Abby and the Playboy Prince

“You will have to marry some time,” Abby said. “And have children. As you say, that’s part of your job as a royal. And…”

Mychale made a sound low in his throat, but she went on. “I want you to know that you had a very nice touch with the baby yesterday. I think you’ll be a great dad.”

He stared at her. He wanted to kiss her.

The feeling came over him like a warm tropical breeze. Her mouth looked hot and delicious, with its rosy lips and the way her upper teeth caught hold of her lower lip when she was thinking. For just a moment he imagined his mouth taking hers, hard, as he pulled her lush body up tight against his.

His body reacted with a strong, sensual aching he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Dear Reader

ABBY AND THE PLAYBOY PRINCE is about finding love in unexpected places, but it’s also about something else, though it may not seem like it on the surface—adoption.

The adoption of a child is a heroic act. It’s easy to love the children we give birth to. It’s natural. But to take in a little stranger and make that child a part of a family— people who are willing to do that are taking a step outside the norm, taking a chance, giving something of themselves, and they ought to be celebrated. They usually get ample rewards for their heroism—giving love means getting it back in spades. And they are also saving the world in their own small way—one adopted child at a time.

Abby has taken her sister’s baby to her heart with no hesitation. With Prince Mychale it is going to take a little longer, and begins as a package deal for getting Abby in his life. Will he learn to love baby Brianna as though she were his own baby?

Well—read the book and see!

Raye Morgan

ABBY AND THE PLAYBOY PRINCE

BY

RAYE MORGAN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To E.M. for your limitless support.

You brighten the lives of all around you!

CHAPTER ONE

PRINCE MYCHALE of the royal house of Montenevada came fully awake, staring into the darkness. He’d been dreaming again. His body was tight as a fist. Even in sleep, he couldn’t relax.

Groaning, he rolled out of bed and headed to the attached bathroom as thunder rumbled nearby. He reached automatically for the light switch, then swore softly when it didn’t work and he remembered the electricity probably hadn’t been on in this vacation chalet for months. As though in answer to his wishes, a flash of lightning lit the room and he saw himself in the mirror for two seconds.

He looked like hell. But what did he expect? He hadn’t slept for days. He’d walked right off the yacht in Cannes where some film star whose name he couldn’t remember had thrown him a party, jumped into his Lamborghini, peeled out of the marina parking lot and kept on going. He’d driven into the dawn, and then through the next day, crossing borders, ignoring speed limits, until he was home.

Home, the center of his support—the focus of his discontent. His home was in the tiny country of Carnethia, where he was third in line for the throne. Instead of heading for the palace, he’d turned his car toward this remote mountain retreat, which was empty now, but had been his family’s refuge during the recent war. He needed time to clear his mind and decide what he was going to do. Time alone.

He turned on the water and was grateful to get a gush out of the faucet. At least that was still on. He would have to ignite the pilot on the water heater as soon as it was light. Then he could wash away Stephanie’s smell. Her perfume lingered like a bad dream. Stripping off his shirt, he dropped it to the floor, then reached to cup his hands under the water and wash his face.

“Ouch.”

He drew back quickly. The water was hot.

“What the hell?”

That wasn’t right. No one would have closed up the house and left the pilot on. Strange.

But he was too tired to deal with that now. He adjusted the water, washed his face and slouched back to throw himself on the bed. Despite the thunderstorm approaching, he was instantly asleep.

Abby Donair crept silently to the door of the prince’s bedroom and listened intently. She couldn’t hear a thing. Was he still in there? She had to know. But more than that, she had to have the ring of keys he’d picked up in the butler’s entry and taken into the bedroom with him. Without those keys, she couldn’t get to the supplies, and there was something in the locked pantry that she needed badly.

What bad luck to have the prince show up like this. She’d known this château since she was a child and knew from experience how to get inside, even though the place had been empty since the restoration of the monarchy earlier that year. So when she was looking for somewhere to hide, the royal chalet had seemed a natural. She’d thought it would give her a sanctuary and a respite, a place to catch her breath and prepare for what she had to do next. And now this.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think of any other way she could get into the pantry. She didn’t want to open the bedroom door. She knew chances were good she wouldn’t get away with what she was planning. But short of taking an ax to the pantry door, there really wasn’t a viable alternative.

Thunder rolled, reminding her there was no escape. Not tonight. Probably not in the morning, either. Oh, why did he have to show up on this very night? After all her careful plotting, all the preparations she’d made. No one from the royal family had been here in months. She’d been so sure it would make the perfect safe haven for her. And then, out of the blue, Prince Mychale had shown up. Why now?

But moaning did no good. She had to act. Tucking back her long, straight blond hair, she held her breath and turned the knob on the solid oak door, peeking in.

