instead,” she commented dryly.

He waved a finger at her. “No threats. There’s nothing quite so deadly to a good relationship. Don’t go down that road.”

She pouted, feeling grumpy and as though she wasn’t being taken seriously. “Who said we had a good relationship?”

He looked surprised. “Don’t we?” Reaching out, he took her hand. “It’s certainly the best I’ve ever had,” he said softly, his eyes glowing with the sort of affection that made her breath catch in her throat.

She curled her fingers around his. She couldn’t help it. She did love him so.

She wasn’t sure why. He had done little so far other than make her life more difficult. He hadn’t promised her anything but kisses and lovemaking. Was that enough to give your heart for?

Hardly. Pellea was a student of history and she knew very well that people living on love tended to starve pretty quickly. What began with excitement and promises usually ended in bleak prospects and recriminations.

The gong sounded, making her jump. She pulled away her hand and looked at him. He shrugged as though he regretted the interruption.

“I’ll take my food into the library,” he offered. “Just don’t forget and bring your guest in there.”

“I won’t,” she said back softly, watching him go and then hurrying to the entryway.

It was Magda, her hairdresser, making plans for their session. The older woman was dressed like a gypsy with scarves and belts everywhere. She was a bit of a character, but she had a definite talent with hair.

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” she warned. “You be ready. I’m going to need extra time to weave your hair around the tiara. It’s not what I usually do, you know.”

“Yes, I know, Magda,” Pellea said, smiling. “And I appreciate that you are willing to give it a try. I’m sure we’ll work something out together.”

Magda grumbled a bit, but she seemed to be looking forward to the challenge. “Half an hour,” she warned again as she started off toward the supply room to prepare for the session.

Pellea had just begun to close the gate when Kimmee came breezing around the corner.

“Hi,” she called, rushing forward. “Don’t close me out.”

Pellea gave her a welcoming smile but didn’t encourage her to come into the courtyard. “I’m in a bit of a hurry tonight,” she warned her. “I’ve got the hairdresser coming and…”

“I just need to give your gown a last-minute check for wrinkles,” Kimmee said cheerfully, ignoring Pellea’s obvious hint and coming right on in.

“Where is he?” she whispered, eyes sparkling, as she squeezed past.

“Who?” Pellea responded, startled.

Kimmee grinned. “I saw him when I was here earlier. You were out, but he was here.” She winked. “I said hello.” She looked around, merrily furtive. “We spoke.”

“Oh.”

Pellea swallowed hard with regret. This was not good. This was exactly what she’d hoped to avoid. Kimmee had kept the secret before, but would she again?

“He is so gorgeous,” Kimmee whispered happily. “I’m so glad for you. You needed someone gorgeous in your life.”

Pellea shook her head, worried and not sure how to deal with this. “But, Kimmee, it’s not like that. You know I’m going to marry Leonardo and…”

“All the more reason you need a gorgeous man. No one said it had to be a forever man.” Her smile was impish. “Just take some happiness where you can. You deserve it.”

She looked at her maid in despair. It was all very well for her to be giving shallow comfort for activities that were clearly not in good taste. But here she was, hoisted on her own petard, as it were—taking advice that could ruin her life. But what was she going to do—beg a servant not to gossip? Might as well ask a bird not to fly.

Of course, Kimmee was more than a mere servant. In many ways, she had always been her best friend. That might make a difference. It had in the past. But not being sure was nerve-wracking. After all, this was pretty much a life-or-death situation.

She closed her eyes and said a little prayer. “Kimmee,” she began nervously.

“Don’t worry, Pel,” Kimmee said softly. She reached out and touched her mistress’s arm, her eyes warm with an abiding affection. She’d used the name she’d called Pellea when they were young playmates. “I’m just happy that…” She shrugged, but they both knew what she was talking about. “I’d never, ever tell anyone else. It’s just you and me.”

Tears filled Pellea’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Kimmee kissed Pellea’s cheek, as though on impulse and nodded. Then suddenly, as she noticed Monte coming into the doorway to the library, she was the dutiful servant once again. “Oh, miss, let me take a look at that gown.”

Monte leaned against the doorjamb, his shirt open, his hair mussed, looking for all the world like an incredibly handsome buccaneer.

“Hey, Kimmee,” he said.

“Hello, sir.” She waved, then had second thoughts and curtsied. As she rose from her deep bow, Pellea was behind her and Kimmee risked an A-OK wink to show him plans were afoot and all was going swimmingly. “I hope things are going well with you,” she added politely.

“Absolutely,” he told her. “I’ve just had a nice little meal and I’m feeling pretty chipper.”

She laughed and turned back to her work, completed it quickly, and turned to go.

“Well, miss, I just wanted to check on the gown and remind you I’ll be here to help you get into it in about an hour. Will that suit?”

“That will suit. Magda should be through by then.” She smiled at the young woman. “Thank you, Kimmee,” she said, giving her a hug as she passed. “I hope you know how much I appreciate you.”

“Of course, miss. My only wish is for your happiness. You should know that by now.”

“I do. You’re a treasure.”

The maid waved at them both. “I’ll be back in a bit. See you.”

“Goodbye, Kimmee,” Monte said, retreating into the library again.

But Pellea watched her go, deep in thought. In a few hours, she would be at the ball, dancing with Leonardo and preparing to have their engagement announced. People would applaud. Some might even cheer. A couple of serving girls would toss confetti in the air. A new phase of her life would open. She ought to be excited. Instead, she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Get over it,” she told herself roughly. She had to do what she had to do. There was no choice in the matter. But instead of a bride going to join her fiancé, she felt like a traitor going to her doom.

Was she doing the right thing? How could she know for sure?

She pressed both hands to her belly and thought of the child inside. The “right thing” was whatever was best for her baby. That, at least, was clear. Now if she could just be sure what that was, maybe she could stop feeling like a tightrope walker halfway across the rope.

And in the meantime, there was someone who seemed to take great delight in jiggling that rope she was so anxiously trying to get across.

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