Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! / Valentine Bride: Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride! / Valentine Bride

“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.

CHAPTER FIVE

TURNING, PELLEA MARCHED into the library and confronted Monte.

He looked up and nodded as she approached. “She’s a good one,” he commented on Kimmee. “I’m glad you’ve got such a strong supporter nearby.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d seen her, actually chatted with her?” Pellea said, in no mood to be mollified. “Don’t you see how dangerous that is? What if she talks?”

He eyed her quizzically. “You know her better than I do. What do you think? Will she?”

Pellea shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I don’t think so, but…”

She threw up her hands. It occurred to her how awful it was to live like this, always suspicious, always on edge. She wanted to trust her best friend. Actually, she did trust her. But knowing the penalty one paid for being wrong in this society kept her on her toes.

“Who knows?” she said, staring at him, wondering how this all would end.

It was tempting, in her darkest moments, to blame it all on him. He came, he saw, he sent her into a frenzy of excitement and—she had to face it—love, blinding her to what was really going on, making her crazy, allowing things to happen that should never have happened.

But he was just the temptor. She was the temptee. From the very first, she should have stopped him in his tracks, and she’d done nothing of the sort. In fact, she’d immediately gone into a deep swoon and hadn’t come out of it until he was gone. She had no one to blame but herself.

Still, she wished it was clearer just what he’d been doing here two months ago, and why he’d picked her to cast a spell over.

“Why did you come here to my chambers that first time?” she asked him, getting serious. “That day you found me by the fountain. What were you doing here? What was your purpose? And why did you let me distract you from it?”

He looked at her coolly. He’d finished the chicken and eaten a good portion of the little loaf of bread. He was feeling full and happy. But her questions were a bit irksome.

“I came to get the lay of the land,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And to see my ancestral castle. To see my natural home.” He looked a bit pained.

“The place I was created to rule,” he added, giving it emphasis that only confirmed her fears.

“See, I knew it,” she said, feeling dismal. “You were prepared to do something, weren’t you?”

“Not then. Not yet.” He met her gaze candidly. “But soon.”

She shook her head, hands on her hips. “You want to send Leonardo and his entire family packing, don’t you?” That was putting a pleasant face on something that might be very ugly, but she couldn’t really face just how bad it could be.

He shrugged. “There’s no denying it. It’s been my obsession since I was a child.” He gave her a riveting look. “Of course I’m going to take my country back. What else do I exist for?”

She felt faint. His obsession was her nightmare. She had to find a way to stop it.

“That is exactly where you go wrong,” she told him, beginning to pace again. “Don’t you see? You don’t have to be royal. You don’t have to restore your monarchy. Millions of people live perfectly happy lives without that.”

He blinked at her as though he didn’t quite get what she was talking about. “Yes, but do they make a difference? Do their lives have meaning in the larger scheme of things?”

She threw out her arms. “Of course they do. They fall in love and marry and have children and have careers and make friends and do things together and they’re happy. They don’t need to be king of anything.” She appealed to him in all earnestness, wishing there was some way to convince him, knowing there was very little hope. “Why can’t you be like that?”

He rose from the desk and she backed away quickly, as though afraid he would try to take her in his arms again.

But he showed no intention of doing that. Instead, he began a slow survey of the books in her bookcases that lined the walls.

“You don’t really understand me, Pellea,” he said at last as he moved slowly through her collection. “I could live very happily without ever being king.”

She sighed. “I wish I could believe that,” she said softly.

He glanced back over his shoulder at her as she stood by the doorway, then turned to face her.

“I don’t need to be king, Pellea. But there is something I do need.” He went perfectly still and held her gaze with his own, his eyes burning.

“Revenge. I can never be fulfilled until I have my revenge.”

She drew her breath in. Her heart beat hard, as though she was about to make a run for her life.

“That’s just wicked,” she said softly.

He held her gaze for a moment longer, then shrugged and turned away, shoving his hands down deep into his pockets and staring out into her miniature tropical forest.

“Then I’m wicked. I can’t help it. Vengeance must be mine. I must make amends for what happened to my family.”