There he was. She could make out his form lying crosswise on the wide bed. Lightning lit the room for a moment and she saw him better. Her heart began to pound. He looked half- naked. And maybe more. The way he was twisted in the sheets, she couldn’t really tell.

But that didn’t matter. Hopefully he wouldn’t wake up. If he did, all bets were off and she was in big trouble. In his eyes, she would just be some tramp who’d broken into his house. The man had been trained as a warrior, even though from what she’d heard, the war had ended before he’d had a chance to do much fighting. Who knew what he would do to her?

Another flash of lightning revealed the object of her quest. There on the nightstand she could see the master ring of château keys, right next to his wallet. Taking in a deep breath and gathering her light nightdress around her, she started toward them.

A floorboard creaked as her bare foot touched it. She winced and bit her lip, but she kept on moving. If she just kept going and grabbed the keys, she could be out of here in less than…

He moved, groaning softly. She went very still, holding her breath. Morning was coming and despite the storm, the room was growing lighter. Now that she was near, she could see him pretty well. She’d seen him often enough in the past and she’d always thought he was the best looking of the three royal brothers. But looking at him now, she thought he was more beautiful than ever, his skin sleek, his body hard and shaped to tempt caresses. She’d never been this close to him before. Were her fingers trembling? Oh Lord! For just a second, she was afraid she was losing her nerve.

But no. Failure was not an option. Gritting her teeth, she leaned over him, stretching for the keys. Just an inch more, just a second more…

Her fingertips had barely touched the metal when it all went wrong. He moved. She flinched. And suddenly he’d grabbed her and she was flat on her back, pinned to the mattress.

“Oh!” she cried, the breath knocked out of her for a moment.

“Looking for something?” he asked coldly, his face inches from hers.

She gasped. When she’d considered the dangers involved in what she was doing, she had never pictured the outcome quite this way. He was holding her down by her wrists and his long, hard body was on top of hers. She’d never been under a man’s body before. How could it be so scary and so thrilling at the same time?

“Let me go!” she cried, struggling for only a moment. The more she tried to move beneath him, the worse things got.

“Can’t do that,” he said calmly. He was almost smiling now, as though the first shock of finding her leaning over his bed had passed and he was more amused than alarmed. “If I let you go, I’ll have to wake up from this dream, and I rather like it so far.”

She glared up at him. It was humiliating to realize he thought so little of her chances of doing anything to hurt him that he could take this so casually. And even joke about it! That made her furious. All her fears faded as she took in the indignity of it all.

“What is the matter with you?” she demanded. “Or do you always welcome strange women into your bed like this?”

“I don’t know.” His face came nearer and the next thing she knew he’d moved in closer and was nuzzling against the side of her neck, breathing in her scent as though he enjoyed it. “You don’t actually seem all that strange to me,” he murmured huskily.

She drew in a sharp breath and alarm shivered through her. What was he doing? She’d heard stories about this prince, lurid tales of sexual escapades and romantic adventures whispered by women who seemed to know what they were talking about. Maybe he was used to making love to any woman who happened to tumble into his bed. Maybe he thought this sort of thing was normal.

Well, despite the fact that his face against her skin was deliciously seductive, she wasn’t used to it and she didn’t think it was normal. In fact, she wouldn’t put up with it at all.

“Get away from me!” she cried, trying to twist to the side.

He drew back, looking down at her, but still holding her prisoner with his body.

“You know, I was just lying here, sleeping peacefully,” he noted, “and you were the one who invaded my space.”

He was right and she had to admit it. She was still glaring at him, but her heart wasn’t pounding in her throat any longer. Maybe she could think things over a bit more rationally now. Maybe it was time to try another angle.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to sound sincere and only partially succeeding. “I…I didn’t mean to. I was just… Well, I wasn’t trying to wake you. I thought I could just get in and out without bothering you.”

He was studying her face as though this whole thing was puzzling him. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but notice how appealing he looked with his dark hair falling over his forehead. There was nothing between them but her light cotton nightgown and a thin, silky sheet and she was beginning to feel more of him than was safe.

“I…I’ll just go now,” she added hopefully.

His brilliant eyes were heavy-lidded as he gazed down at her. “You promise?”

She blinked up at him. “Promise what?”

“That you’ll go? Maybe go burglarize some other house and let me sleep?”

“Uh…”

He meant it. She realized his voice sounded groggy. He really was tired and he really did just want her to leave him alone. At least, that was the way his words came across to her. That was a relief. The trouble was, she couldn’t do what he was asking. Not really.

Reading her mind by the look on her face, he groaned, closing his eyes for a second. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

“I…well, it’s raining.” She was only pointing out the obvious.

“I see.” He looked exhausted. “So you’re not planning to go anywhere when you come right down to it.”

She couldn’t lie to the man—not about this anyway. “Well, no, not until the storm passes. You can’t expect me to…”

He was laughing. Softly laughing, but laughing nonetheless. She frowned up at him, offended.

