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CROWN PRINCE,

PREGNANT BRIDE!

RAYE MORGAN

VALENTINE BRIDE

CHRISTINE RIMMER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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.