She trembled. It was hopeless. His words felt like a dark and painful destiny to her. Like a forecast of doom.

There was no doubt in her mind that this would all end badly.

It was very true, what Monte had said. His character needed some kind of answer for what had happened to his family, some kind of retribution. Pellea knew that and on a certain level, she could hardly blame him. But didn’t he see, and wasn’t there any way she could make him see, that his satisfaction would only bring new misery for others? In order for him to feel relief, someone would have to pay very dearly.

“It’s just selfish,” she noted angrily.

He shrugged and looked at her coolly. “So I’m selfish. What else is new?”

She put her hand to her forehead and heaved a deep sigh. “There are those who live for themselves and their own gratification, and there are those who devote their lives to helping the downtrodden and the weak and oppressed. To make life better for the most miserable among us.”

“You’re absolutely right. You pay your money and you take your chances. I’d love to help the downtrodden and the poor and the oppressed in Ambria. Those are my people and I want to take care of them.” He searched her eyes again. “But in order for me to do that, a few heads will have to roll.”

The chimes on her elegant wall clock sounded and Pellea gasped.

“Oh, no! Look at the time. They’re going to be here any minute. I wanted to get you out of here by now.” She looked around as though she didn’t know where to hide him.

He stretched and yawned, comfortable as a cat, and then he rose and half sat on the corner of the desk. “It’s all right. I’ll just take a little nap while you’re having your hair done.”

“No, you will not!”

“As I remember it, your sleeping arrangements are quite comfortable. I think I’ll spend a little quality time with your bedroom.” He grinned, enjoying the outrage his words conjured up in her.

“I want you gone,” she was saying fretfully, grabbing his arm for emphasis. “How do you get in here, anyway? Tell me how you do it. However you get in, that’s the way you’re going out. Tell me!”

He covered her hand with his own and caressed it. “I’ll do better than that,” he said, looking down at her with blunt affection. “I’ll show you. But it will have to wait until we leave together.”

She looked at his hand on hers. It felt hot and lovely. “I’m not going with you,” she said in a voice that was almost a whimper.

“Yes, you are.” He said it in a comforting tone.

Her eyes widened as she glanced up at him. He was doing it again—mesmerizing her. It was some sort of tantalizing magic and she had to resist it. “No, I’m not!” she insisted, but she couldn’t gather the strength to pull her hand away.

He lifted her chin and kissed her softly on the lips. “You are,” he told her kindly. “You belong with me and you know it.”

She felt helpless. Every time he touched her, she wanted to purr. She sighed in a sort of temporary surrender. “What are you going to do while I’m at the ball?” she asked.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find something to while away the time with.” He raised an eyebrow. “Perfect opportunity, don’t you think? To come and go at will.”

She frowned. “There are guards everywhere. Surely you’ve seen that by now.”

“Yes. But I do have your security setup to monitor things. That will help a lot.”

“Oh.” She groaned. She should never have let him see that.

She shook her head. “I should call the guards right now and take care of this once and for all.”

“But you won’t.”

Suddenly, a surge of adrenaline gave her the spunk she needed to pull away from his touch, and once she was on her own, she felt emboldened again.

“Dare me!” she said, glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

He stared back at her for a long moment, then a slow grin spread over his handsome face. “I may be careless at times, my darling, but I’m not foolhardy. Even I know better than to challenge you like that.”

The entry gong sounded. She sighed, all the fight ebbing out of her. “Just stay out of sight,” she warned him. “I’ll check in on you one last time before I go to the ball.” She gave him a look of chagrin. “Unless, of course, you’ve left by then.” She shrugged. “But I guess I won’t hold my breath over that one.”

He nodded. “Wise woman,” he murmured as he watched her go. Then he slipped into her bedroom and closed the door before she’d let the hairdresser into the compound.

It was a beautiful room. The bedding was thick and luxurious, the headboard beautifully carved. Large oils of ancient landscapes, painted by masters of centuries past, covered the walls. He wondered what they had done with all the old portraits of his ancestors. Burned them, probably. Just another reason he needed his revenge.