“What’s so funny?”

“You.” He rolled off her and lay back against the pillows. “You haven’t been at this burglarizing business long, have you? Maybe you ought to rethink this as a career path. You don’t seem to have much of a knack for it.”

Pulling herself up to a sitting position and pulling her nightdress decorously around her knees, she glared down at him. “I wasn’t trying to burglarize you.”

He frowned as though all this was just too much to deal with right now. His gaze flickered over her, lingering on where her breasts were easily visible beneath the flimsy fabric.

“Well, if this was an attempted seduction, you need a few pointers in that realm as well.” He yawned. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass for now. I can barely keep my eyes open and…” Suddenly he frowned, staring at her in the morning gloom. “Wait a minute. Do I know you?”

“I…” She thought fast. It was probably safer to let him know they did have a connection of sorts. He was going to find out eventually anyway. “My name is Abby Donair. You’ve probably seen me before. Maybe here in lake country in the old days. Or more recently, at the palace. I’ve been living with my uncle, Dr. Zaire.”

His brow cleared with recognition. “Ah yes, the good doctor. The man who knows all our deepest secrets.”

“I don’t know about that.” She looked at him sharply, wondering what he meant and pretty sure it wasn’t good. Quickly she tried to make things clear. “I mean, he’s never told me anything about you.”

“Good.” He squinted at her. “Yes, I remember you now. You were just at my sister’s birthday luncheon last month, weren’t you? I think I remember noticing you. You played a piece on the piano.”

She nodded reluctantly, remembering with embarrassment that she hadn’t exactly stunned the world with her musical talent that day. “Yes, that was me bumbling my way through ‘Moonlight Sonata’. I was horrible.”

He grinned. “I guess I wasn’t listening very well. I remember thinking you were cute as a button.”

She gaped at him in astonishment, surprised that he would even have noticed her at all.

But he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He sighed heavily. “God, I’m just so tired. I’m treading water here. I’ve got to sleep. Can we continue this later?”

“Oh. You mean…?”

“I mean, I should be ushering you off the premises and generally acting like the property owner I’m supposed to be, but I can’t seem to summon the energy. So I’m going to trust you not to slit my throat or rob me blind. Okay?”

“Okay.” She gave him an exasperated look. “I don’t really foresee getting the urge to do either, if you want to know the truth.”

“Great. I’ll just sleep on top of my wallet so as to remove all temptation.” He reached out to take the wallet off the nightstand and put it under his pillow. Then he yawned again. “Okay. Then I’ll see you in a few hours. Good night.”

He closed his eyes, sank down into the pillows and seemed to drift off with no further ado. She stared at him. He really was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen this close. The rounded muscles of his shoulders and upper arms made her bite her lip, and as she followed the hard planes of his chest down to where his flat stomach muscles tightened around his navel, then disappeared beneath the sheet, for a second or two, she forgot how to breathe. Greek statues had nothing on this man.

Very carefully, she regained her composure and then slipped off the bed and padded to the door. She looked back for a moment, then stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

“Well, that wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” she murmured to herself hopefully. With a mischievous smile, she pulled the ring of keys out of the deep pocket of her nightdress. She’d done what she’d come to do anyway and now she had access once again to the pantry where she’d stored the baby formula.

“Just another couple of minutes, Bree-baby,” she murmured softly, though she knew the little infant couldn’t hear her at this distance. “I’ll have your bottle for you. Just hold on.” With a sigh of relief, she hurried toward the kitchen.

The rain turned to light drizzle a little before noon. Abby was pacing nervously through the casual breakfast area, wondering just how much longer the prince would sleep. She’d prepared a three-course breakfast with cinnamon rolls, fruit salad, a spiced frittata, sausages and rich, dark coffee. Luckily, the kitchen was well stocked with canned things, but she’d had to use a couple of the precious fresh eggs that she’d bought at the train station to round out the meal, and if he didn’t come down soon, it would hardly be worth it. The table was set. Everything was ready. It was all part of her plan to win him over to her point of view.

She had the perfect scenario in mind. He would come down, fully rested, and she would have this nice breakfast prepared and laid out and he would smile and turn to her in surprise, then thank her.

And she would smile back as he sat down to eat and ask nicely, “Do you mind if I stay here for a couple of days? I just need a place where I can be away from everyone else and think about my life for a while.”

And, full of good food and rested cheer, he would see that she meant him and his family no harm, that she was really good-hearted and he would say, “Sure, be my guest.”

After all, he was probably headed to a party or a country weekend or a romantic tryst or whatever. He’d obviously just stopped here to sleep and would be on his way once he was rested. Would he let her stay here if she asked? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t run for the border in this weather, not carrying a baby. The fact that he knew her uncle well ought to help. After all, Dr. Zaire had been permanently attached to the royal family for generations. She didn’t see any reason why things shouldn’t go just the way she was planning.