But that was a matter to come. Right now he needed sleep.

He sat on the edge of her bed and looked at her bedside table, wondering what she was reading these days. What he saw gave him a bit of a jolt.

Beginning Pregnancy 101.

Interesting. It would seem Pellea was already thinking about having children. With Leonardo? That gave him a shudder. Surely she wasn’t hoping to have a baby in order to reassure her father. That would be a step too far. And if she just had a yen for children, why choose Leonardo to have them with?

Making a face, he pushed the subject away. It was too depressing to give it any more attention.

He lay down on her sumptuous bed and groaned softly as he thought of the times he’d spent here. Two months ago everything had seemed so clean and simple. A hungry man. A soft and willing woman. Great lovemaking. Good food. Luxurious surroundings. What could be better? He’d come back thinking it would all be easy to recreate. But he’d been dead wrong.

The wall clock struck the quarter hour again and tweaked a memory. There had been a huge, ancient grandfather clock in his mother’s room when he was a child. There was a carved wooden tiger draped around the face of the timepiece and it had fascinated him. But even as he thought of that, he remembered that his mother had kept copies of her jewelry in a secret compartment in that clock.

What a strange and interesting castle this was. There were secret compartments and passageways and hiding places of all kinds just about everywhere. A few hundred years of the need to hide things had spurred his ancestors into developing ingenious and creative places to hide their most precious objects from the prying eyes and itching fingers of the servants and even of the courtiers. Life in the castle was a constant battle, it seemed, and it probably wasn’t much different now.

Looking around Pellea’s room, he wondered how many secret places had been found, and how many were still waiting, unused and unopened, after all these years. He knew of one, for sure, and that was the passageway that had brought him here twice now. He was pretty sure no one else had used it in twenty-five years. What else would he find if he tapped on a few walls and pressed on a few pieces of wood trim? It might be interesting to find out.

Later. Right now he needed a bit of sleep. Closing his eyes, he dreamed of Pellea and their nights together. He slept.

Pellea stood looking down at Monte, her heart so full of love, she had to choke back the tears that threatened. Tears would ruin her makeup and that was the last thing she would have been able to handle right now. She was on the edge of an emotional storm as it was.

Everyone had gone. She’d even sent the two men who were supposed to guard the tiara out into the hall to wait for her. And now she was ready to go and make the announcement that would set in stone her future life and that of her baby. But she needed just one more moment to look at the man she loved, the man she wished she were planning to marry.

If only they had met in another time, another place. If only circumstances were different. They could have been so happy together, the two of them. If there was no royalty for him to fight for, if her father was still as hale and hearty as he’d been most of her life, if her place weren’t so precarious that she needed it bolstered by marrying Leonardo…

There were just too many things that would have to be different in order for things to work out the way they should, and for them to have a happy life. Unfortunately that didn’t seem to be in the cards for her.

As for him—oh, he would get over it. He would never know that the baby she would have in a few months was really his. He was the only man she’d ever loved, but she had been very careful not to tell him that. She was pretty sure he’d had romances of one kind or another for years. It wouldn’t be that hard for him. There would always be beautiful and talented women ready to throw themselves at him in a heartbeat.

Of course, if he did do as he threatened and try to take his country back by force, the entire question would be moot and they might all have to pay the ultimate price. Who knew?

In the meantime, she wanted just a moment more to watch him and dream….

When he woke an hour or so later, she was standing at the side of the bed. His first impression was benignness, but by the time he’d cleared his eyes, her expression had changed and she was glaring down at him.

“I don’t know why you’re still here,” she said a bit mournfully. “Please don’t get yourself killed while I’m at the ball.”

He stretched and looked up at her sleepily. She was dressed to the hilt and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His mother’s tiara had been worked into a gorgeous coiffure that made her look as regal as any queen. Her creamy breasts swelled just above the neckline of her gown in old-fashioned allure. The bodice was tight, making her waist look tiny, as though he could reach out and pick her up with his two hands and pull her down.