In her mind she could see him finish his meal, sigh happily, then get up to leave, waving goodbye as he went, perhaps calling back, “Take good care of the old place for me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she would respond as he got back into that fancy car she’d watched arrive with such anxiety the night before and drove off into the mist toward—whatever place he was on his way to.

Simple. Logical. Why not?

There were only a few things that could make it all go wrong. The first was the fact that the food she had prepared so carefully would get so cold it would turn to cement if he didn’t come down to eat soon. And the second was… what if the baby cried?

Baby Brianna. She threw a glance at the stairway. There was no sign that the prince was awake. Quickly she made her way to the back of the house, to the tiny maid’s room where she had the baby in a makeshift crib, fashioned from a dresser drawer and some baby blankets.

A wave of emotion hit her as she looked down at the sleeping child her sister had given birth to less than two months before. Protecting Bree was all she cared about now. She was such a pretty baby with her downy peach fuzz hair and her rounded pink cheeks.

“I’m going to be your mommy from now on, sweetheart,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she thought of her sister’s tragic death. “I just hope I can do a decent job of it. I promised Julienne, and I’m going to try as hard as I can to keep that promise.”

The promise was the last thing she’d said to her sister as she lay dying. She hadn’t realized how soon she would have to put her promise to the test. As soon as she’d understood what her uncle was planning, she knew she had to get her sister’s child out of his control. Luckily, he’d been so consumed with his plotting that he hadn’t noticed the time she took to come here to the chalet and prepare to bring Brianna here.

This was to be the first step on their journey. The plan was clear. She would get on a bus, just like they’d taken to get here in the first place. As they neared the border, she would get off and head for the countryside. They might be intercepted, and just in case, she’d printed up some fake id cards on the computer. They ought to pass if no one looked too closely.

But she wasn’t really worried about that part of the trip. She’d done it many times before with her family when she was young. During the recent war, it had sometimes been the only way to get from her grandparents’ estate in Dharma back into Carnethia. She knew the route and how to avoid the checkpoints. It would be harder carrying the baby, but she could do it. She would be in Dharma in just a couple of hours, and from there it was just a short train ride to Northern Italy.

And then—what? Yes, that was the question.

Brianna’s tiny baby lips puckered for a moment, but then she sighed, still asleep. Abby smiled through her tears. She couldn’t keep thinking about the suffering in her life. For Brianna’s sake, hope was going to be the watchword from now on. Hope for a beautiful future. Hope would make her strong.

That, and just a little luck ought to do it.

Mychale closed his eyes and enjoyed the water as it beat down on his long, lean naked body. The water pressure was great here, all that energy from the mountain rivers. A shower such as this was like a good massage. If only he could beat the kinks out of his mind the same way.

He’d had a fantasy the night before of washing away Stephanie’s scent, as though that would somehow help clear up the Stephanie problem. But in the bright light of day, he knew that wasn’t going to work. Stephanie was here to stay and he was stuck with her. The wedding was scheduled for the fall.

He groaned. The whole thing was insane. How had he let his brother Dane talk him into this? But he knew exactly how. All that guilt- inducing rhetoric about duty and honor and what he owed his country and the royal house of Montenevada. He’d let Dane wear him down and now he was betrothed to a woman he could barely stand to be in the same room with. Something had to give, and he was here to figure out what that something was.

He felt better after a shower, clean and fresh and almost fully rested. He was going to find a way out of his quagmire. No problem. He would think of something. For just a moment, a wave of nausea came over him and he leaned against the wall, wondering what the hell was going on. But it evaporated quickly, leaving him with a slight sense of unease, but not much more. He would probably feel better after he ate something. And that was contingent on there being any food in the house.

He pulled on slacks and a clean shirt out of the closet. As he was buttoning his cuffs, he remembered about Abby Donair and groaned again. Another problem woman to deal with. But maybe their encounter had scared her off. Most likely, once she realized she wasn’t going to have the run of the place on her own, she’d headed out to greener pastures. The sound of rain against the windowpanes put a damper on that idea, but he kept his optimism alive.

He went down the stairs with a spring in his step. He’d always loved this big old house with its massive fireplaces and the dark wood and glass everywhere. In its day, it had seemed state-of-the-art for the sort of mansion that hung off the side of the mountain, but now it could certainly use a bit of updating. The plumbing was ancient and the colors were gloomy. He should make some plans and come up here to oversee the renovations. He could put in top-of-the- line modern appliances, granite counters in the kitchen, travertine tile in the bathrooms, maybe a sauna or two, an environmental rain room. Maybe he should move in for good, give up his playboy lifestyle and start living the life of a country gentleman. Why not?